CHAPTER 899: CHAPTER 899: THE RISING SPARK

"...Dear residents of Evernight Harbor, good morning, I am Governor Ya Hui of Evernight Harbor."

"I apologize for taking up your valuable time, but maintaining the order and peace of Evernight Harbor is our unshirkable responsibility. Therefore, please give me two minutes to explain the situation we are currently facing..."

"Approximately a few days ago, Supervisor Willoby approved the execution of the Wasp Plan, aimed at obtaining the intelligence we need from the alliance’s spies."

"Objectively speaking, this was actually a good plan, and we were almost successful. Unfortunately, at the final moment, the key executor, Comte, was turned by the alliance’s spies and orchestrated a tragic incident in our settlement that brought pain to our loved ones and joy to our enemies."

"This is a disgraceful betrayal! It is not only a betrayal of the Weilante people but also a betrayal of the Marshal! However, I cannot blame all the problems on the alliance’s evil; I must admit that the Governor’s Mansion also bears some responsibility."

"There were serious security flaws in the Wasp Plan, and Supervisor Willoby, who rashly took action disregarding the safety of Evernight Harbor residents’ lives and property, is undeniably to blame. Here I solemnly announce that the Governor’s Mansion has now removed him from the post of captain of the Guards, and he will be sent back to the Colonial Affairs Bureau in Yavente City to await disposition after his dismissal."

"Additionally, starting tomorrow, I myself will also take a month off for reflection, and the governorship will temporarily be assumed by my deputy, Supervisor Amirs..."

In addition to the dismissal of Supervisor Willoby and the decision for the governor’s suspension, the Governor’s Mansion has announced a series of measures.

Including declaring snake oil as an illegal contraband, prohibiting the private resale of supplies like the free distribution of ’Sharun’ by the logistics department.

Moreover, to capture the alliance spies hiding within Evernight Harbor, the blockade by the garrison on the northwest urban area has been expanded to Evernight Harbor.

During the blockade period, passenger lanes at Evernight Harbor docks and facilities like the post office will be temporarily closed, and leaving the settlement to head to the Great Desert will require a pass with the Governor’s Mansion’s stamp of approval.

The power to issue such certifications resides in the hands of acting Governor Supervisor Amirs.

Not just this.

Given that during the ’Broadcast Station Riot’ incident, the criminals hiding in Blackwater Alley acted opportunistically, the Governor’s Mansion has announced a purge operation in Blackwater Alley, entrusting the operation entirely to the 40th Mechanized Ten Thousand Troops.

Reciting the announcement by rote, Ya Hui did not specify what the opportunistic acts entailed, but both openly and subtly connected them to the residents who died near the broadcast station.

However, perhaps aware of the persuasive power his words lacked, though he condemned the thugs in Blackwater Alley, he dared not say how many people the thugs had actually killed, opting instead to vaguely breeze over the details.

Though he initially claimed to take only two minutes, by the time Governor Ya Hui finally finished outlining all the decisions of the Governor’s Mansion, a full half-hour had passed.

And in a sense, this perhaps also indicated that the announcement itself was part of a satire.

The guy didn’t utter a word of truth.

And he’d been lying since that "dear" at the beginning.

However, while the esteemed Governor lied plenty in the broadcast, it is true that the Southern Legion meant business this time.

At the same time the broadcast was aired, the 40th Ten Thousand Troops, which had surrounded Blackwater Alley, also received orders from the command center.

Twenty companies of a hundred men each, advancing from five different directions, penetrated this no-address slum under the cover of armored vehicles, conducting door-to-door searches.

Anyone found with weapons at home was thrown into Carter Nord Prison; those whom the prison could not hold were taken directly to the suburbs.

With the sound of gunfire, row upon row of corpses fell, truckloads of people carried inside without a single living soul coming out.

Of course, there were those who deserved to die, but the vast majority of innocent people became targets of vented anger.

Due to the documents signed by the Governor’s Mansion, judicial powers had already been handed over to, along with the command authority for the purge, the command center.

And the lads of the 40th Ten Thousand Troops executing orders were already on a killing spree, transitioning from initial hesitation to not even blinking.

If they could be so ruthless to their compatriots, let alone these aliens.

Just as the Weilante people of Evernight Harbor united against the authorities and garrison, the alien’s hatred towards the Weilante reached unprecedented levels.

And the man on the wanted posters posted all over the streets and alleys unwittingly became the idol of countless youths in Blackwater Alley.

Rumor has it that the man called Morse single-handedly took on an entire Sweeping Group.

And he even killed a Thousands of leaders!

Those Weilante people didn’t seem to be that impressive after all.

Now it wasn’t just the Poluo people who thought so; these survivors from the Great Desert also gradually began to feel this way...

...

The bar in the dock area.

Although many things had happened over the past two days, business here hadn’t been affected at all.

After all, most of the patrons drinking here were soldiers about to head to the front lines, and they, taking orders from the frontline command center, were not under the constraints of the Governor’s Mansion.

In fact, due to recent events, the pressure accumulated prompted them to drink even more than usual, boosting the entire port’s alcohol business.

Of course.

Security was another matter entirely.

In a dimly lit corner, Marta glanced at the drunken men outside exchanging punches, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"I thought you were taking this seriously."

The Weilante sitting across from him replied with a faint smile.

"We truly are serious, only we’re more lenient with our compatriots. If you don’t believe it, you can take a look in Blackwater Alley, I believe you’ll have a deeper understanding."

His name was Sverre, serving as the section chief of the equipment management division in logistics, and Tony, the "informant," was someone he personally cultivated.

Now that Peter was dead and Tony too, he had become the only person capable of reconnecting the broken thread.

Though Minister Dickens had said nothing, the vacant secretary position already spoke volumes—

Minister Dickens did not yet have a suitable candidate.

Whoever could handle things beautifully and shield the leaders from all risks was the undisputed choice for the next secretary.

This skyrocket opportunity was one he certainly would not miss.

In the realm of political maneuvering, General Giulion was certainly no match for Captain Dickens. Although the latter made a series of promises to him, those promises were nothing more than empty words.

Things that have never been done, how can one say they will never do them again?

After listening to Sverre, Marta couldn’t help but laugh.

"You? Being lenient with your compatriots? I must have misheard."

He saw everything that happened in the past few days, which only made him look down on these hypocritical fellows even more.

Weilante supremacy?

It’s nothing but a lie to coax Weilante people to their deaths.

Things that truly matter do not need to be chanted repeatedly like a mantra, and these racists care least about the lives of their own people.

In contrast, the Family Meeting that transcended racial boundaries truly cares for their compatriots. And not just their compatriots, they treat every family member warmly, like spring, calling them with affection and genuinely caring for them.

Facing Marta’s ridicule, Sverre, who sat opposite him, just smiled indifferently and retorted.

"You didn’t mishear. Compared to the River Valley people who died at the hands of survivors from the River Valley Province, and the Poluo people who died at the hands of survivors from the Poluo Province, the Weilante people who died at Weilante’s hands are just a fraction... Do I need to remind you of the things you yourselves have done?"

Marta squinted his eyes.

"There’s no need for that. We remember our own history much clearer than you. Also, don’t lump us together with the stupid things done by pigs like Laxi and Absek, we are different from them."

A subtle, playful smile appeared on Sverre’s lips.

"Is that so? Well, let’s assume that’s the case."

He wasn’t here to waste words with this Poluo person.

However, if this guy used his brain a bit, he should have figured out some things simply based on why he could sit here and chat with him.

They even arrest Alliance people first, let alone someone with just a Jin Galun Harbor identity?

Although he didn’t think his superior, Minister Dickens, was a good person, it was undeniable that winning the current war was in the unified interest of the Southern Legion internally, even if there were some differences in the paths to victory and personal interests.

If Shaluk were truly smarter than Laxi and Absek, Minister Dickens would never profit from this.

After all, if that were the case, General Giulion wouldn’t just give warnings, bombers and ground forces would have been deployed long ago.

No matter how many mountains there are in Snake State, they can’t compare to the Northern Three States connected by the Zoba Mountain Range and scattered with tropical forests; the tougher the bone, the more it must be gnawed.

In other words, Captain Dickens and General Giulion share the same opinion that Shaluk is a paper tiger.

Of course, Snake State isn’t without capable people.

For instance, Gopal, the former Grey Wolf Army advisor, subordinate of the Empire’s "War God" Arai Yang, and current Snake State War Zone Border Army commander, is one such formidable person.

But that’s another matter.

"Mr. Marta, let’s discuss business matters now."

Seeing Sverre getting serious, Marta’s expression also became serious.

"Go ahead."

Lifting his glass to sip some iced water, Sverre leisurely continued.

"The conditions Tonny and you set remain the same, but illegal goods will be much more expensive than legal ones, and you need to give us a 20% discount on the original supply price."

Marta said in a low voice.

"I can’t make that decision. I will report it to my superior. Anything else?"

Setting the glass down, Sverre leisurely continued.

"Also, with Tonny dead, we need a new partner to handle distribution. However, given the current situation in Blackwater Alley, it’s challenging to cooperate with the local Aliens, and they might not trust us."

Marta’s eyes flashed with excitement, but he concealed it cautiously.

"Are you planning to give it to us?"

Sverre gave a meaningful smile, took out a public tender document from his pocket, and tossed it in front of Marta.

Looking at Marta reaching out for the document, he concisely continued.

"We plan to renovate Blackwater Alley. The entire project requires about ten to twenty thousand laborers. Since it’s inevitable that violent organizations will emerge among them, why not let this organization be under our control? Don’t you think?"

"Leave the labor to me," Marta carefully accepted the document, looked at Sverre, and seriously continued, "By the way, what about customs? What did Kuran say? Do I need to engage with him?"

He was just being polite; he actually hoped to hear a "no," after all, he really didn’t want to deal with the Weilante people.

However, the response from the other side was unexpected.

"He’s withdrawn."

"Withdrawn?" Marta’s eyes widened in surprise, his face full of disbelief.

Sverre’s expression was somewhat complex, as if he was hesitant to mention it.

"...Yes, to be precise, he resigned and plans to leave Evernight Harbor for good, alongside his friends."

Marta’s Adam’s apple moved slightly.

"Where to?"

Sverre shrugged.

"Who knows, the port is sealed recently, not a single flight... I’m actually more curious about how he plans to leave."

"This guy knows about what’s between us, is it really okay to let him go?" Marta lowered his voice, a hint of ruthlessness flashing in his eyes, "If it’s inconvenient for you to act, I can—"

"Mr. Marta, you’re a smart man, but this isn’t West Winds. Remember not to be too clever, or you won’t even know how you die one day."

Sverre took out a cigarette and struck a match to light it.

Through the swirling smoke, he looked at those stunned eyes, placed the matchbox on the table, and gently pushed it in front of Marta, continuing with a serious tone.

"Peter messed things up, he deserved to die, but you saw, this matter isn’t over, we will still avenge him."

"He’s a Weilante person; that’s one aspect. But more importantly, we both have a day when we’ll retire... so don’t do things too thoroughly."

"He left, didn’t wrong anyone, this matter ends here."

...

Comte died in the early morning of the first weekend of August.

Due to the Legion’s blockade of the Northwestern city area, people never saw his corpse, nor his face.

Yet within three days of his death, his name appeared in every alley of Evernight Harbor.

The old soldiers stranded in Evernight Harbor and all the citizens who sympathized with him left his name on the walls in graffiti form.

He was a true hero.

Even after death, he would forever live in the hearts of Evernight Harbor residents.

The authorities of Evernight Harbor and the lackeys of the Guards repeatedly washed the walls, but these graffiti and words were repeatedly painted again, spreading continuously beyond the Northwest city to places and in forms unexpectedly spread.

For example, as carriers of soul-stirring music.

Not all Weilante people are muscle-brained; they also have their artistic cells and humanistic spirit. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have evolved from a group of Cannon Fodder into a united nation.

And it’s worth mentioning that a century and a half ago, that glorious revolution seemingly also began from the death of a Weilante person.

The dawn’s light always appears when the night reaches its darkest, it’s just now unknown whether they still need an outsider to save them this time.

The blocked Northwest urban area, adjacent to No. 3 Street near the Broadcasting Station.

Caffer looked at the indecent words on the wall, feeling a prickling discomfort.

Actually, more than feeling offended, he was confused.

He thought he was the pride of the Weilante people.

Yet more and more compatriots viewed them as a disgrace.

"These damned things, how much did they receive to do such shameful acts?" The Gunner cursed, unhooked the white spray paint from his waist, and erased the insulting slogans.

The driver glanced around, lit a cigarette, and held it in his mouth.

"You’re wasting your energy, there’s graffiti everywhere... I bet once we leave here, someone will immediately paint new ones."

The communicator whistled and joked.

"The people in command aren’t too smart, I say they should give us a spray gun in a brighter color."

The driver grinned.

"Useless, even if you paint over it in black, they can write in white."

After finishing, the Gunner placed the spray gun back at his waist, grumbling.

"Then we’ll pretend to leave and come back... I want to see which little bastard is against us."

"You’d have a lot to look at, at least half the population of the settlement doesn’t like us," the driver smiled calmly, glancing at the tightly shut windows around, "I bet at least ten pairs of eyes are watching us..."

"Be grateful it’s guns hidden behind curtains, at least it hasn’t reached that far, I don’t want to fight my own people."

Caffer didn’t speak a word, listening silently to his teammates’ arguments, while thinking about other things.

He was thinking about his tractor.

For some reason, he suddenly felt farming wasn’t so bad, at least he wouldn’t encounter so many annoying things on his farm.

He had never missed home so much.

But perhaps he wasn’t really missing home, just wanting to escape this place that’s made him doubt his belief...

...

The Northwestern area of Evernight Harbor was patrolled by soldiers carrying guns, and Caffer’s squad was just one of the unremarkable ones.

Meanwhile, at the junction of the city, the team lined up into a long queue, and Evernight Harbor’s docks were also crowded with heads.

Among them were families in groups of three or five, newlyweds, or young people alone.

Their professions, classes, and social identities vary, yet all without exception were carrying large packages, looking like they planned to leave permanently.

A similar situation seemed to have happened once eight months ago.

Only this time, unlike before, Weilante people of Evernight Harbor are leaving not to reunite with family but due to a series of measures taken by the authorities making them uneasy, having entirely lost faith in the Southern Legion.

It’s worth mentioning that, except for the soldiers and officers within the establishment who must obey orders, Weilante citizens outside the Legion’s system are allowed to move freely on the Legion’s territory, this is a right given by the Marshal long ago.

However, because the governor signed an administrative order overnight before stepping down, passenger flights at the port have been entirely canceled.

Seeing the crowd stuck at the front of the dock, the passenger bureau manager was perspiring in anxiety, shouting loudly to the crowd blocked by security.

"Go back, there’s no flight leaving here recently, you’ll hear a broadcast notice when the service resumes."

A man carrying a suitcase pointed to the passenger ship docked at the pier, angrily shouted.

"Why can those ships leave?"

The manager of the Passenger Transport Bureau shouted loudly.

"Those ships are transporting supplies! They’re heading back east soon, do you plan to go with them? Then you’d better ask the captain! Just don’t regret it later!"

Upon hearing it was a ship heading east, the man immediately shut his mouth and said no more.

The east...

That’s the Wasteland.

Even though the actions of the Evernight Harbor authorities were disgraceful, he wouldn’t go to the extent of fleeing to the Wasteland to face the Dead Claws that devour without leaving bones.

Faced with envious gazes from the shore, Yarman felt half ashamed and half relieved.

No need to elaborate on the shame, as for the relief, it was because before coming here, he had worried about the Evernight Harbor authorities requisitioning his fleet, so he specifically requested a document from the logistics department allowing him to leave the port.

Though his worry was unwarranted, as the Evernight Harbor authorities didn’t lack ships transporting supplies and had no reason to requisition his passenger ships, no one expected the series of events that would follow.

In any case, thanks to the certificate issued by the frontline logistics department, he could ignore the executive order signed by the Evernight Harbor governor and leave through the freight channel unobstructed.

However, the port’s Passenger Transport Bureau also informed him that once he left the port, he could not return until the blockade was lifted.

As for when it would end, he would need to check with post offices or passenger transport bureaus at other colonies.

Apart from Yarman and his family, there were also some passengers on board who weren’t particular about their destination.

Most of them were residents of the northwest urban area.

To the majority of residents of Evernight Harbor, Governor Ya Hui and Supervisor Willoby were at most hypocritical villains, but to them, those people weren’t just villains; they were murderers!

Many of them had relatives and friends who died that night, yet waited all day for a follow-up that never came.

Rather than facing those duplicitous folks, they would rather face the Variant and the Looter—even though Yarman assured them it wasn’t as exaggerated. The Variants in the Eastern Provinces were indeed more numerous than in the Western Provinces but not as dangerous as the Great Desert.

It’s worth mentioning that although most of the fleeing passengers weren’t wealthy, there were a few who were filthy rich.

For example, a man named Perry, a local jeweler from Evernight Harbor, reportedly with a sizable business.

Rumor had it that both his sons died that night, and this completely disheartened him and his wife towards those traitors who betrayed the Marshal.

Leaving this time, he not only brought all his belongings but also withdrew from Evernight Harbor Bank, transferring 200 million dinars and 8 million silver coins onto the ship.

Yarman had seen a lot in his life, yet this was the first time he saw so many glittering dinars piled up in front of him.

Even without counting other assets, just those gold coins weighed a thousand tons!

It’s incredible that Evernight Harbor’s bank had them!

To transport these assets, the man not only hired two security teams but also rented a separate ship from Yarman’s fleet.

Considering the Silver Moon Goddess and fellow compatriots, greed didn’t drive Yarman to profiteer, only signing a 120% transport contract according to market rate.

This was actually proposed by the other party.

Given the current circumstances, raising the price offered peace of mind, and seeing that he was already decided, Yarman gladly accepted.

However, the passenger who surprised him most wasn’t the jeweler Perry but a customs officer with a hobble.

The fleet sounded the whistle and departed the port under everyone’s watchful eyes.

Looking at the adjacent Kuran, Yarman spoke in a somewhat unexpected tone.

"...I didn’t expect you to board my ship."

"You weren’t the only one surprised; I never thought I would. I still remember when I was a Centurion." Kuran laughed self-deprecatingly, with a complex expression.

The Army is beyond saving.

Even if they conquered a thousand worlds, ten thousand worlds, the situation of the Weilante people wouldn’t change.

They would systemically produce parasites, and those parasites would control them like Iron Worms, systematically creating public enemies and siphoning their flesh.

The Marshal broke the chains imposed on them by the War Construction Committee; however, they still must confront their own shackles.

If the surviving oppressed by Weilante are not liberated, the Weilante will not gain ultimate liberation.

"...By the way, will the Alliance arrest me?"

After all, not long ago, they had just thrown a group of Alliance Blue Ground Squirrels into prison.

Yarman laughed and said.

"I don’t think they’ll be so petty; if they really did, I’d find a way to get you out..."

After a pause, he spoke with serious tone.

"Of course, if you’re worried, you could also disembark at Jin Galun Harbor or South Sea Union; those people are quite decent."

Kuran grinned and said nonchalantly.

"No need, I was joking."

As he spoke, he squinted his eyes towards the receding port and the Weilante compatriots on the dock waving them off.

"I’d like to follow you and see that place called No.1 Settlement."

Everyone believed the fuss at Evernight Harbor was over, that the Southern Legion had successfully controlled the situation, but he didn’t think so.

The war wasn’t over; it hadn’t even really begun.

He remembered not just a name.

He would come back...