Empire of Shadows

In front of a vacant lot in the Port District, a middle-aged man with a "protagonist" look walked out from the group of refugees.

He possessed an appearance that quite matched the Federation's aesthetic standards for a positive male image: dark hair, a high and straight nose that wasn't quite like an eagle's beak, thick eyebrows, cheeks that looked as if they'd been hewn with an axe, and a chin that could mesmerize people.

Adding to that his slightly bluish beard and blue pupils, even if he went to Creek Valley City to audition for a leading role, there would be a production crew willing to take him in.

He wore tattered but very clean clothes, and as he walked out from the crowd, the reporters quickly noticed him.

Councilor Williams wasn't coming, canceling the afternoon's activities, which left the reporters who were ready to watch a good show somewhat disappointed.

But if they could obtain some other news material through interviewing this person, perhaps they could more or less make up for some of their disappointment.

However, they didn't really think this guy could provide any explosive news; just a group of refugees.

The guy walked up to the reporters, and when he was still some distance away, he suddenly raised his hands high and shouted, "We are dying, please save us!"

The reporters, who had been somewhat absent-minded, immediately perked up, and they immediately jogged towards that person.

Seeing these reporters swarming over, a smile appeared on the middle-aged man's face.

"What's your name, sir?"

"Hope, Hope Wright."

The reporters recorded his name, and then immediately asked, "Can you tell us why you think you are dying?"

The expression on his face was filled with a plea for redemption, "People are dying, that's the truth."

"Hunger, disease, anything can easily take our lives."

"I know, we are refugees, we are not citizens of the Federation, but we are also people, and we should also have the right to live in this world!"

"From the time we arrived in the Federation until now, the local government has not made any arrangements for us, including building simple dwellings in New Port District, which was all our own initiative."

"We are like a proper noun that only exists in newspapers or magazines, and not real people living in reality."

"People's sympathy also seems to stay in the newspapers, not shining into reality."

"Every day, people in New Port District die of starvation in their own tents, or in some corner."

"Some people struggle in pain from disease and hastily end their short lives."

"Every night, the miserable cries make it difficult for me to fall asleep, and I still don't understand."

"Has God closed his eyes and cannot see our sadness, or has the sky of the Federation blocked his gaze, leaving his devout lambs stranded here!"

"We need help, humanitarian aid, or anything else, I heard that the Federation also has some animal protection associations."

"The benevolent people of the Federation can give those little animals some care and love, why can't they give us, who are also human beings, some help?"

"We don't have any other excessive demands, we just want to live…"

This Mr. Hope's words aroused the empathy of many reporters on the scene; the greatest wealth of people at the bottom is their empathy.

They can empathize with anything.

Even if they themselves are very poor, when they see the terrible lives of even poorer people, they still can't help but feel a desire to help them deep down.

It's like their sighs after seeing a wealthy person losing tens of millions in investments—this wealthy person really has it tough.

It's like their sadness when they see a politician losing an election by a narrow margin, it's like…

They can empathize with people who are worse off than themselves, and they can also empathize with those who are countless times better than themselves, but who have encountered a wealthy person or powerful person whom people consider unfortunate.

Although they are very rich, although they have a lot of power, they may not necessarily be as happy as themselves!

The poorer the people of the Federation, the easier it is to empathize.

The reporters are not privileged classes, nor are they rich people; at the same time, they rely more on the resonance and empathy of readers to gain fame and fortune for themselves.

This Mr. Hope hit their G-spot; they were satisfied.

At Mr. Hope's invitation, these reporters decided to delve into the "New Port District, which urgently needs someone to help them," to take a specific look.

Just as Mr. Hope said, the Federal government just let them come here, and then ignored them, as if they didn't exist.

What people need is not truth and reality, what they need is something bloody, something that can sting people's hearts.

Soon they came to New Port District, and that strange smell began to spread. Mr. Hope introduced the reason for the peculiar smell here, which nicely made "not being able to afford a bath" a small news highlight.

Mr. Hope took them on a very special route. Before long, they came to an open space and saw that they were burning something.

The flames from the pile of fire were as high as three or four stories. There were many people around constantly adding firewood to it.

Before they could get close, waves of heat hit them. Before the reporters had time to ask why they were having a bonfire in the summer, they saw several people carrying some corpses and throwing them into the fire.

"We can't afford a cemetery, and we can't afford the cost of cremation. In order to prevent those corpses from becoming a source of plague, we can only solve it this way."

The reporters took photos with serious expressions. Cremation was just emerging, but it had not been recognized by the people of the Federation.

Because the Bible has always advocated burial and believes that burial is the best way to return to the embrace of the Lord.

And the content about cremation is often related to "purification."

Ordinary people certainly do not need to be purified. Only those heretics need to be purified, so cremation is not popular. Many believers believe that they cannot go to heaven after cremation.

For the people of the Federation, who almost all have faith, it's already bad enough that these people are burned to ashes after death, and they will also be mixed with the ashes of other people. They can't even be independently placed in jars and buried in the ground. They will definitely go to hell!

This is already the most severe punishment: going to hell after death!

Then they continued to walk inside, and they could see many people who were so thin that they were only skin and bones. They were either sitting or lying on the roadside. A reporter asked, "Why are there so many people like this here?"

Mr. Hope calmly explained, "They are waiting for death, so that they can return to the world more quickly and conveniently."

Some of the scenes in the refugee area caused a huge shock to the reporters. They had never thought that people could live so miserably!

When they finally saw a woman squeezing blood from her nipples to feed her child, everyone was silent.

The reporters began to take money out of their pockets, hoping that the woman could buy some milk powder instead of using her own blood to raise her child.

"Mr. Hope, I don't know how to describe everything I saw here today. I believe that everyone who knows what happened here will face you with a heavy heart like me."

"You should get help. This is the bottom line of human morality. We cannot break this bottom line."

"I will report this news truthfully, ensure that it is seen by more people, and call on everyone to donate money and materials to help you overcome the difficulties…"

"You are a person with noble morals. You will change the people here and their lives. You will warm everyone like the sun!"

The reporter really had too much culture. What he said was so nice, so nice that Mr. Hope was almost in tears!

He shook hands with each reporter and said, "I'm not doing this to promote myself or what I want to do. I just can't remain silent in this kind of environment."

"No matter what changes will happen in the future, good or bad, at least I have tried for the tomorrow and future of each of us!"

"Thank you, thank you everyone for being patient enough to come here with me, to see and understand the harsh living environment of the people here,"

"God bless the Federation, and God will also bless us!"

He piously clasped his hands together. Someone captured this photo. The bright sunlight illuminated half of his cheek, and the beautiful side of the city was on his left.

The other half was shrouded in subtle shadows, merging with the misery of the world behind him, forming a lens picture with an extremely strong contrast and a full sense of shock.

Soon the reporters left here. Those people around him who were so hungry that they could hardly stand up looked at Mr. Hope. He turned around, and the sunlight came from the left half of his body to the right half.

He smiled at these miserable people, met their eager gazes, and slightly retracted his chin, "Everything will be alright!"

People inexplicably felt a force rising from the soles of their feet. They didn't know that they had become pawns in a political game.

But even if they knew, they wouldn't care.

At least the chips can be placed on the velvet gambling table for the game, and people will keep them alive in order to protect the chips.

If they don't become chips, they can only sit on the cement floor, the gravel floor, waiting for the period to draw its final stroke.

They raised their hands and chanted Mr. Hope's goodness. All of this made Mr. Hope feel a trace of joy.

This is the foundation for realizing his future, it's the chips, he will become a great person, he firmly believes in this!

With the participation of reporters and those miserable photos, the front page of the "Today Jinport" was occupied by this news early the next morning.

The reporter who wrote this report used the headline "Our Morality is Dying with Our Conscience," and used a wide-angle photo to put the pyres used to burn corpses and the people sitting beside the pyres waiting to die together.

The dark tones of the picture weighed on everyone's heart like dark clouds, accompanied by lightning and thunder, and a torrential rain pattered down.

"…People are dying, dying in the beauty we weave. Their deaths are meaningless and will not become nutrients to nourish this land, only pain in our hearts that can never be erased."

"Compared to those who need help, it is actually us who need help more. Our conscience, our virtues, our moral bottom line as human beings are wailing, begging us for help."

"We are not only saving them, but also ourselves."

"Please lend a hand, for them, for us."

Lance read out the contents of the report. After he finished reading, he put it aside, then picked up his coffee with milk and took a sip.

"Next time, if you add milk, you don't need to add sugar. It's too sweet!" he commented, then looked at the ladies and gentlemen at the dining table.

Whenever he wanted to enlighten these people, he would find that their eyes were particularly clear, so clear that he could see the bottom at a glance.

"I… uh, well, there's no morning exam today."

The people at the dining table breathed a sigh of relief. They might have found it a little interesting at first, but soon they didn't think so anymore.

If someone always asks you things you don't understand, you won't find it very interesting.

When he asked about other things, things these people knew, the atmosphere immediately became much more cheerful.

"Our wine is shipping well in the Bay Area. The current price is three hundred and seventy dollars a bottle, and there is still more room for growth."

Deresi talked about the sales of these "five-year-aged" whiskeys, and the smile on his face couldn't be stopped at all.

The cost of these wines is a little more expensive, but only slightly, about thirty to forty dollars, but it can bring more than eight times the profit!

These wines actually still have some small flaws. Their alcohol smell is too rigid, but Lance is trying to find a way to solve these problems.

If these problems can be solved, then eight-year-aged and ten-year-aged whiskeys will appear.

"In addition to this, there are more wines appearing in other districts," he added.

The Goldenport City's big gang is only the Lance family, but there are still many middle and lower-level gangs. Each district has them, except for the Imperial District and the Port District.

It is impossible for him to kill all the gangs, because he can't do it.

Even if he drove out all these current gangs, a new batch of gangs would soon rise up.

The Federation's society is like a super cradle, specializing in breeding these violent groups. As long as a vacuum appears, a new group will be born soon, and there will never be an end to it.

So instead of thinking about how to find those middle and lower-level gangs every day, it is better to set up rules for them to abide by. As long as they abide by the rules and make money for him,

Then he can also tolerate these small gangs.

Lance listened and thought for a while, "How many gangs are there here?"

Erwin gave an unexpected but reasonable number, "At least hundreds."

Some small families may have only a dozen people. Their "territory" is a section of a street, or a basement bar run by seven or eight people.

This situation is normal, and the number Erwin gave is actually very conservative.

Lance tapped his fingers on the table, "Notify these people, I want to chat with them, soon."

"Also, have Rogerov come over…"

Before ten o'clock, Rogerov appeared in front of Lance. The older man became more energetic as he lived.

There's no way around it, the best "panacea" is actually the banknotes in people's pockets.

The poor are listless, and the rich are radiant. There is a reason for this.

Everything you encounter every day can be as you wish, and it is difficult for you to live uncomfortably.

But if you have to haggle over a dollar or two every day, get angry, and even have a big fight with your family and friends, people can't live comfortably.

Scientists have also been looking for the specific interference of the spirit on the body. They have many theories, but they can't find the key.

Rogerov is like this. With money, even his old brother has regained his vitality.

"I heard that you've been getting close to a young widow recently?" Lance motioned for him to sit down, took a cigarette, and stamped the butt on the table.

Rogerov's old face was a little red, "We are just good friends."

Lance did not deny his statement, "So you had a big fight with your son, for your good friend."

Hearing Lance say this, Rogerov suddenly sighed, "I also have the right to pursue happiness."

Like most people of that era, his marriage to his wife was more like two people who needed to shoulder social responsibilities. When they reached the age when they needed to shoulder social responsibilities, they naturally came together and built a family.

For those people in the past to talk about love and affection, it is not that there is absolutely none, but only a very small number of people.

Most people are also introduced to each other, and then they don't hate each other when they get along, so they form a family.

This is also why most operas are talking about love. If the audience really had their own love, that kind of deep, or colorful, why would they pay attention to other people's love stories and produce some kind of empathy?

Because they don't have it themselves!

So they will yearn for those love stories. Of course, there are also some masochistic lovers who like the story of a poor boy falling in love with a rich girl, and then breaking them up!

Rogerov and his wife also came together in this way. When the time came, they met each other twice, didn't hate each other, and then, under the arrangement of both families, they got married.

No matter when, Rogerov has never had a single bit of love for his wife, only affection, that is family, not lover.

And recently, this little widow made him feel that kind of impulse, so that the old brother who had not been used for quite a while, also became energetic.

As for why his son quarreled with him, the reason is actually very simple.

His son was worried that Rogerov would really marry that little widow, and then part of the property that originally belonged to him would be taken away by the little widow.

He was even afraid that his old man could still give birth, and if he gave birth to a little thing, it would be gone, or even more!

He couldn't accept this.

If their family was still very poor, not well-off, he wouldn't care.

But now that they have money, some things are not so easy to see through.