Chapter 584 - 568: Treat Everyone Fairly, and Loyalty Will Naturally Follow
Chapter 584: Chapter 568: Treat Everyone Fairly, and Loyalty Will Naturally Follow
A month was enough for a seed to break through the earth, and enough for a world to be completely reborn.
The Divine Kingdom of Ten Thousand Machines, Year One of Truth, early February.
For the 620 million souls on this continent, the past thirty days had brought more drastic changes than the previous century combined.
In Mage City—formerly of the Alden Kingdom, now designated as Zone One—former Viscount Andrew Fano hunched over, meticulously wiping down a public bench on the side of the street. His once-luxurious silk robes had long been confiscated, replaced by a simple gray worker’s uniform.
Not far away, a Peacekeeper Golem stood silently at the intersection, the blue indicator light on its chest blinking steadily. In this new era, it served as a traffic light, a sheriff, and, most importantly... an all-knowing city hall.
A woman holding a child approached the Golem. "Lord Divine Envoy," she asked timidly, "my... my roof is leaking. Who should I go to for this?"
The Golem turned to her, its voice devoid of any impatience. "Citizen A-101374, your issue has been recorded. A maintenance task has been posted to the ’Public Works’ task list. It is estimated that a citizen holding a Mason skill certification will accept the task within three hours. Please keep your personal terminal accessible."
The woman thanked it profusely and left.
Andrew curled his lip, cursing inwardly. "A bunch of ignorant peasants. Do they really think the Lord Divine Envoy is their personal butler? In the past, such lowly scum wouldn’t even be fit to approach my servants."
Despite his thoughts, he didn’t dare slack off in wiping the bench.
A month ago, kneeling in the square, he had thought he was a dead man. However, the final judgment only confiscated all his assets and sentenced him to three hundred standard hours of "community service."
At first, he found it to be the ultimate humiliation. But when he first used the hard-earned 3 Contribution Points on his personal terminal to exchange for fresh, wheat-scented bread at the Temple of Truth’s supply exchange, the former aristocrat—who had lived in the lap of luxury for thirty years—wept.
It wasn’t that he hadn’t eaten fine white bread before. He just never imagined that food earned through his own two hands would feel so fulfilling as it settled in his stomach. What made him feel even more absurdly at ease was that dealing with these metal lumps was far easier than scheming against his former colleagues. You didn’t have to guess their moods, overthink verbal traps, or worry that they would take your money without getting the job done.
They were simply there, representing absolute fairness, absolute order, and absolute efficiency.
"Citizen B-00821."
A cold, mechanical voice echoed above Andrew. He jolted and looked up to see a Golem stopped right in front of him.
"Your current ’Street Cleaning’ task is complete. Time elapsed: fifty-seven minutes. Cleanliness rating: ’Excellent.’ System judgment: An additional reward of 0.5 Contribution Points. Your current total Contribution Points: 52.5."
Andrew froze, staring blankly at the numbers jumping on his wrist terminal before his mouth broke into an uncontrollable grin.
***
If the former nobility in the cities were experiencing a reshaping of their values, the changes in the vast countryside were much simpler, more direct, and far more inspiring.
At the former site of Alden, Falling Leaves Town.
The thin morning mist had not yet dispersed, but the White Stone Square in the center of town was already packed with people. Without the crack of whips or the scolding of Red Robe Priests, thousands of commoners queued up quietly, their eyes fixed eagerly on a Peacekeeper in the middle of the square.
At the very front of the line, the blacksmith, Old Hans, rubbed his calloused hands together and held the gray-black metal wristband on his arm up to the Golem. These wristbands had been distributed en masse at the Temple of Truth half a month ago. Now, everyone over the age of twelve had one. It was said that they allowed direct communication with the Divine Envoys.
BEEP.
"Identity confirmed. Hans, today’s assigned task: Auxiliary Forging at Blast Furnace Number Three. Estimated pay: 15 Contribution Points. Do you accept?"
Hans was illiterate, but the wristband not only had a minimalist interface, it also broadcasted clear audio in both the common tongue and regional dialects.
"I accept! I accept!" Hans nodded repeatedly, grinning so broadly that the wrinkles on his face bunched together.
The Golem flashed its blue light. "Task recorded. Please proceed to Cafeteria One to collect your breakfast."
Hans brought his hands together in prayer and bowed deeply to the Golem before hurrying toward the long shed on the other side of the square. It was steaming with heat, and the rich aroma of meat broth drifted through the cold air.
"Full attendance again today, Uncle Hans?" The woman distributing food smiled as she handed him a large bowl of broth and two soft pieces of bread.
"May the True God bless us." Hans took a large bite of the bread, the wheat scent making his eyes tear up slightly.
A month ago, he couldn’t even get enough coarse black bread filled with bran to eat, and every month he was forced to go to the church to have his blood drawn. Now, as long as he worked, he was guaranteed three full meals a day, and he could even save up enough Contribution Points to exchange for two sets of new clothes for his little grandson.
At the back of the line, the former town mayor and second son of the Baron, Roy, stood wrapped in tattered linen clothes, his expression gloomy. Clenching his fists, he stood among the sweat-reeking commoners, feeling like he was sitting on pins and needles. When it was his turn, Roy stepped forward, glanced around guiltily, and quietly pulled a stashed Gold Coin from his sleeve, slipping it toward the Golem.
The habitual thinking of the old era convinced him that there had to be some official controlling this hunk of iron from behind the scenes.
"Lord Divine Envoy, could you assign me a lighter job? Like... warehouse registration?" Roy lowered his voice and squeezed out a fawning smile.
The Golem’s electronic eyes instantly turned red.
"Bribery detected. Violation of Article Seven, Chapter Three of the Divine Kingdom Administrative Regulations."
The mechanical voice was amplified through its speakers, echoing across the entire square.
"Warning: Roy, ID number 412. Fifty Contribution Points deducted. Today’s task: Clearing rubble in Mine Pit Two. Non-compliance will result in forced execution."
Roy’s face turned deathly pale. With a CLINK, the Gold Coin dropped onto the stone slabs.
The surrounding commoners burst into a roar of laughter.
"Master Roy, that kind of stuff doesn’t fly anymore!"
"The Lord Divine Envoys don’t eat Gold Coins!"
Roy gritted his teeth, picked up the coin, and slinked away toward the mines.
Without exploitation or condescension, everyone was on a completely level playing field. This kind of brutal fairness ignited an unprecedented enthusiasm for production among the lower classes, increasing the entire society’s operational efficiency by more than five times. Even down-and-out nobles like Roy had to hold their noses and admit—after their initial resentment subsided—that dealing with these lumps of metal meant they never had to worry about being stabbed in the back.
***
Inside Cybertron Fortress, at the Central Control Room.
A massive holographic sandbox floated in mid-air. Blue points of light scattered like stars, covering the old territories of the Three Great Kingdoms. Allen sat in a high-backed chair, his slender fingers tapping gently on the armrest. His deep blue eyes reflected a continuously cascading waterfall of data.
"Sir, current computing power usage has reached 78%." Jarvis’s voice rang out in his mind. "Golem Squads have now covered town-level administrative units, with a total of twelve thousand groups deployed. The corruption rate among grassroots local officials has dropped to 0.03% over the past week."
"How were they dealt with?" Allen picked up his black tea and took a sip.
"At the former site of Falan, three newly selected local officials attempted to cook the books during grain distribution and withhold rations from the laborers. They were publicly executed by cannon fire by the local Golem Squad."
"Good. Once rules are established, they cannot be broken." Allen set down his teacup. "We won’t just kill them; we will broadcast the outcome across the entire network via the terminals. I want everyone to know that under the gaze of God, there are no secrets."
"Directive issued."
Allen’s gaze swept over the sandbox. The continent’s administration, judiciary, and education had now been completely taken over by Jarvis.
For the time being, they were allocated five Golems per town, forming the foundational layer of law enforcement and force. Aside from critical positions, general civil disputes and basic registration work were handled by selected local officials. The locals did the work while the Golems supervised. Under Jarvis’s immense computing power, any corruption or dereliction of duty would have nowhere to hide. Absolute force paired with absolute impartiality formed a flawless, closed loop of governance.
"How much longer can we hold out?" Allen asked.
"Under medieval productivity levels, the current computing power is sufficient to last for three years. However, as industrialization advances and data redundancy increases, a computing bottleneck is expected to emerge."
"Three years is enough to monetize our resources and upgrade Jarvis’s computing power. No, Jarvis’s computing power is too precious. I should build an administrative supreme AI to coordinate the construction of this entire Plane," Allen calculated rapidly in his mind.
"What is the progress on the first phase of mineral development?"
"All 327 high-value mines have commenced operations." The light screen switched, dividing into hundreds of small grids. Each grid displayed a bustling construction site.
Massive Mining Golems wielded alloy drills to tear through the rock layers. Countless commoners wearing terminals pushed minecarts, shouting work chants as they transported ore out or performed various auxiliary tasks.
The screen zoomed in on a large Magic Stone Mine situated within the southern mountain range. Amid the roaring hum of machinery, a Mining Golem cut open the hard rock wall, revealing a Magic Stone Ore Vein flashing with red light deep inside.
Below, over a thousand mortal laborers cheered with joy.
"Ore is out! A major vein!"
"Hurry, hurry! Clear out the rubble, don’t block the Lord Divine Envoy’s path!"
During their lunch break, the miners gathered in groups of twos and threes, chewing hearty mouthfuls of dried meat. An old veteran used his terminal to scan a strange, scattered piece of ore.
His wristband chimed. "Special Contribution: Discovery of associated red copper. Reward: 200 Contribution Points."
The veteran immediately began trembling with excitement. "Old pals, we’ve struck it rich!" he cried, tears washing trails through the soot on his face. "200 points... 200 points! It’s enough for me to exchange for a brick house with an en-suite bathroom in the new district! I can even afford to send my boy to the literacy night school run by the Divine Kingdom!"
He wiped his face and looked up at the towering Mining Golem. "This is living... This is how people are meant to live!"
There were no overseers with whips, no endless backbreaking labor, only the constantly updating Contribution Points on their terminals. A single person’s daily labor was enough to feed and clothe their entire family, and they could even save up points to exchange for a new home. The dignity of "reaping what one sows" was something these natives, who had been enslaved for centuries, never even dared to dream of.
Looking at the fervent faces on the screen, a faint smile graced Allen’s lips.
Destroy the old order with religion and force, win over hearts with food, and establish a new order through absolute fairness. Although this management system was still rudimentary and private commercial activities had yet to be opened up, this Cyber Utopia had already successfully rallied the hearts of the people.
Destructive exploitation was only gratifying in the short term. Turning six hundred million people into cogs who were more than willing to work for you—that was the true secret to endless wealth.
"Commander, the first batch of 100,000 standard units of refined, high-value minerals will soon be shipped to Hub City via the Star Gate," Jarvis reported.
"Excellent. The capital chain will be revived shortly as well."