Chapter 585: Year 2 of Truth
Chapter 585 -569: Year 2 of Truth
Autumn, Year Two of Truth.
The broad streets were paved with smooth gray cement. Along both sides, metal streetlights stood every fifty meters.
At six o’clock in the morning, the streetlights turned off right on time.
Old Hans, wearing dark blue denim overalls, walked briskly toward the government affairs hall in the city center. A brass badge was pinned to his chest—proof that he had exceeded his forging quotas for three consecutive months—polished so well it gleamed in the sunlight.
There were no guards at the government affairs hall; only two “Spider Slayer” Golems stood quietly on standby at either side of the entrance. Inside, the hall was spacious and brightly lit, with hundreds of commoners lining up in orderly fashion.
Hans walked up to a self-service terminal and raised his left wrist.
“Identity confirmed. Level 2 Forging Worker, Hans. Current Contribution Points: 1,420.”
“I want to apply for my grandson, Little Hans, to enroll across districts,” Hans said to the terminal. “Transfer him to the Third Mechanical Affiliated Primary School.”
The screen flickered as Jarvis’s subsystem rapidly retrieved the data.
“Application rejected,” a cold voice announced. “Target subject, Little Hans, suffers from congenital polio in his left leg; agility is below the standard value. The Third Mechanical Affiliated Primary School is a targeted military-industrial training institution. According to the Optimal Resource Allocation Act, this subject does not meet the principle of maximizing training efficiency. It is recommended to transfer him to the Seventh Agricultural Affiliated Primary School.”
Hans froze. He had saved up Contribution Points for a whole year just to get his grandson into the best mechanical school so he could become a respectable Rune Engineer in the future.
“Lord Divine Envoy, my grandson is very deft with his hands! His legs might be inconvenient, but it doesn’t affect his ability to draw blueprints!” Hans grew anxious, slapping the casing of the terminal.
“Warning! Elevated emotional state detected. Please cease damaging public property. The judgment is immutable.”
The people around him looked over, their eyes filled with sympathy, but no one dared to step forward and question the Golem’s decision.
Over the past year, the absolute fairness of the Golems had deeply rooted itself in people’s hearts. However, such unquestionable decisions occasionally hurt people.
“Wait a moment.”
A voice called out from behind. Reyno, dressed in a formal black suit, walked over. Pinned to his chest was a golden scale badge, signifying his status as the President of the Continent Supervision Council.
“Mr. President!” Hans recognized him and hurriedly bowed.
Reyno waved his hand and stepped up to the terminal, pulling up his own authorization interface.
“System, retrieve Little Hans’s intelligence test and manual dexterity assessment scores,” Reyno commanded.
“Target subject intelligence assessment: A-. Manual assembly test: A. Comprehensive potential: Excellent.”
Speaking to the terminal, Reyno said, “In my capacity as President of the Council, I am submitting a Humanitarian Amendment for Special Talents. The target subject’s physical defects do not impede his core professional development. Forcible rejection violates the Divine Kingdom’s underlying logic of ‘never giving up any valuable brain.’ Requesting manual intervention and review.”
The red light on the screen flashed for three seconds.
“Amendment submitted. Highest authority approved. Application approved. Little Hans’s student registry has been transferred to the Third Mechanical Affiliated Primary School.”
Hans’s eyes widened before he bowed deeply. “Thank you! Thank you, Mr. President! Thank you, True God!”
Reyno patted Hans’s shoulder. “Go back to work. The Divine Kingdom needs your hands.”
Watching Hans leave, bursting with joy, Reyno breathed a sigh of relief.
Over the past year, his most significant task had been leading thousands of council members across the continent to help “patch” the Supreme Will System.
Golems did not embezzle, nor did they show favoritism. However, they didn’t understand human nature and solely relied on data. The only law in the Divine Kingdom was “Truth.” As long as one’s proposal was more aligned with the “Truth,” even the “Supreme Will” would correct itself.
Ironically, this fascinating error-correction mechanism elevated the lower classes’ trust in the new order to an unprecedented peak.
Allen sat in a large high-backed chair. The floating light screen in front of him was broadcasting the scene that had just unfolded in the government affairs hall.
“Commander, the Continent Supervision Council has submitted 1,142 amendments this month, 90 percent of which involve lower-class livelihood issues,” Jarvis’s voice echoed in the room.
“All reviewed and approved,” Allen said, setting down his teacup.
“Notice: Frequent manual intervention will decrease the operational efficiency of the Supreme Will System. It is estimated that the processing speed of administrative affairs this quarter will slow down by 3.2 percent.”
“This minor loss in efficiency is a very worthwhile trade for the emotional stability and sense of belonging of six hundred million people.” Allen looked at the screen. “Jarvis, remember, humans aren’t gears. If you tighten them too much, they’ll suffer from metal fatigue and snap. They need an outlet to voice their concerns.”
The Council’s existence was a social pressure relief valve that Allen had personally installed. He needed these six hundred million natives to willingly dedicate a lifetime of wisdom and labor, rather than accumulate the sparks of rebellion under extreme oppression.
“Understood. The sociological behavior model has been updated.”
Allen closed the surveillance feed and leaned back in his chair. “Report the general financial ledger for this year.”
“Item one: Plane mineral revenue.” Jarvis brought up a dense spreadsheet. “The ores extracted from the G-771 Plane have been converted into revenue through Wesren Heavy Industry. This year, we have dumped high-purity Mithril, raw Magic Stone ore, and associated metals onto Hub City. After deducting extraction and transportation costs, the net profit is 510 million Low-Level Magic Stones.”
Allen gave a slight nod. Five hundred million was an excellent figure for a medium-sized plane that had only been in development for a year. With the excavation of deeper veins, this number would continue to rise over the next few years.
“Item two: Wesren Heavy Industry revenue.
“The educational materials division, the environmental protection division, and the Golem production lines are operating smoothly. This year, the company has brought you a net profit of 430 million Low-Level Magic Stones.
“Item three: Purgatory Soul Coin trade.
“There is some bad news. Mammon has encountered resistance in his promotional efforts across Purgatory.” Jarvis pulled up several intelligence reports. “Other Demon Lords have developed an aversion to these Soul Coins, believing them to be part of a conspiracy by Mammon to control Purgatory’s economy. Currently, Cybertron Soul Coins only circulate on the 7th Floor and a few adjacent floors. Coupled with the difficulty of managing Demons and the low efficiency of mineral extraction, the market has reached near saturation.
“This year, by selling Soul Coins to Mammon in exchange for Purgatory’s specialty ores and then reselling them to the Wizarding World, the net profit is 1.8 billion Low-Level Magic Stones. The profit margin has dropped by 22 percent compared to the last quarter. The reason is the massive influx of Purgatory minerals into the market, which has driven down prices.”
Allen frowned.
The Soul Coin business was his biggest cash cow right now. However, he had overlooked one thing: although the Demons’ brains were filled with muscle, they weren’t complete idiots when it came to their own vital interests.
Furthermore, rarity dictates value. Unloading Purgatory’s specialty products like cheap cabbages would inevitably cause the Wizarding World’s purchasing prices to collapse.
“Give me the total.”
“Currently, the total available cash flow in your personal account is 5.44 billion Low-Level Magic Stones.”
This sum was still far from enough.
“List the liabilities.”
The panel switched.
“Liability one: Vera and Colin, totaling 4.38 billion Low-Level Magic Stones. Promised to repay two ‘Keys of Starlight’ within fifty years.
“Liability two: Victor, two Ascended Golems, equivalent to a manufacturing cost of approximately 4 billion Low-Level Magic Stones.”
The panel switched again as Jarvis added, “However, Commander, the valuation of your fixed assets is very healthy. According to the Association’s internal asset evaluation model, Wesren Heavy Industry’s current market value is approximately 20 billion Low-Level Magic Stones. As for the G-771 Plane, with the completion of its infrastructure, the establishment of its primary processing system, and the exploration of its mineral veins, its overall valuation has exceeded 50 billion Low-Level Magic Stones.”
This was the very foundation of Allen’s confidence to sit at the high-stakes table.
As long as he was given time, once the industrialization of the plane beneath his feet was fully complete, it would endlessly produce the resources he needed to push for the Morning Star or even the Moonlight realms.
“The trade with Purgatory cannot stop, but the strategy must change.”
Allen quickly made a decision. “Notify Mammon that starting next month, Soul Coin production will be cut by 30 percent. Tell him the Cybertron Workshop has encountered a production capacity crisis. Since they’re rejecting it, we’ll employ hunger marketing. At the same time, halt the dumping of Purgatory ores; we will use them as raw materials for Wesren Heavy Industry’s specialty Golem products.
“They want Soul Coins? Fine. They can trade higher-tier resources for them, or we can just let them compete with each other and drive up the price.”
“Instructions issued,” Jarvis replied. “It is estimated that next month, a deflationary crisis and localized wars will erupt on the 7th Floor of Purgatory.”
“Then that’s none of our business.” Allen stood up, gazing down at the sand table where the lights of thousands of homes were gradually illuminating. “It’s still better than exploiting those mortals.”