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墨書 Inktalez
The Ideal Camp Leader has become a phrase they can say with increasing ease. However, if ideals continue to run rampant, they cannot be blamed for it!
"Hey, don’t rush. Take a closer look," said the Ideal, sitting calmly in his seat. He pointed to the table, urging them to examine it carefully.
The outer wall of Lanstad was constructed with funds from the senators, and once completed, compensation for land would be distributed according to their contributions. One of the small factory managers read the stipulations aloud, his eyes growing brighter with each line.
"Compensation based on investment!"
This meant they had essentially pre-ordered the usage and ownership of the land within the outer city walls! Upon seeing this clause, their minds began to race with resource planning. For them, the discomfort wasn’t in spending the vouchers but in not spending them wisely! After all, generating more vouchers was their path to wealth!
"I’ve decided to allocate half of the land within the outer city walls as compensation based on qualifications, divided according to each of your contributions," said the Ideal, stirring excitement among his listeners.
Who said being a Camp Leader was a bad thing? He was doing an excellent job! As long as they secured land, there would be countless opportunities for them!
As for the other portion, it would be designated as a Refugee Zone, a Bonfire Group management area, and a food distribution zone. All refugees in the camp would be relocated there, and each would receive a Blue Voucher as compensation, which would count towards construction contributions.
Upon hearing this last part, everyone finally sensed something amiss.
"Are you saying that refugee compensation counts towards construction funding?"
Wouldn’t that mean he could just open his mouth and demand construction funding, and they’d have to obediently hand over vouchers?
"Don’t worry; construction funding will only pertain to expenses related to building Lanstad’s outer wall. You won’t have to give out extra vouchers," the Ideal said with his hands crossed and a smile.
The crowd fell into a brief silence; after all, there’s no such thing as a free lunch in this world.
Their full investment came with risks, binding them to the construction of the high walls. The sinking feeling would lead them by the nose, making it impossible to break free.
You might ask, can’t one just cut their losses decisively? But if the high walls were built, all previous investments would be returned in one go, along with a substantial profit. Would you be content with just a small piece of the pie after making such a sacrifice?
If you agree, please sign your names!
Lixiang tapped on the table, urging them to make their decision quickly. Seeing this, some people gritted their teeth and signed their names, while others hesitated for a moment before reluctantly doing the same.
At this sight, a smile curved at the corners of Lixiang's mouth. A sweet reward must follow a firm hand; otherwise, even if he could control them with an iron fist, they would still harbor resentment in their hearts. If they couldn’t obey willingly, it would be better to eliminate them!
For now, he still needed them. As long as they complied, he didn’t mind sparing their lives and letting them earn a little money.
Thank you all for your hard work; please head back and rest early.
Collecting the contracts signed on the table, Lixiang pointed towards the door and began ushering people out. What was supposed to be a meeting lasted less than a minute; Lixiang arrived in haste and left just as quickly.
The factory owners could only hold their noses and accept this arrangement while discussing future plans with their close factory managers.
Lixiang sat in his chair, gazing out the window, his thoughts drifting far away.
---
Lanstert Maximum Security Prison
It was a foreboding fortress forgotten on the edge of the city. From a distance, it resembled a giant, silent beast crouching beneath a gray sky, exuding an aura that sent chills down one’s spine.
Towering walls surrounded it, their surfaces marred by the ravages of time, with moss creeping into the corners like shadows born from darkness. Cold barbed wire coiled atop the walls glimmered ominously under the faint light, silently warning any soul daring to cross its boundaries.
The cells were tightly packed together like small animal cages. Inside one of these cramped cells was Anlius.
He looked haggard, his eyes hollow as he curled up on a rickety iron bed covered with thin, filthy bedding. His hands hugged his knees as he seemed lost in thought.
At that moment, a prison guard dressed in the standard uniform of the Bonfire Group knocked on the barred door that isolated him from the outside world, shouting impatiently.
"Someone's here to see you, so hurry up and move! Get out here!"
Anlius numbly lifted his head and looked towards the door, a wave of endless fear washing over him. As a member of the Flesh Offering Church, he had endured severe interrogations every day for the past few days, to the point where he had contemplated suicide multiple times, yet somehow he remained alive.
It seemed that this time would be another round of questioning; it appeared he could not escape his fate of suffering. Anlius rose with a sense of numbness, his steps unsteady as he approached the iron barred door.
The guard waved the black baton in his hand, signaling Anlius to step forward. He had tried to escape after being let out before, but each time he was caught and beaten severely. He knew he couldn't run away; he could only follow the guard's lead.
The corridor was dimly lit with flickering lights that cast long, distorted shadows of him and the guard on the walls, resembling phantoms from hell. As they walked, the air around him felt increasingly heavy, suffocating him with an intense sense of dread.
Maybe this time I should just give in.
Recalling the interrogation process made Anlius shiver, thoughts of surrender creeping into his mind.
No! Those lunatics will never let me go!
Just as he considered yielding, memories of how the Flesh Offering Church dealt with traitors flashed through his mind, extinguishing that fleeting thought as a more powerful fear overwhelmed him, causing him to tremble uncontrollably.
He was familiar with this path and these footsteps; Anlius knew they were heading toward the interrogation room and that he was getting close.
They arrived. Hurry up and get inside!
The guard prodded Anlius in the lower back with his black baton, urging him forward. Anlius swallowed hard and placed his hand on the doorknob, twisting it open.
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