Chapter 235: Schemes and Power Plays
At the same time, as the aircraft from the “upper levels” descended to the airspace above the encampment, all officers on site suspended their work and went out to receive them.
Stepping down from the transport craft were not only soldiers and members of the guard units, but also representatives—decision-makers sent by several upper-level factions.
When they saw the officers waiting on the ground, the man walking in the middle asked in a weary voice, “Where is he? Take us to see him now.”
He was, of course, referring to the killer.
“His injuries were too severe. Before the interrogation, we didn’t anticipate something like this happening, so extreme methods were used to keep him conscious enough to answer questions. Now he’s already—”
Cold. Completely dead.
“Idiot!” A young man who looked to be around twenty snapped angrily.
The officer being scolded felt indignant inside, but on the surface he lowered his head respectfully and accepted the reprimand.
“Why blame him?” someone spoke up to smooth things over. “It was standard procedure. He couldn’t have predicted the future.”
The young man turned to him with a sneer. “And you’re playing the good guy again? Everyone knows that technology was developed by your side. If we’re talking accountability, I’d say you won’t get away with it either.”
“Enough. Stop arguing,” the tired middle-aged man who had spoken first interrupted them. “Wasn’t it because we knew he wouldn’t survive that we brought Xiao Yue along? With her here, even the dead can talk. What’s the rush?”
The middle-aged man knew perfectly well that the two weren’t really quarreling. It was more habitual sparring, or posturing for show. After all, the factions they represented had never been on good terms.
He was dressed in a white-and-gold robe. On one side of the collar was embroidered a golden lotus, and on the other, a burning candle.
That was the emblem of the Light Institute.
Although the few people walking at the center all wore different styles of clothing, each of them bore a lotus somewhere as a shared symbol. Beyond that, they also carried the insignia of their own factions.
For instance, on the back of the young man who had scolded the officer was a golden scale. One side of the scale was piled high with coins, the other completely empty—yet the scale remained perfectly balanced.
This represented the Fixed Star Consortium. The origin of the consortium’s name was no secret: its founder once claimed, “In the future, even the price of stars can be decided by us.”
The man arguing with him had a finely detailed war hammer embroidered on his sleeve. The hammerhead was black, while the handle glowed like flowing magma—clearly the mark of Gods’ Heavy Industries.
As for the “Xiao Yue” mentioned by the Light Institute’s representative, she was the silent girl standing off to the side. She looked very young, about fifteen or sixteen, wearing what resembled an academy uniform. On her chest was a metal badge engraved with a pale pink heart. When light shone on it, the lines of the emblem seemed to flow, as if the heart itself were gently beating—making it obvious at a glance that she came from the Celestial Heart Association.
The feud between the Consortium and Gods’ Heavy Industries had lasted so long that no one could clearly trace its origins anymore. It seemed to have started over a dispute involving an extraordinary artifact. The people in Godsforge were notoriously wired differently from normal folk, with little understanding of the word “decorum.”
After losing once to the Consortium, they had secretly tried to cause trouble behind the scenes. Unfortunately, their methods were crude enough that anyone could tell it was them. Over time, the two sides developed deep animosity and still couldn’t stand the sight of each other.
One side saw the other as crude, ill-mannered craftsmen with faulty brains; the other viewed their rivals as merchants reeking of money, full of underhanded schemes, obsessed with profit and devoid of shame.
Even members who merely belonged to the two organizations would inevitably exchange barbs when they met.
Strictly speaking, none of them could be considered the most elite figures within their respective factions. But because the incident was sudden and required an immediate response in the lower levels, options were limited. Combined with the political maneuvering between layers, the task ultimately fell to them.
“How long until the Council arrives?”
In this world, there were no “nations,” only “cities.” Each city was unimaginably vast. As independent, self-governing political entities, cities did not have a single ruler akin to an emperor. Instead, they were governed by a Council.
The Council Chair held the greatest authority—effectively equivalent to a “city lord”—with the Upper Council and Lower Council serving as auxiliary bodies.
Even so, the Council could not simply dictate everything within the city. Under the balance of multiple powerful factions, it could only barely be considered the top authority locally. Organizations like the Light Institute, the Celestial Heart Association, and Gods’ Heavy Industries did not exist in just one city. Even the Fixed Star Consortium was a super-corporation spanning multiple cities.
As a result, there were times when the Council found itself constrained when facing these colossal organizations.
Each city’s political structure was complex, with dangerous undercurrents flowing beneath the surface. Now that traces of the long-vanished [Cup]—missing for a hundred years—had been discovered in the city’s lower levels, the shock wouldn’t be limited to this city alone. If other cities learned of it, the consequences would be even more severe.
And yet, at such a critical moment, the Council was arriving so slowly. What were they thinking?
“Hmph. Aren’t those Council people always like this?” the young man from the Consortium scoffed. “Dragging their feet, hesitant about everything.”
He had the confidence to say such things. With the Fixed Star Consortium backing him, he could afford to be arrogant—no one would dare do much about it.
“Beep.”
Someone’s communicator chimed.
The middle-aged man from the Light Institute tapped open the device on his wrist, read the message, and then spoke with mild surprise. “The Council sent word. They’ll be an hour late and want us to wait.”
“Such airs,” the young man snorted. “Do they even understand how urgent the situation is?”
Just as he finished speaking, the middle-aged man added, his tone faintly amused, “They’re sending people from the Upper Council.”
“…Huh?!”
Not only the young man—several others also turned their heads, surprise evident on their faces.
In this city, the Council’s bicameral system was brutally simple: the Upper Council outranked the Lower Council. The Chair resided permanently in the topmost levels. Levels two and three formed the upper districts, where the Upper Council was based, drawing almost all its talent from those areas. Only the very best from other districts could break through the barrier to enter the Upper Council.
Levels four and five made up the middle districts, primarily governed by the Lower Council, which also oversaw levels six and seven, the lower districts. Although the Lower Council managed more layers, in terms of authority, the Upper Council was unquestionably stronger.
Nearly everyone in this group had come from the lower districts precisely because time was critical. In the end, this matter would never be left solely to the lower districts, but speed was everything right now—they needed to act fast and gather as much information as possible.
And yet—
“Has the Council gone mad? They’d rather delay things just to wait for their people?”
Almost everyone asked the same question in their minds. What on earth was the Council thinking?
Were they doing this just to assert dominance over the other factions?
But was now really the time for that?
“We can’t wait for them. Time is tight, and this matter is too important to delay. Who knows what could happen?”
Almost immediately, someone proposed this.
The young man from the Consortium narrowed his eyes in thought, then quickly echoed, “I agree.”
Whatever the Council was plotting—whether sheer madness or some deeper calculation—they had to verify the truth of the matter immediately and get to the bottom of it.
As for “defying the Council’s orders”?
There would be plenty of excuses to shift the blame later.
