Extreme Cold Era: Shelter Don't Keep Waste-Chapter 703 - 656: Might Is Truth

The environment in Pripyat is much worse than in Beloburg; the air is filled with a rotten egg smell. Although it wasn't strong, Perfikot still caught a whiff of that unpleasant odor after removing her breathing mask.

"Doesn't this foul air bother you?" Unable to tolerate the smell, Perfikot put her breathing mask back on while questioning the officials of Pripyat and several factory representatives before her.

In response to Perfikot's attitude, one of them said with a hint of pride, "Count, this is the smell of industry! It's a symbol of technology and civilization! We've gotten used to it!"

Hearing this, Perfikot's face showed an expression of mixed helplessness and amusement.

"When coal is burned directly, it produces sulfur dioxide, which is the main source of the rotten egg smell in the air." Perfikot, whose mood has been relatively stable lately, patiently explained to them, "Sulfur dioxide is an irritating gas that, when inhaled for a long time or in high concentration, can irritate the respiratory tract, causing coughing, wheezing, and difficulty breathing.

Furthermore, it also irritates the eyes, possibly causing redness, pain, and tearing. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

I have already inquired that the number of cases of asthma and other respiratory diseases in Pripyat is increasing this year, which directly relates to the poor air quality.

If you don't take action, this city will be ruined by you."

As Perfikot was speaking, a tall and thin elderly man among the factory representatives suddenly began to cough.

His once pale, waxy cheeks quickly turned red and swollen, as if he was coughing up his lungs.

His rapidly heaving chest resembled an old bellows, emitting a creaky, unpleasant sound.

It was the sound of someone critically ill, akin to an old bellows that, once gently pulled, makes a loud noise.

Perfikot watched as he tightly clutched his mouth, noting the bluish-purple hue appearing on his pale, withered knuckles, and subtly shook her head.

This person was showing symptoms of oxygen deficiency, a direct sign of his respiratory system being overburdened.

"Go get him a glass of water." Perfikot instructed her maid before approaching the elderly man, "You should sit down and rest; I am not so heartless."

"Thank you, Count! Ahem!" The old man attempted to express his gratitude, but barely spoke a few words before he started coughing again, using a handkerchief to cover his nose and mouth to prevent contaminating Perfikot.

Quickly, the maid brought a cup of hot water, which Perfikot took directly and stirred with the Golden Touching Rod before handing it to the old man, "Drink this; it should help you feel better."

The old man felt somewhat overwhelmed as he took the cup, trying hard not to continue coughing while attempting to sip the hot water.

The warm liquid soothed his parched body, seemingly lubricating his dry chest, causing his coughs to gradually subside and his breathing to become noticeably quiet.

"Your body is no longer fit to live in this city; find some time to move away soon. Stay any longer, and you won't live much longer." Perfikot looked at the old man, a touch of mercy crossing her heart, unwilling to watch the old man cough himself to death.

In fact, the handkerchief he previously covered his mouth with showed traces of red when he put it away, which Perfikot had already noticed.

Coughing up blood is not a good sign, especially for an elderly person whose body has essentially collapsed; it's a precursor to physical failure.

"No, no, Count, excuse me!" At this moment, a man fitting the stereotype of a capitalist appeared: a fat man with a large belly, his squinted eyes full of cunning and treachery.

However, ignoring his remarks, Perfikot simply looked at the elderly man, speaking sincerely, "Life consists of nothing but unrelenting obsessions; I don't know why you work so hard at your age.

But if you still want to live a few more years, move to Chernobyl; it's more suitable for you."

After that, Perfikot turned to the others, snorted coldly, and said, "I'm not negotiating; I'm informing you! This is an order, and you must comply!"

"But Count, this will increase unnecessary expenses and raise our production costs!" The crafty-looking fat man spoke once more, his cheeks jiggling as he babbled incessantly, trying to persuade Perfikot to retract her order.

Perfikot simply pointed her Golden Touching Rod at him, a hint of cold killing intent in her eyes.

This made the sly individual step back instantly, as if Perfikot was holding something lethal.

Admittedly, from a certain standpoint, it was indeed a weapon, and a very deadly one, but Perfikot rarely used her Golden Touching Rod for murder; it was merely a deterrent.

And this deterrent was remarkably effective.

"It seems you somewhat understand who truly rules the Northern Territory." Perfikot nodded slightly, deliberately adopting an arrogant posture.

Though she wasn't inherently arrogant, this attitude sometimes helped achieve her goals more easily.

For example, the officials of Pripyat were already bowing to Perfikot, showing their submission.

The city-slicker fat man, meanwhile, was mumbling something akin to 'The National Assembly should be leading the Empire now' 'The Prime Minister is the true ruler of the Northern Territory' 'We gave him such good gifts'—words that left people confused.

Perfikot felt content with this outcome, despite the fat man spoiling the atmosphere.

She didn't want to show leniency toward this sly-looking man, planning to give him a 'little lesson.'

"In the Northern Territory, my words are the truth; my decisions are the laws that every city must obey." Looking at the fat man, Perfikot gazed down on him, her eyes conveying superiority, and said in a lofty and ethereal voice, "If the Assembly and the Prime Minister oppose, they will cease to exist; I will personally ensure that."