This Game Is Too Real-Chapter 768: To make the grass grow well, you must first set it on fire

Jin Jialun Port Governor’s Office.

One man sat in his chair grandly, while another paced anxiously back and forth in the office.

On the desk were two cups of tea, one still hot, the other cold and untouched.

Laxi watched Yoder hold his chin thoughtfully, taking too long to reply, and couldn’t help but curse.

"...Can you stop beating around the bush? It’s making me dizzy just watching you."

Yoder glanced at him irritably, then out the window, and sighed heavily while shaking his head.

Seeing Yoder wanted to say something but was not speaking, Laxi’s eyebrows twitched violently.

"Just say it."

Finally, Yoder spoke up.

"Does the general know why Mr. Fang moved you from the front line to the rear?"

Laxi picked up the teacup, blew on it, and replied indifferently.

"I know."

Yoder’s brow twitched violently, struggling to keep his temper, he continued to ask.

"Then why are you so restless?"

"Restless? Ha! The Empire slaughters my people, butchers my kin, and you ask why I am restless?" Laxi raised his eyebrows, his eyes narrowing into slits as he fired a piercing gaze at him, "Every day I waste here, I can’t tell how many families are broken and lives are lost!"

"I will never forget what happened at Lowell Camp, and that’s just a speck of dust, a blade of grass on this four million square kilometers of land! I’m telling you, I wish I could go to Tiandu right now and chop up the emperor and his family, tear down the thousand pillars of the City of Thousand Pillars!"

Yoder wanted to say something, but Laxi cut him off.

"You’re from the Snake Clan, there must have been your own people who died on Ten Peaks Mountain and the wilds of the Wei estate. You’ve read the Survivor’s Daily; the way they died can’t even be called cannon fodder, yet that fool Witch Camel is not only unrepentant but thrilled, planning to continue sending people to that godforsaken place to die. Before you persuade me, you might want to think about your own kin—"

"Enough!"

Yoder suddenly roared, interrupting Laxi’s endless talking.

His chest heaved, his face, usually written with composure, smoothness, and patience, now rarely showed a trace of losing control.

Staring hard at Laxi, he almost wanted to grab him by the collar, but restrained himself.

"I’m worried about you, dammit! You short-lived fool, you’re not unclear about the situation in the north; those idiots may be your kin, but with them, who are even worse than feudal lords’ armies, what difference is there between going there and courting death?"

Surprised, Laxi’s face showed a trace of astonishment. He was not offended but had not expected this usually low-key person to have such a forthright side and laughed heartily.

"What a joke! A turtle that shrinks its head lives long, so what use do I have being a turtle! You mock me for my short life, I mock you for living too long and being bored with it. Hey, I’m settling for being a short-lived ghost today!"

Yoder didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, watching Laxi finish his tea and ready to leave, he personally went to pour him another half cup and stopped him.

"My general, my ancestor, consider the actual situation—"

Laxi sneered. "How could I be any clearer about the situation in the north than you? Don’t forget the battlefield reports are first delivered to my office! I’m studying firsthand reports and you think you know more from second-hand ones? A bunch of pigheads fighting such a dull war, the more I read, the angrier I get, I’m downing bottle after bottle!"

While talking, he seemed to remember the reports again and gritted his teeth in anger.

Yoder sighed.

"But general, what difference would it make if you went?"

Without hesitation, Laxi retorted.

"The Resistance is incompetent, but I am not! And neither are my Moon people!"

Yoder couldn’t help but ask again.

"What if you lose?"

Laxi spoke indifferently.

"It’s just death."

The room fell silent.

Yoder stared blankly at him, thinking the term "short-lived fool" was just a joke, only to realize that he was serious.

This guy was truly betting his life...

His Adam’s apple moved, he silently picked up his own teacup, and saluted the general.

"I didn’t expect you to have such an awakening, I was disrespectful."

"Don’t act like you’re sending me off, I’m not dead yet," Laxi replied, touching his cup to Yoder’s and grinning, "Even if I die, it’s better for me to lead them to death than for them to live in such a miserable way. In the end, if they don’t bring down the emperor but extinguish the fiery blood in the hearts of the young across Poluo Province, it would truly not be gratifying!"

While they were talking, footsteps came from outside the office, and a young man walked in.

"Mr. Yoder, a telegram from the City of Dawn."

"What does the telegram say!" Laxi, unable to wait for Yoder to speak, stood up and asked eagerly.

The young man carefully glanced at Yoder and seeing him nod, continued.

"Mr. Fang says... it’s approved."

Laxi’s face beamed with joy, laughing heartily, he gave a bow to Yoder.

"I’ll take my leave!"

As he said that, he strode out the door, not pausing for a moment, leaving only Yoder and the young man behind.

After glancing in the direction Laxi left, the young man looked at Yoder, and after a moment of hesitation asked.

"Mr. Yoder... is this really okay?"

He belonged to the Horse Clan and, although not a noble, he had worked for them before becoming a civil servant at the city hall, so he was quite well-off.

As for someone like Laxi, he felt a mix of admiration and fear, with a slight disdain.

The admiration was because the Old Aristocrats and masters feared that fellow, fear also because the guy was truly not a good thing, unpredictable, and ruthless.

As for the disdain, there was probably a hint of jealousy.

The local people were involved in building railways, subways, and renovating the High City Area under the city hall, yet the common folk admired the ruthless Laxi more, who would even kill his own people.

Compared to Yoder, Laxi’s prestige among the residents of Jin Jialun Port was significantly higher.

If it weren’t for his complete lack of interest in becoming the mayor, Mr. Yoder would have found it quite challenging to compete with that guy... without resorting to tricks.

"Perhaps Mr. Fang has his own judgment," Yoder sighed softly after a long silence.

Having served as the "acting mayor" for so long, he had somewhat felt the difficulties Mr. Fang faced.

Most of the time, what he had to do was not to choose the best option out of two reliable ones, but to choose the lesser of two evils from unreliable options.

Was it to extinguish the flame that had finally kindled, or to let it burn and see what might emerge from the flames?

He felt that if he were in Mr. Fang’s shoes, he might well have made the same decision.

Actually, that guy wasn’t all that bad, a fellow blatantly aiming to be an emperor or a military faction leader is better than Yoder of the North Federation, who shouts about freedom but becomes an emperor and yet calls himself president.

The former, at least, might be reformed; after all, the youth of Poluo Province don’t yet see equality as a scourge, while what Laxi thinks alone isn’t important. But the latter is trickier; right and wrong can be turned upside down, and only a great war or a fire burning to its peak can start anew.

As a reformist, he didn’t actually dislike people like Laxi. If he had to rank them, such people were generally more likable than those who are pro-empire, even though he couldn’t come to admire them.

"Let’s take it one step at a time," Yoder shook his head and returned to his desk to continue reviewing the new textbook proposal submitted by the Education Workers’ Association...

On the other side, having left the city hall, Laxi stopped at the entrance of the City Hall.

Suddenly, he turned back to look at the Jin Jialun and Alliance flags fluttering in the square and then took off the officer’s cap on his head and placed it on the flagpole stand.

"You said not to kneel; today, I will not kneel."

"One day when all the survivors of Poluo Province replace kneeling with a bow and a fist bump, whoever dares to kneel again, whoever they may be kneeling to, I’ll saw off their grandmother’s legs!"

Having said this, he bowed three times, straightened his back, and walked away.

That day, the Jin Jialun Port City Hall accepted the resignation letter submitted by the head of the Civil Defense Office, Laxi.

Along with him, 100 officers and soldiers from the Militia Group also resigned.

It was said that on the day he returned to the camp and spoke out, the number of those who submitted their resignation letters more than doubled.

And regarding these resignation letters, the Jin Galun Port authorities, under the instruction of the governor’s secretary, approved them one by one.

These young fellows returned the military caps, uniforms, and epaulets that had been issued to them by the authorities, as well as the guns strapped to their shoulders.

From today on, they will no longer be the revered militiamen, but simply ordinary residents of Jingga Lun Port.

However, as they left the barracks, they were cheered by the entire city of Jin Galun Port.

People gathered in the streets, threw flowers at them, handed them fruits, hugged them, as if seeing off a group of departing heroes.

When everyone was expressing their resentment toward the Empire’s shamelessness, these young men stood out.

Their birth was not glorious, their records not particularly brave, and their ancestors had no illustrious military achievements, but everyone could see the courage and determination to face death in their eyes.

The young men walking among the crowds held their heads high and chests out, eyes filled with pride as they looked at the people offering them flowers.

To have such a moment in life was to die without regrets!

Many of them remembered.

A similar event had happened once before, on the day the Empire was defeated.

However, at that time the flowers were tossed to the people of the Alliance, not to those who had also shed their blood.

They did not envy the Alliance for stealing their glory; after all, they were well aware that they could not defeat the Empire on their own and that their performance was indeed not as spectacular as those fellows’, who had a hundred or so men chasing tens of thousands to run headlong into the river.

Even though they took the residents of Jinga Lun Port’s adoration for the Alliance for granted, there was inevitably some envy in their hearts.

They too yearned for the recognition of their compatriots.

And how they longed for the unity of those who had already come together!

Especially after they learned of everything that had taken place in City of Dawn, Dawn City, Giant Stone City, and so on, through books and newspapers that had traveled across the seas, that longing gleamed even more intensely until it became a new faith.

Miracles are neither innate nor guaranteed to occur.

The awakening of the residents of Jingga Lun Port began with Survivor’s Daily, and their awakening had already planted seeds the moment they fought shoulder to shoulder with those people.

Someone must take the first step!

Now it was their turn to tread the path those people had once walked!

As the young men strode forward with heads held high, Paru, who had been called from the port district’s police station to maintain order on the scene, was searching for his trampled shoe.

It had cost him half a month’s salary, a total of more than nine hundred Gallons.

When he finally found it in a corner of the crowd, he pounced on it with joy, hugging it to his chest and heaving a sigh of relief.

"Thank the Horse God for his blessing!"

Muttering to himself, he hurriedly slipped on the shoe and strode back into the crowd with head high.

With a flip of his hands, he signaled left and right, chasing away a few kids who were causing a commotion, and when night fell and the crowd dispersed, he wiped the sweat from the effort he had put in and walked to the nearby police station’s lounge to rest his legs.

The police station was filled with young men, all fervently discussing the Empire and cursing Witch Camel for not treating the people of the Rat Clan and the commoners of the Empire as human beings.

"Joining the Sticky Community is certainly good! But couldn’t we do it in a different way? Mr. Manager never forced everyone to blindly strap themselves in and support the cause of all humanity, could we not change the method?"

"Exactly! We could have bought some industrial equipment with the consolation money from the Sticky Community and then taken some orders from them. But that damned Witch Camel wants to trade lives for it!"

"No idea where the money was spent!"

"Ah, I hope those young men can win..."

"There are donation spots at several stalls in Crab Market, and the owners of the dyeing and textile factories are calling for donations. I went and donated a bit yesterday,"

"Is it reliable?"

"How can it not be? The boss of the Assassin Group himself donated one million silver coins! Could those big traders care about your little bit of money?"

"Hiss... with that kind of money, you could buy a tank!"

Criticizing the Empire had become a fashion in Jinga Lun Port, everyone was doing it, including Paru who used to reminisce about Nihack but had recently fallen out of love with that obsolete thing and occasionally joined in the cursing too.

But when it came to those young men who caused traffic congestion and gave him a lot of trouble, he just couldn’t be happy.

Couldn’t they have slipped away quietly in the night without making a sound?

Especially that unlucky bunch, who almost made him lose one of his new shoes.

However, sitting there, he didn’t dare to speak out against them openly, only humming a small tune under his breath.

"Heh, it wouldn’t even be useful to give them power armor... Following Laxi, that drunkard, I’m afraid all their passion might just be wasted."

Just by chance, Bacher, who was also on the periphery of the crowd, heard this complaint and looked at his colleague in surprise, saying incredulously, "How can you speak of them like that?"

He didn’t care about anything outside of his work, but he at least didn’t dislike those who dared to be the first to act.

If they truly succeeded, it would be advantageous, at least there would be fewer wronged souls drowned in the Everflow River.

Seeing someone join in on his scorn, Paru sneered and said,

"Do I need to say it? How could that Laxi ever accomplish anything? A slave-born fellow, without the Alliance, he’s nothing. Does he really think those people fear him?"

Seeming to feel that his point wasn’t persuasive enough, he hastily added another sentence, as if afraid he had missed something,

"And the most crucial thing is, he lacks thoughts."

Bacher couldn’t help but laugh and say,

"Then, what exactly is that... Are we talking about the same thing?"

He had thought this old-timer would say those young guys went out without bringing any guns.

Seeing how naive the kid was, Paru huffed and with a curl of his lip started listing off as if itemizing treasures,

"Gods are just fictitious shackles, thoughts are the sword that cuts through those shackles! Relying on heaven or earth is no good; rely on yourself. To get rich, you use your hands and your brain. Respecting others means respecting yourself... You must not have read the Survivor’s Daily, have you? Not even knowing something as important as thoughts, how can you be a guard! Young man, your attitude is a real problem!"

Bacher looked at him blankly, not really remembering that the newspapers had written so much, only remembering that the Alliance guy told him that Mouse Tribe people could also be guards, and that illiteracy could be overcome with time.

Facing the old-timer’s rebuke, all he felt was a burning heat on his face, and for a moment he even began to reflect on whether he truly practiced equality in his everyday work and interactions with people.

"Then... do you have that ’something’?"

Bacher asked this question out of a sense of guilt, somewhat seeking advice.

He did not expect that having heard him, Paru, who was just boasting a second ago, suddenly jumped up as if his tail had been stepped on,

"You shifty-eyed scoundrel, how dare you say I don’t have it! Of course, I have it! When the Alliance first landed, I knew those guys who united everyone were sure to win!"

"And besides, if I hadn’t turned a blind eye to let them ashore, it wouldn’t have been so easy for them to win, you know. Why do you think I’m a harbor guard while you riffraff only fit to run errands on Knight Road? The furry ones have short sight, but how come you hairless ones are just as shortsighted?"

Bacher stared blankly at the animated old-timer, taking a step back, his eyes filled with a mix of pity and fear.

What he feared wasn’t that the old fellow’s mouth really had been touched by the "Light," sending those young lads to their deaths—after all, gods really don’t exist—but rather the sudden realization that the other side of the river was full of such characters.

They were much like the script Mr. Mouse had written for General Lowell’s biography, and now these ’L’s were praising the things brought by the Alliance, just as they initially praised the Weilante People for giving one thousand dinars... it was so good...

Assassinating the emperor is not that difficult.

But these people are the undying...

...

Dusk gradually fell, and the night grew deeper, leaving the Everflow River in complete silence and tranquility amid the lush reeds.

This place is to the northwest of Jingjialun Port, an undeveloped wasteland.

Originally named Reed Slope, it had now been dubbed by locals as Dead Man’s Slope, simply because the reeds concealed the bodies of those who had drowned.

Residents from the settlement escorted him to this point, where they would go no further.

Laxi and his followers were to board a boat at the riverside ferry, under the guise of members of the Assassin Group, to traverse the territory controlled by the Tiger Army.

Some got on the boat, others got off.

As Laxi surveyed those pitiable souls thanking the boatman profusely for their deliverance and the corpses hidden among the reeds, he watched from the bow of the ferry with a hint of disdain in his eyes.

With his back to his followers, he spoke in a voice neither too heavy nor too light.

"...Do you see those people fleeing on the Everflow River?" he asked.

"They clamor ashore like dogs fallen into water, desperately scrambling to land as though reaching it would let them lead a human life again... Ridiculous, utterly pathetic. Instead of being decent humans, they choose to live like dogs."

The crowd remained silent.

Though they supported Laxi, and were not opposed to him taking the throne, this did not mean they agreed with everything he said.

Apart from the initial group of officers who had handed in their resignations to follow him—his close confidants—many had joined him out of sheer idealism.

Among them, there were those who sympathized with the refugees, and who stepped up precisely to aid them at the root of their plight.

Seeing no one respond, Laxi snorted coldly, but his tone then shifted.

"Being a dog may be shameful, but who is it that turned them into dogs!" he exclaimed.

"Their parents?"

"The people here?"

"You?"

"Or perhaps the Alliance? The Army? Ideal City?"

"No, none of them! It’s that Witch Camel, his ministers, and the thousands upon thousands of farms with slaveholding farmers! It’s these bone-crushing monsters who have transformed people into dogs, warping the relationship between man and man into that of dog and dog!"

"Today, you follow me upstream not only to save the Moon people but also to save the countless slaves! If one day I am crowned emperor, whether you believe in me or not, I swear never to let a citizen of West Winds live like pigs and dogs again!"

...

A week had passed since Laxi resigned, and the commotion stirred up by those young men had been bubbling in Jing Jialun Port for just as long.

The entire settlement praised Laxi and those young men, even the Old Aristocrats who once feared him like a plague.

In the port district.

Near the entrance of Triumph Hotel was a breakfast shop, decorated just like those in the City of Dawn. It was frequented by the locals, especially popular among those wearing Blue Jackets who occasionally dined there.

Two well-dressed men sat at a table, ordering three baskets of soup dumplings which they paired with ginger vinegar, all the while pointing and remarking on the newly published Survivor’s Daily.

Red Soil had just wrapped up L’s story, finally getting to the crux of the matter—but rather than launching into a narrative about General Lowell or the Red Soil, it bizarrely chose a diary written by a madman to lead into a detailed account of an occurrence briefly mentioned in the prologue involving people eating soil.

The article induced chills in its readers.

The earth in their mouths felt like succulent meat, and the blood-drenched mud cakes were too reminiscent of human hearts and livers.

With a madman as the protagonist, the ramblings in his diary might’ve seemed ridiculous, but Mr. Mouse wrote them with such realism it made one doubt his own sanity. Upon reflection, one even began to doubt oneself, to the point where even the tasty soup dumplings lost their appeal.

Following a shudder, the two men hastily changed the subject, hurriedly discussing the recent talk of the town—the "United Federation."

That was the name the young people of Jinjaron Harbor gave to Laxi and his band of boys who had left the city to fight for the overthrow of the Empire, as well as the hopes they placed on those men.

At first, it was just a name, but later some radical youths registered the organization and set up a supervised account at the banks of Jinga Lun, actively fundraising for those men. It now even felt a bit like a factional group.

Although Laxi still on the road might not recognize this "honorably" bestowed identity, he probably wouldn’t refuse the equipment and money that came knocking at his door.

"That Laxi probably has no good intentions, I spotted right away that he wants to be Emperor."

"Ha, only you could see that?"

"Don’t you think this is just fooling around?"

"I flipped through the old books sent by the Alliance, and the history of the United Human actually has its own version of constitutional monarchism."

The Cow Clan member opposite him widened his eyes.

"That disgraceful stuff? The United Human is buried in the trash heap of history! And you’re still rummaging for food in that trash heap?!"

The Horse Clan member eating a steamed bun gave him a helpless expression.

"But can it be worse than Witch Camel?"

The Cow Clan member fell silent.

That’s also true...

Who could be more disgraceful than West Winds.

Even if he also had royalty blood in his veins, and even a title from the Empire.

Those things he normally doesn’t even bother to talk about for fear of people’s disdain.

In the corner of the breakfast joint, a somewhat mature-looking youth sat quietly reading the paper.

A few average-looking but robust men sat around him eating noodles carelessly, staring down anyone who tried to come near with their gaze.

Except for the waiter who came to refill the tea.

Noticing the newspaper in the customer’s hand, Zayed spoke in a very soft voice,

"The news on this page is about Fried Dough Stick Port. They plan to renovate their port and need more steel, cement, and workers."

Ah Xin raised his eyebrows slightly, looking at the interesting waiter with a smile.

"Can you tell I can’t read?"

Zayed nodded slightly and spoke soothingly,

"You have a zeal for knowledge, but your beef noodles are better eaten while they’re hot; the soup will make the noodles soggy."

Ah Xin smiled faintly.

"You’re an interesting fellow, with enough learning to read and write, why not teach instead of waiting tables here?"

This man looked somewhat familiar, like someone he’d seen at Triumph Hotel, but perhaps dismissed for some reason.

He could guess why—probably for talking too much while guests were dining.

Not a good habit.

And he just happened to meet someone like himself, who came up from the grassroots and wouldn’t take offense. Besides, this was Alliance territory, so he had to play the part of a good gentleman.

If it were someone with less patience, they would definitely have argued with him.

Of course, the possibility that this brother deliberately approached knowing he wouldn’t take offense can’t be excluded.

Zayed, hearing the frivolity in that voice, didn’t mind and simply smiled faintly.

"Teaching doesn’t change the Empire. I teach one, I teach ten, and it doesn’t change anything."

As if hearing something hilarious, Ah Xin laughed out loud and put down the newspaper.

"You’re quite an interesting fellow. I compliment you on being cultured, and you act as if you’re out of your league. Now you tell me, how’s being a waiter going to change the Empire?"

Not only did Ah Xin laugh, but his henchmen sitting aside also chuckled.

Except for the blunt and straightforward Kunal.

He didn’t find it funny, but instead showed plain disdain with a curl of his lip.

These days, it seems everyone talks about rebellion, even the waiter in a breakfast nook dreams such a vivid daydream.

The noodle shop owner was frantically making eye signals from a distance, almost out of desperation, trying to steer Zayed away from that plague god.

This guy was the boss of the Assassin Group!

Who in the port didn’t know what business he was in?

Annoy him and there’s fear someone would have to fish them out of the Everflow River.

But Zayed acted as if he hadn’t seen it.

He didn’t care about the job he was doing, just like he hadn’t cared about the job at Triumph Hotel.

He was here working just waiting for the eye of a noble, and now it seemed he had finally found it.

Whether it would work out or not was up to fate; after all, this wasn’t his first failure.

Still smiling faintly, Zayed continued,

"Being a waiter won’t change the Empire, but it can save me enough for travel expenses."

Hearing he was just a "peach seed" saving for a ticket, Ah Xin looked down on him even more, though he didn’t show it, only picking up his chopsticks to eat his noodles.

"...Fried Dough Stick Port, huh, it’s a fine place, but they only welcome those who work earnestly. I advise you to fix your high-minded and low-handed ways, acting all slow; you’re nothing like the people of Jin Galun Port, afraid you can’t even be a good waiter at a noodle shop."

He was getting somewhat annoyed.

Yet to his surprise, the waiter said,

"Why go to Potato Harbor? I want to go to City of Dawn."

"What would you do there?" Ah Xin paused, giving him another look, but didn’t expect the waiter to come up with such an astonishing answer.

"Laxi won’t make it, Yoder won’t make it, not one person in Jin Jialun Port can save Poluo Province, what happened in Giant Stone City has not one in ten thousand chance of happening here... They all lack one thing, and that thing is in City of Dawn."

Staring intently at the astonished Ah Xin, Zayed leaned his hands on the table.

"I don’t want to watch the youth of Poluo Province shed their blood in vain; I have to go there and bring it back!"