Chapter 765.2: The Unexpected Is The Normal State Of Life

Besides begging for sympathy, Niyan instructed the editor responsible for layout to print a bank account for accepting donations on the final page.

Sure enough, his newspaper began receiving one anonymous donation after another.

Sometimes the donors signed themselves as “The Supreme Giant of White Elephant City,” sometimes “The Benevolent and Compassionate Elephant Clan Poet,” and sometimes “The Boatman Fighting for Equality on the Everflowing River.”

Yet Niyan knew better than anyone that all those aliases belonged to the same person. After all, only one person in their embassy read the Dawn Garden Street Gazette from beginning to end.

Besides, whenever money had to be deposited at the bank, Niyan made the transfer on Duke Garawa’s behalf.

Were it not for the need to obtain bank receipts, he could have omitted the remittance process entirely.

Whenever the newspaper delighted Duke Garawa beyond measure, the Duke would even ask him to turn the news of the New Alliance’s imminent collapse into a telegram and send it to the Heavenly City, so that the respected emperor could share in that simple joy.

However, neither Duke Garawa nor His Majesty knew that the newspaper had been established and operated from beginning to end by their supposedly loyal servant.

“You’re playing with fire, boss... Dawn City is not Boulder Town. The people here will not tolerate anyone making jokes about their respected administrator. Even the most outrageous Goblin Observation would never mock a living god.” Looking at the increasingly excessive contents of the newspaper, the editor responsible for its layout shook his head and spoke to the man standing beside the blinds.

He was a recent immigrant who had not experienced the events of the past and had not even obtained an identity card. His feelings toward the administrator were not as fanatical as those of most people. He merely possessed ordinary respect.

After witnessing Sigma’s hypocrisy, he had finally understood how wonderful it was to have a leader who genuinely cared for his subordinates.

However, Dawn City’s people did not think so simply. Their feelings toward the administrator resembled the reverence Sunset Province’s residents held for the Spirit of the Desert.

Niyan did not turn around. He merely gazed through a gap in the blinds toward Embassy Street in the distance and spoke quietly. “No one understands the New Alliance better than I do. No one understands the administrator better than I do... I am his true fan. As long as we do not break any rules, nothing will happen to us.”

The editor smiled bitterly. “You must never have heard of the Sinderson case.”

He had heard about it before arriving in the New Alliance. Television stations in the Bugra Free State had frequently used the case to mock the New Alliance’s state of freedom.

Niyan continued unhurriedly.

“Of course I’ve heard of it. I even watched the verdict delivered in court and carefully studied the case files. You, on the other hand, probably know only the name Sinderson and believe you have already seen through the entire New Alliance. In reality, you are exactly like those people from your homeland, the Bugra Free State. You drank polluted water for so long that you lost your sense of taste, and now you cannot survive without simple definitions and labels.”

The editor was clearly unconvinced. However, because the other man was still his employer, he restrained his temper and asked in return. “Wasn’t that what happened? He ordered the Guard Corps to arrest the man.”

Niyan turned to look at him and smiled. “Then guess what would have happened to that man named Sinderson if he had not done so. This is the wasteland. The law can punish people who commit wrongdoing, but it cannot bring the dead back to life. I would wager that, forget boarding a train home, if the Guard Corps had not arrived in time, he would not even have walked out of that hotel alive.”

The editor laughed. “By that reasoning, are you claiming he was protecting that man?”

Niyan laughed as well. “Protecting him? Hahaha, as expected, I am the only one who truly understands that gentleman... He was protecting neither Sinderson nor the people rioting in his name. He was protecting the order the New Alliance established.”

In fact, it was precisely because of the Sinderson case that the New Alliance’s citizens erupted with unprecedented enthusiasm and voluntarily participated in the affairs of the representative assembly. They helped refine a series of laws, including regulations governing the newspaper industry.

Unlike the Xilande Emperor, and unlike Sigma of the Bugra Free State, the administrator guided the people’s fanaticism and loyalty toward him into the correct place.

That was also the quality Niyan admired most about him.

Looking at the speechless editor, Niyan continued, “Do as I say. That gentleman is not petty. I told you long ago that our work is deception. I need Duke Garawa’s money, and I need him to continue behaving foolishly. Beyond that, I still have many other things to do. It’s not merely improving my own life... I should also do a few good deeds.”

In truth, after spending some time in Dawn City, his mentality had already begun to change, especially after reading Bore the Awakener.

He could never forget one sentence: The tangible Stephan can be eliminated, but the intangible Stephan can never be destroyed. We are their ghosts, and they are ours.

Those words struck him like sudden enlightenment, abruptly awakening him as he wandered dazed and directionless through a maze.

What the Poro Province needed was not actually the great man he worshipped.

There was no meaning in enraging Duke Garawa to death. The Poro Province contained more than one White Elephant City and more than one duke. Moreover, the duke had a large number of wives and countless sons. He could pass his title down from generation to generation. If one wanted to eliminate a nest of cockroaches, one could not focus only on a single cockroach.

If Niyan truly angered him to death, not only would the Xilande Empire remain unchanged, but it might even experience a final resurgence after losing a fool whose only merit was his bloodline.

That was entirely possible.

After all, there were not many people as talented as Duke Garawa at attracting hatred. Niyan himself could not infuriate the New Alliance’s foreign minister enough to make him pound the table, but that fellow could make Banteno, a general of the Army, show open disgust without even needing to act.

In the end, if Duke Garawa died, Niyan would instead lose the only tool he could exploit. Therefore, rather than anger him with the Goblin Observation, it would be better to soothe him like an infant with a pacifier, allowing him to remain immersed in the sweetness of milk and honey.

Duke Garawa would never know where his money truly went. Niyan would use it to sponsor the Survivor’s Daily in French Fry Harbor, as well as help the Moonfolk members who had escaped Rowell Camp establish more editions of the Survivor’s Daily in Port Gallon, West Sail Harbor, and every other place where a single spark might ignite a prairie fire.

Moreover, he would not merely provide funding. He would also submit articles to the Survivor’s Daily in French Fry Harbor himself, just as Spielberg had written Bore the Awakener.

For that purpose, he had made a special trip to Boulder Town and interviewed those who had experienced its transformation. He had even spoken at length with Mr. Malvern, the white-haired director of the Boulder Town Library, and read the old man’s draft of a chronicle of the city.

He and the old man shared the same conclusion. Hal’s Survivor’s Daily had ignited the spark of enlightenment, while Spielberg’s Bore the Awakener had united Boulder Town’s suffering poor.

The transformation had actually begun long before anyone realized it. By the time Sid attempted to strangle it in its cradle, it was already far too late. The series of crises involving chips, S Coins, and economic overheating merely served as fuses that ultimately ignited the powder keg, accelerating the process and perhaps allowing a few fewer people to die.

Without that cultural awakening, no matter how many people died that night, it would have accomplished nothing.

Boulder Town would always have remained Boulder Town.

After speaking with the old man, Niyan had finally found a way to change the Xilande Empire.

While Duke Garawa proudly emptied his pockets into the Dawn Garden Street Gazette under the identity of “The Supreme Giant of White Elephant City,” Niyan was already writing the things the Duke hated most for the newspaper in French Fry Harbor under the pen names “Mr. Rat” and “The Big Rat God.”

His works included The Emperor’s New Carriage and A Thousand Needles.

Compared with Spielberg, Niyan possessed certain advantages. His literary ability and experience were both far richer than those of a factory worker, and most importantly, he did not need to begin by learning how to read.

Thank heavens that, whether to preserve aristocratic appearances or because he could not be bothered to personally write love letters to noble ladies and young misses, Duke Garawa had hired tutors for all his servants. Even a thickheaded fellow like Barblu could write, much less Niyan.

Looking at the editor obediently working at his desk, Niyan stood beside the blinds, raised his teacup, and took a sip. The manuscript slandering the administrator caused not the slightest ripple in his heart. However, his eyes suddenly lit up as a new inspiration occurred to him, and he smiled faintly in thought.

“House actually made a very reasonable point. ‘Lazy’ Boulder Town was destined for destruction, and deprivation is the best way to maintain its progress... Let me think. I’ll call the next article Red Soil.”

Apart from the City of a Thousand Pillars, nothing touched the deepest parts of the Poro Province’s survivors’ souls more profoundly than red soil.

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