Chapter 69: A Future Where Only One in Ten Survives

In the private reception room on the second floor of the town’s government tower, Ren Zhong and Ma Dafu sat facing each other.

Ma Xiaoling had wanted to join them, but the old fat man had sent her away. She stomped her feet in frustration, but there was nothing she could do.

In the center of the room stood an antique tea table, on which a pot of steaming, fragrant tea awaited. This was no ordinary tea from the supply co-op; it was Ma’s private reserve. The aroma alone seemed to lift Ren Zhong’s spirits.

As a fourth-tier citizen, a status forever out of reach for the wastelanders, Ma Dafu certainly had the right to enjoy such luxuries.

“Please, Mr. Ren, have some tea,” Ma offered with a gesture.

Ren Zhong lifted his cup and took a small sip. A strange blend of sweetness and bitterness blossomed on his tongue.

“How is it?” Ma Dafu asked with a smile.

By all rights, Ren should have been in the interrogation room in the basement, but since Ma set the rules, the two now sat here instead. What would strike fear into the heart of any ordinary wastelander had become a pleasant gathering over tea.

Ren set his cup down. “Good tea. But…”

“But what?”

“It’s too good.”

Ma Dafu was surprised, but soon nodded. “It is too good. Just this cup alone is worth two or three months of an ordinary wastelander’s living expenses.”

Since Ma had laid his cards on the table, Ren knew his earlier suspicions were correct. Despite living a life of luxury, Ma Dafu retained an improbable sympathy for those at the bottom.

The tea was finished; pleasantries exchanged. It was nearly nine o’clock at night, so Ma Dafu decided to get to the point. “Mr. Ren, what brings you to see me today?”

Ren replied, “Wasn’t I brought here by your guards?”

Ma Dafu narrowed his eyes. “Although we’ve only met once before, I’ve always prided myself on reading people. The first time I saw you, I noticed your scholarly air. You are intelligent and emotionally astute. If you’d truly wanted to kill someone, you could have done it quietly, leaving no trace. You could have, but you didn’t. Instead, you acted in public. That’s not like someone of your temperament. Which means your real purpose was to see me.

“The other day, we talked about the census officer. I showed clear concern; you observed me the whole time. I observed you as well. I know you care about this matter. You even said if I ever needed advice, I should come to you. A clear hint. I also know you and Sun Miao were colleagues—very close, in fact.

“Sun Miao is no simple character, which means neither are you. You used the excuse of killing a villain to see me. First, because you waited three days, and I didn’t come to you for advice. Second, to use this incident to test my character, to see if I am trustworthy.

“Well, Mr. Ren, am I right?”

Ren lifted his cup again, took another small sip, and said, “You’re exactly right. I do want to know what will happen next in Spark Town.”

He thought to himself, Never underestimate the heroes of the world! If even a small-town mayor is this shrewd, the iron walls of this system must be truly daunting.

At the same time, he felt a sense of relief.

First, Ma the Fatty was probably not a werewolf.

Second, not only did he have brains, but he could be reborn.

Of course, Ma Dafu had missed one thing. Ren had indeed come because of the census officer and Spark Town. After waiting three days without any news and finding no reasonable way to meet Ma, he had simply gone with the flow, committed a crime, and delivered himself to the town hall.

After all, Ma had obtained crucial information from Ren, and would surely be willing to return the favor, smoothing over this minor trouble.

In this way, Ren now owed Ma a favor. When Ma faced difficulties in the future, he would recall this clever debtor.

Sometimes, intentionally owing someone is a way to draw closer. Once the bond was established and Ren became one of Ma’s advisers, he could uncover the real crises hidden within Spark Town and peel back another layer of the vast world of Source Star.

Ma took a sip of his tea. “Three months from now, Spark Town will be abolished. It’s unreasonable, but it’s a hard fact. I thought, at worst, they’d just cut the quota for temporary wastelanders. Sigh.”

“What have you heard, Mayor Ma?”

“I can only confirm one thing: the owner of Spark Resources got wind of it early. Beyond that, nothing.”

“No warning signs?”

“There are, but none are certain.”

“Once Spark Town is abolished, where will the wastelanders go?”

“Into the wild. There aren’t any nearby towns that could absorb a population of twenty thousand. At best, maybe one or two thousand might be lucky enough to enter other towns, another one or two thousand might survive the Beast Zone and reach the wastelander tribes four hundred kilometers away. This group would mostly be scavengers with some combat abilities. As for the rest…”

“They’ll all die?”

“One in ten might survive.”

“Is there any chance the census outcome could change?”

Ren had already deduced most of this. What he really wanted to know was how the census mechanism actually worked—something the watch never made clear, but everyone in this world was supposed to know. He couldn’t ask directly, so he probed.

Ma Dafu shook his head. “It’s very difficult.”

“How so?”

“You grew up in a big city, so you might not know. Whatever the hidden reasons, in every phase of the census, parameters like population growth, birth rate, average intelligence, morale, and material output are all taken into account. But the most important is the development index of professionals. A level-five professional must emerge from within the wastelanders of the town, and that person must defeat a level-five challenger sent for the strength assessment, and also be willing to vouch for the town. Only then can the process of abolition be interrupted.”

Ren was startled. “That’s nearly impossible.”

Level five, in less than three months.

For him, it was absurd.

The most likely candidates were the professionals in Lin Wang’s team, but they obviously already knew and chose to ignore it. The professional team and Spark Resources probably already had an escape plan—or maybe were even behind it. Even if they advanced, they wouldn’t step forward; they’d keep their distance.

Ren didn’t naively ask why, if high-level professionals were needed, Ma tolerated the professional team’s oppression of the semi-professionals and the stifling of talent. In a world full of beasts, there must be its own jungle law. Ma was too smart not to know what happened under his nose. If he let it slide, he must have his reasons.

“It’s late. I won’t keep you any longer,” Ren said, rising to leave.

At that moment, a knock sounded at the door, and the secretary’s voice came from outside.

“Mayor, there are many wastelanders outside the town hall. They want to vouch for Mr. Ren and prove his innocence.”

The two men exchanged a glance. For wastelanders to “pressure the authorities” was no small thing, but Ma Dafu showed no displeasure. He smiled and said, “As expected, the best way to win the recognition of other wastelanders is to kill the wicked. If, three months from now, there’s truly no hope, I hope you’ll take as many people as you can to wherever you want them to go. Every extra survivor is worth it. It’s not for nothing I’ve guarded this town all these years.”

Ren nodded but didn’t answer. He knew Ma had still misjudged his origins.

Where could he even go?

For all the vastness of Source Star, he was the one truly without a home.

The times had not changed; everywhere was still a kind of hell.

Walking side by side with Ma Dafu out of the town hall, Ren looked down the steps at the dense crowd—over a hundred people kneeling—and his steps suddenly became heavy.

A chill ran down his spine.

They must all be here.

As he expected, nearly all were victims of the strongman named Huang.

Just a wastelander who’d gained a bit of power, breaking slightly free from the mire, had managed in just a year to enslave and exploit so many former peers.

Ma Dafu looked at Ren with approval, as if to praise his deeds.

But Ren only felt a cold sweat break out on his brow.

So many people bore deep hatred for Huang, and yet, for the sake of the man who avenged them, they came here to kneel in gratitude—yet not one had dared to take up a blade.

If each of you had wielded a knife, he would have been dead long ago!

You have the courage to kneel, but not the blood to fight together.

If all you know is kneeling, then with Huang dead today, tomorrow there will be a Lan, a Bai, a Hei.

I can’t kill them all for you!

How pathetic!

He wanted to make them all stand up, to tell them that beneath a person’s knees lay their dignity.

But in the end, he did not.

He was still far, far away from awakening a collective spirit of resistance.

Ren knew that, if he dared to say something heartfelt at this moment, he might well be carried off by the hunters the very next second.

This world could tolerate an individual’s compassion within the rules, but could never tolerate a group awakening to resistance.

He strode quickly through the crowd, calling out as he went, “Go home. I’ve been acquitted.”

Before the words had fully left his lips, he was already gone.

He didn’t want to see the look in those numb souls’ eyes as they begged for grace and were satisfied with so little.

Too abject.

...

At five in the morning, a loud crackle and pop sounded inside the armor.

Ren fumbled to open the helmet’s cover, yanking out the sparking, palm-sized amplifier device that Ju Qingmeng had installed for him, and flung it away as if it were a live grenade.

After another grueling eight-hour night, the jury-rigged amplifier had finally died.

Luckily, his power output had reached 10.7 kilowatts, surpassing the minimum for a level-one warrior—he no longer needed the amplifier.

At that moment, his brain response index was 53.3, physical index 13.4. Brain-machine synchronization couldn’t be tested, but it was definitely over 20% and still climbing.

Ren perfectly extracted the chip from the level-two Beasthusk before him and tallied his haul.

Excellent. After deducting costs and taxes, today’s net gain was 48.7 points, with a balance of 477.81.

If he made another quick trade this afternoon, cleared it out by 3:30, and drove off in the Thunderbolt at 4:30, he could speed straight to Mouse Cliff Mountain for accelerated development—and cut off all future trouble at the root.

Absolutely solid.