Empire of Shadows

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Thunderstorm.

Pitter-patter the raindrops, large as soybeans, suddenly covered the entire city, as well as the surrounding areas.

It was as though a thin veil had been draped over the world, making everything less distinct.

Streets were bustling with people seeking shelter from the rain, their attractive dresses now clinging to shapely legs, looking even more beautiful when soaked.

A few people took refuge from the rain in the bakery, prompted by pride, they bought some bread, more or less.

Usually, at this time, some regulars would be engaging in conversations, enlivening the atmosphere, making the bakery seem cheerier.

But today, it appeared no one was in the mood to chat; each person had their own heavy thoughts.

They all gazed out at the dark skies, with clouds so low it seemed as though if you stepped outside and reached out, you could touch them.

They oppressed not only the skies above Golden Port City but also weighed on people's emotions.

Actually, thunderstorms like this were quite common in Golden Port City, especially during summer, being by the sea; they came quickly and left just as quickly.

Sometimes people were even thankful for them for washing away the city's dust, freshening the air, and bringing a hint of coolness to the sweltering city.

But now, no one was in the mood to think about such things.

It wasn't that the Federation had never experienced war or participated in one; precisely because they knew how terrifying it could be, they found themselves in a state of bewildered anxiety.

It's always fun to see others in misfortune, but when it falls upon oneself, nobody can laugh.

The gloomy sky was just like peoples' hearts, obscured by dark clouds blocking out the sunlight.

Lance, who thought he had seen his share of big events, could only watch dumbstruck as the great tide of history rolled in, powerless to do anything about it.

Because of the thunderstorm, there had been few people on the streets before noon.

Just after eleven, the thunderstorm finally ended, and the brilliant sunshine pierced through the gloom once more, tearing the clouds asunder and beaming down upon the earth.

After being washed by the rain, Golden Port City seemed to exude a new vitality everywhere, and the number of pedestrians on the streets gradually increased.

Councilman Petrit looked dissatisfiedly at his wet trouser cuffs. In principle, a "City Councilman" at the level of local politics in the Federation was not supposed to take sides.

That was the theory, at least.

But in reality, taking sides was necessary.

They aimed to climb higher, whether it meant running for Mayor or moving into the State Legislature, and they needed someone to back them.

Councilman Petrit was supported by a majority-party member of the State Senate, who in turn was endorsed by higher-ups in Congress.

Political orders were relayed from the top down, passing through the ranks until they reached him. He had a press conference scheduled for today, but the sudden downpour had irritated him.

Perhaps he could not articulate the profound statement that "Once you enter politics, you're no longer your own master," but he understood that from the moment he chose this path, he had lost many things, including parts of his own character.

By the time one reached this stage in the city's political arena, especially in an economic powerhouse like Golden Port City, there was no chance of climbing higher solely on one's abilities.

Taking sides, then, became a necessary decision.

The resources within the ranks were distributed layer by layer, giving everyone their share; and when needed, you must contribute your strength to the team.

Standing on the damp stage, feeling the water seeping through the imperfectly sealed stitches of his shoes and enveloping his toes, Councilman Petrit grew even more agitated.

Damn politics!

Yet his face was bright as the sun that had broken through the clouds, dazzlingly radiant.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming here. This is a brief press conference..." a number of journalists had already begun clamoring, a restless mood brewing inside him.

Suppressing the urge to smash something to pieces, he pursed his lips and continued, "Regarding the firefight incident a few days ago, after a thorough investigation by our team, there are a few things I need to clarify."

"First, not everyone on the smuggling boat was an armed militant; the militants were a minority, perhaps less than ten in total. The rest were smugglers."

"Second, two Coast Patrol Team officers died on the spot, with many more seriously injured. In contrast, the toll on those militants was near total annihilation."

"The other seven were taken to the hospital, where they died during the emergency response due to the shortage of emergency and surgical doctors."

"In other words, under different circumstances, they could have survived."

"Finally, I must admit that after the firefight ended, our officers, with intent to vent their personal grievances, killed approximately thirty-seven innocent civilians."

"I apologize on their behalf to the innocents who were needlessly killed..."

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Petrit knew at this point what he was about to face, yet he had made his preparations; it was something he had to do.

Only in this way could he show the "team" leaders that he was someone who dares to take responsibility, unafraid of accountability.

The statements he made seemed like supplements to the case investigation, but in fact, he was repudiating the previous conclusions.

Firstly, he implied the incompetence of the Coast Patrol Team and the local officers, facing less than ten armed assailants, yet eleven of them perished.

If the assailants had been numerous and heavily armed, the public might have thought that the firepower and professionalism of the assailants accounted for it and would only have sympathy for the victims.

But now, they would only think how unbelievably stupid these people were!

Secondly, he was telling the media and the public that only two people actually died in the gunfire, the others died because they were not rescued in time.

He redirected the public's dissatisfaction and hatred — whether towards illegal or even legal immigrants — onto the medical system.

In truth, Federation people had loathed the medical groups and the system for more than a day or two; it was a suitable scapegoat, and they didn't actually care much about it.

The last point was to demonize the officers being heroized by some, diminishing their appeal and sympathy in the eyes of the people.

People only sympathize with a hero's departure, not with a demon's.

In this way, he aimed to disengage people from the affair.

Nobody likes to be deceived, and those joining the crowd would feel an angry embarrassment, feeling that they had been used.

Councilman Petrit was quite aware that by saying these things, he would become the center of the storm and might have to lay low for a while.

But this was also an opportunity; if he could survive this crisis unscathed, he would be qualified to run for Mayor or enter the State Legislature.

His bold public statements that flatly denied the previous conclusions immediately sparked frenzied media coverage, and the public sentiment became even more complicated.

Two other city council members came out proactively, slamming what Petrit said as nonsense without any factual evidence, and members of the Coast Patrol Team even talked about suing him!

In fact, neither party had any real evidence to support that their statements were true, or indeed, that innocent smugglers had been slaughtered in retaliation.

A member of the Coast Patrol Team went into the cabin brandishing a submachine gun, and then other members had to follow up with shots to keep things from getting complicated by silencing potential witnesses.

As for the delays in rescue, it wasn't entirely incorrect either; if someone still breathing reached the hospital, as long as they didn't die on the scene, the on-scene responsibility was halved.

Both sides were flinging mud, slinging insults, and exposing each other's dirty laundry, perfectly illustrating the essence of Federation politics—

According to a survey by the world's mainstream media "All Wisdom," after random interviews in major civilized countries around the world, 77% of over fifty thousand respondents said they followed Federation political news.

Not because they were particularly interested in politics, but because they wanted to know how farcical and ridiculous Federation politics could be!

While some wanted to downplay the severity of the case, others were keen on escalating it.

Soon, people were split into two factions, in what was commonly known as "political brawling," one of the most participatory social activities in Federation history.

But no matter how things changed, those doomed would still be doomed.

After listening to Lance's advice, Elvin and his group were huddled together every day, and during the peak of the crisis the past two days, there were attempts to attack them.

But seeing that they were many and all young and strong males, the attackers did not succeed.

However, as the situation continued to ferment over these past few days and the Emperor made more hysterical and absurd demands, the Federation's discontent and even hostility towards the Imperial people continued to rise.

Just today, as soon as they got to the docks, the staff at the Dock Management Office told them they had to leave.

"I know you guys are good lads, but you've seen the situation by now; they may not be able to trouble you, but they will give us trouble."

"There are already people blocking the company's doors, demanding that we stop hiring you."

"And this matter isn't targeting anyone in particular; it's applicable to all those without social security numbers and work cards; they will be asked not to work on the docks, and we respect and comply with Federation law."

The dockworker responsible for assigning jobs showed a look of deep regret; they actually liked these undocumented workers quite a bit.

These workers were willing to endure hardship, willing to do anything, even diving straight into cleaning the sewers if asked.

Unlike locals who make demands here and there and ask for additional pay for "work beyond the job description."

But they had no choice but to do so now; it was clear to anyone with eyes that Golden Port City was becoming a battleground for two, or perhaps many, forces.

While the Dock Management Company had big backers, compared to the stability of their stock prices, temporarily firing some undocumented workers clearly made more sense!

The capitalists knew what was the right move.

This decisiveness also made Elvin and the others realize that they were unemployed.