Chapter 776.1: Extravagant Rewards

After the Chalas administration fell, the residents of North Island had braced themselves for a harsh winter. To their surprise, however, the days ahead were nowhere near as bad as they had imagined. In fact, things gradually began to improve.

There was no need to worry about the Southern Sea New Alliance's navy. They had been on the same side to begin with, so naturally they had no intention of making life difficult for the island's residents. The New Alliance's troops, meanwhile, possessed a level of discipline rarely seen in the wasteland. Not only did they refrain from interfering with the locals' lives, they even lifted the curfew and wartime rationing system imposed under Chalas.

On the streets near the harbor district, people who had hidden in their homes for days finally exhausted their food stores. Driven by hunger, they gradually began venturing back outside. Although the postwar order had been announced over radio broadcasts several days earlier, not everyone believed what they heard. Some simply assumed that the rebels had seized the radio stations.

Information warfare was standard practice during wartime, and the Chalas administration had enforced an extremely strict curfew. As a result, most people had been living inside information bubbles. Forget leaving their homes. They had not even dared open their windows to peek outside.

The new authorities had told them the war was over, but they could hardly break down everyone's doors and drag them outside by force.

From the standpoint of implementation costs, that obviously wasn't worthwhile. Besides, with so much else to be done, they simply didn't have the manpower to look after those who were still living in the past. Chalas' government had fallen, and a new order had already been established. Those still clinging to the past would come to terms with reality sooner or later.

And so, as the last group of people finally returned to normal life, they cautiously stepped onto the streets. When they saw that the supermarkets had actually reopened, nearly every one of them stared in disbelief.

"Well, I'll be damned. The supermarket's open again?" A gaunt middle-aged man muttered under his breath. Suddenly remembering something, he hurried back home. Ignoring the bewildered looks of his wife and children, he rummaged through drawers and cabinets, pulled out a thick stack of banknotes, stuffed them into his pockets, grabbed the plastic bags he used for scavenging, and rushed toward the supermarket.

Ever since the Chalas administration introduced wartime rationing, the money circulating throughout the North Island Federation had become little more than useless scraps of paper that couldn't buy anything. Unable to restock their shelves, supermarkets had closed one after another. Now that he saw one open again, he immediately brought out all his savings, desperate to exchange every last bill for baby formula, bread, and canned food before everyone else bought them out.

Yet the moment he charged through the supermarket doors and saw the shelves packed with an astonishing variety of goods, he froze on the spot as if he were hallucinating.

The people waiting in line noticed him, but after a glance, no one said anything. People like him had been showing up all the time these past few days. Everyone had lived through those difficult times. No one had the heart to laugh at him.

He gulped greedily as he hurried over to the shelves. Staring at the single-digit price tags, he held his breath, his heart pounding violently. Without even looking closely at what he was grabbing, he swept a pile of goods into his plastic bags, then hurried over to join the line. When he finally reached the checkout counter, he pulled a fistful of banknotes from his pocket and dropped them onto the counter.

Seeing the crumpled bills, the cashier sighed as if he had seen it a thousand times. Pointing at the sign on the counter, he said, "... You’re using money from the old Archipelago Federation. Look carefully at the price tags on the shelves. We only accept Silver here."

"Silver?" The man froze. His face gradually flushed red, and after stammering for quite some time, he finally managed to say, "But I don't have any Silver... What am I supposed to do?"

The cashier patiently explained, "Then find yourself a job. There's a Home of Refugees relief station at the harbor. Fill out a job application there and you'll be able to collect relief rations. Once they've arranged work for you, someone will notify you. Some of the larger employers also advance half a month's or a full month's wages, and some will even help you apply for subsidized living-expense loans. You can ask around. The Home of Refugees arranged this job for me too."

The man hurriedly thanked him, then rushed out of the supermarket. He had worked in import-export trade before. Maybe he could find a job at the harbor or with the Baiyue Strait Development Company... something that would at least let him support his family!

...

With the wartime rationing system abolished, goods that had once been impossible to find began reappearing on supermarket shelves: iron pots, kitchen knives, bread, grain, and all sorts of other necessities. Of course, those supplies hadn't simply grown out of the shelves themselves. Some were produced in Sunset Province, some were processed in Silvermoon Bay, and others came from Port Gallon.

After the goods were produced in their respective regions they were first transported to French Fry Harbor and loaded onto ships. From there, they were distributed to the resource-starved archipelago, where they were placed on shelves and sold at prices denominated in Silver.

Meanwhile, the Home of Refugees had established relief stations across North Island. Besides distributing relief rations, the stations registered unemployed residents' professional skills and educational backgrounds, introduced them to prospective employers, and reduced the amount of time they had to spend waiting for work.

The ocean-current power station needed rebuilding, as did North Island's infrastructure. There was no shortage of places that needed workers. For technically intensive positions in particular, there were more vacancies than qualified people to fill them. The only fly in the ointment for the locals was that the currency issued by the former federal government had gone from being worthless in name to being worthless in the most literal sense.

Granted, from the moment the North Island Federation could no longer contain runaway inflation and announced the implementation of rationing, the currency had already lost most of its monetary functions. Still, it had retained at least a tiny bit of purchasing power. Now, with their federal government gone, it had lost even its legally recognized purchasing power. The paper was so rough that it wasn't even fit for wiping ass.

The Southern Sea New Alliance was already planning to issue a new local currency to ensure the economy could function normally. For the time being, however, the settlements throughout the southern seas remained heavily dependent on resource inputs from the New Alliance, while the new government itself was operating on loans from the New Alliance Bank. Consequently, everything from public spending to material procurement was temporarily being settled in Silver.

...

At that moment, at North Island's military harbor, a construction team from French Fry Harbor was repairing damaged facilities, particularly the gantry cranes and automated cargo-handling equipment installed along the docks.

Not far away, two large cargo ships packed to the brim with supplies, were still moored at the wharf, waiting to unload.

Standing at the edge of the harbor, Channing narrowed his eyes as he gazed across the war-ravaged port. He turned to Li Minghui beside him and asked casually, "... This is what happens when soldiers meddle in politics. The greater their ability to execute orders, the greater their capacity for destruction. We absolutely cannot follow the North Island Federation down the same road. Don't you agree, Mr. Li Minghui?"

Two weeks had passed since the end of the civil war, and mid-October had rolled about. During that time, Li Minghui had traveled to Dawn City, where he met with the administrator of the New Alliance in his capacity as wartime president of the Southern Sea New Alliance. According to reports, their talks lasted a full three days.

The meeting had attracted intense attention not only from outsiders, but also from the Southern Sea New Alliance's own council.

Like the New Alliance, the Southern Sea New Alliance maintained separate systems for local and central affairs. As Ring Island's highest-ranking local official, Channing neither intended nor had any right to involve himself in power struggles at the Southern Sea New Alliance's central government. Yet there was one matter on which he had no choice but to speak on behalf of Ring Island's residents.

Drawing closer to the New Alliance did not run contrary to the interests of the survivors of the southern seas. But if their general became another Chalas in the process, then every sacrifice they had made would have been for nothing.

Hearing the probing note in Channing's voice, Li Minghui suddenly burst out laughing. "What a coincidence. I think exactly the same thing. It's better to leave specialized work to the professionals. Someone like me is much better suited to scheming against people on the battlefield." After a pause, he continued, "Once the war against the Torch Church is over, I'll resign as wartime president and return all authority to the council that represents every survivor in the southern seas... That power belonged to them in the first place. No one understands better than they do what path they should take in the future."

Seeing the astonishment on Channing's face, Li Minghui smiled faintly. "Don't look so surprised. I'm only resigning as wartime president and relinquishing command of the armed forces. I never said I was retiring completely. Hahaha. If you don't think too poorly of my command abilities, I'll continue serving as commander of the navy."

In truth, before his conversation with Captain Wick, he had hesitated more than once. But after witnessing the man's madness firsthand, the last embers of ambition in his heart had finally been extinguished.

Chalas hadn't always been like that. Neither had Wick... Once, both of them had been deeply passionate about the future of the survivors in the southern seas. No one had wanted more than they did for the people here to live better lives and truly bring an end to the wasteland in these waters. Yet once a mad idea took root, it became impossible to stop.

To overthrow the rule of Shelter 70, they had ordered the fleet to selectively turn a blind eye, allowing the Torch Church to enter the fray. Then they began fabricating lies to drag along those who were skeptical, uncertain, or simply following the crowd.

As the stakes on the gambling table grew higher and higher, they strayed farther and farther down the wrong path, until every last one of them had turned into a monster.

By the final stages of their madness, they would sooner burn to ashes everything the survivors of the southern seas had built over two centuries than admit they had been wrong.

The madmen and those who had indulged them had all gone to hell. Now the button that could end that cycle was in his hands. All he had to do was press it, and he could become a hero. There could hardly be a better choice.

Just as the gentleman in Dawn City had told him, indulging one's selfish desires might bring satisfaction for a moment, but only by accomplishing something worthy of being remembered forever could a person truly become immortal.

Looking at the composed Li Minghui, Channing's astonishment gave way to profound respect, and he inclined his head slightly. "... The survivors of Ring Island will be grateful for your decision. I believe the survivors across the islands of the southern seas will feel the same."

Looking out over the bustling harbor, Li Minghui smiled with easygoing amusement. "Hahaha, you're too polite! That's what I ought to do in the first place!"

...

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