–Each scattered Moxel can stabilize, at most, a few dozen square spans of land. Do you have any idea what that means?–
Beside the table, another imposing figure nodded in agreement.
–Precisely so, which is why this meeting has been convened. Head of the Jiazi TermCargo Crew, am I correct?–
The crowd’s gaze shifted between Yang Zicang and the heads of several large sheds. These Penglords from the mid-sized and smaller Peng Zones—or their representatives at the meeting—stared in shock at the few seated by the wooden table.
On the edge, a gaunt, square-faced man raised his hand and said:
–I used to be a geography teacher. I should remind you all that a radius of thirty to forty li is only its approximate surface area. The slopes on the incline, even the caves inside—their actual spread would be far larger, like crumpling a piece of paper…–
He paused, as though terrified by the numbers that had just popped into his head, then hesitated, speaking with visible concern:
–Given such an expanse, the scattered Moxel required… would be astronomical by your standards.–
Another voice, trembling with suppressed fury, cut him short: –I’ve estimated, even at the lowest count of forty square spans… You know what that means? Each and every scattered Moxel—do you grasp what they cost!–
Someone angrily fixed their gaze on Yuan Long and interrupted:
–Do you know what that implies! Do you realize what each single scattered Moxel truly signifies!–
–Don’t lose your temper.–
Two men in the crowd pulled him aside. Another spoke up:
–But he does have a point. Though thirty or forty ping is just the minimum stable area for each Moxel—with higher-grade ones securing a larger zone—those mountains are still far beyond what we can sustain.–
–We don’t have to stabilize everything; we could secure two or three mountains and the valuable zones within them.–
–Is that why we pooled resources to establish a shared Peng Zone?–
A Penglord raised a hand to gesture for calm, then spoke in a low, steady voice:
–Actually, if we use triangle-type Moxels, each can stabilize an area of several hundred ping. Let’s first calculate how many Moxels of Oblivion each Peng Zone can contribute. I’ll start: I can offer seven thousand—that’s all my zone has.–
Members from some of the smaller Peng Zones froze on the spot.
Seven thousand, just like that—meaning seven thousand individuals had once existed. It was a number they dared not imagine and found deeply sorrowful.
–Don’t be surprised. Half of them came from scavenging outside—each dome has several thousand residents, and one token each could add up to a colossal amount. The rest were acquired through trade, but in truth, several hundred Moxels of Oblivion came from natural deaths.–
–In reality, if human bones had accumulated throughout history, they would have been enough to rebuild a planet by now. Moxel is the accumulation of many years—layered down so deeply that it only seems plentiful to you. At our Peng Zone, at its peak, the quantity was far greater than this.–
–You… you people…–
A man at the wooden table turned his head to look toward the startled and furious person from the small Peng Zone behind him, then laughed as if in self-mockery:
–Our Peng Zone isn’t much different. If everyone really wants to go through with this plan, we could contribute even more.–
–My god, I feel like I’m in hell.–
–Pretty much. A world where everyone lives a hundred years is bound to have crueler rules.–
The crowd fell silent, a chill creeping into their bones.
Yang ZiCang sighed faintly. There was no room for him to intervene in this scene, nor did he wish to speak up.
The people’s gazes shifted among several big Penglords. One of them said:
–But even that’s not enough. Even if everyone here… even if we all contributed, it still wouldn’t be enough—nowhere near enough.–
The crowd murmured amongst themselves, but the few big Penglords at the table knew that Yuan Long was the one who had proposed the idea.
They turned their eyes toward Yuan Long.
Yuan Long’s gaze fell upon the clear sky visible outside the dim room.
–No rush. There are still six months left.–
–Six months?–
Some people took a moment to think, then shuddered. They stared at Yuan Long—was this Penglord of the Lijiang Great Canopy actually considering such an idea!
–Enough funds can be raised in just half a year?–
That geography teacher said indignantly:
–Do you realize that your proposal is akin to paving the ground with bones, inch by inch, just to preserve the so-called beautiful forest you speak of!–
–I know.–
Faced with such a calm response, this man was momentarily at a loss for words. Another person chimed in:
–So what do you intend to do? Raising millions worth of Lost Moxel in half a year? That’s sheer fantasy!–
Yang Zihsang, seated by the table, pondered this for a moment and found it all too idealistic—utterly unrealistic, an impossibility to pull off.
Meanwhile, the few Great Penglords at the table were either rubbing their chins or mumbling as if calculating something. Yang Zihsang listened closely and overheard two Penglords murmuring about how many square miles of Lost Moxel five thousand people could collect in a week, or how many Moxel crystals three thousand people could scavenge after winter, and the like.
Yang Zihsang’s heart tightened slightly. Are there even that many Lost Moxel for you to scavenge?
Yuan Long tapped the table with his finger lightly.
–By next spring, we should be able to raise a lot of Moxel crystals. Remember, it’s summer now, and our nights already get rather cold. Once winter comes…–
–In a medium-sized Peng Zone… there might be several thousand…–
–The biting cold of winter—many people can’t withstand it. You… you’re planning that kind of move?!–
Around three wooden tables, the seated heads of the Peng Zones remained silent. Behind them, the people from small and medium Peng Zones, sitting on two or three circles of stools, turned pale, and those standing further back immediately erupted into uproar.
–You bastard!–
–Which Peng Zone’s asshole said something like that?–
–He’s the Penglord of the Lijiang Big Tent.–
The clamor from the crowd nearly lifted the roof off.
–Enough!– Yuan Kun slammed the table with a bang and stood up. He had not taken part in the discussion earlier and only learned about this meeting’s plan at that moment. Though shocked in his heart, he quickly grasped Yuan Long’s strategy.
Yuan Kun took a deep breath, sweeping his gaze fiercely over those around him.
Some averted their eyes, refusing to meet his stare, while others glared at him angrily, as if eager to turn their fury onto him.
–And which Peng Zone are you from?–
–I…– Yuan Kun glanced at Wang Xin, who was staring back with a grim face, then turned and said:
–You carry on with this fuss—will that stop winter from coming? Will it stop those snows from falling? How many of you have survived a winter here, huh? Do you even know what winter is like here? Step outside, and you’ll be hit with a chill that drains your lifespan all bets are off!–
–Ha, so what, we just freeze to death, and then you go stabilize these damn mountains or whatever?–
–Yes!– Yuan Kun shouted back to that person.
The speaker’s eyes flew wide in fury as he raised his finger, pointing at him, yet he was so incensed the words stuck in his throat. After all, what the opponent had said was nothing but the truth, and no matter how furious he was, that cold, hard reality was unavoidable.
–Ha, so once people freeze to death, you lot will use their lost-frequency Moxel to stabilize this forest of yours? Ha, hah, what a tragedy, what a laughable humanity.–
The person in charge of the Wuyou Trade zone spoke up:
–But with this forest, at least we can spare many lives next winter.–
Those words hung in the air, and within the room, the haunting drone of the nightmare exhaust fan slowly grew sharper.
Thin wisps of chilling wind stirred the air, loosening the otherwise oppressive heaviness and making it easier to breathe.
The tiny ball of light drifted slowly across the ceiling.
–Well then,– Yang ZiCang said softly, –today’s topic is under the authority of the big tent in Lijiang, Yuan LongPeng Lord. If anyone here wishes to participate in this Peng Zone, please stay. The rest of you are dismissed.–
As he said it, he felt as though white-hot flames licked his skin — an overwhelming urge to flee this place immediately.
–Wait, Squad Leader of Jiazi Term Cargo Crew.– Wang Xin, sitting at the edge of the table, suddenly spoke. Fixing her gaze on Yang ZiCang, she raised one hand in Yuan Kun’s direction and asked, –May I ask—do you know this man?–
Yang ZiCang gave a slight nod.
–Of course, Captain Yuan Kun of your Peng Zone who primarily trades with the Kongshan Greenhouse is the first person I got to know when I started doing business here. He’s a wonderful man—when he first arrived, he even helped the Kongshan Greenhouse order limited-edition incense pellets, as someone from the Huanghun Greenhouse.–
Wang Xin took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling.
Countless merchants had recently flocked here to trade, yet few were remembered by name by Yang Zicang. Some in the room cast envious glances at Yuan Kun.
She gave a cold laugh, turning her head to look at the burly man shifting awkwardly as he sat down.
–Friend, don’t you have something to say?–
Beside Yuan Kun, within Chang Ao’s sensory projection, Penglord of the Kongshan Greenhouse asked suspiciously:
｛Master Zhang, did you know about this beforehand? Has Captain Yuan stirred up some trouble over there?｝
[No, not at all, Penglord. I only just found out myself—it seems our client’s crew captain’s people have always taken our crew captain as one of their own from Huanghun Greenhouse. I don’t know the details.]
On the sensory projection screen opposite, Penglord’s face instantly turned cold.
Fine beads of sweat broke out on Yuan Kun’s forehead, as if he were once again trapped in the spiritual illusion emanating from Captain Jia’s mighty figure.
–Well…Captain Jia, I…–
Suddenly, the small orb of light fluttered down.
｛Your reputation is on the rise.｝
–I…–
The small spirit leaned in closer, staring into his wide-open eyes.
{Go on~ say it, you’ll be famous for the whole week.}
The gazes of everyone in the room, even the onlookers gathered outside the door, all fell upon this burly, muscular man standing by the table, his hands resting on the wooden surface. Despite possessing the physique of a sports student, he now looked like an elementary school kid who had done something wrong.
–I!– Yuan Kun’s face flushed bright red, his trembling eyes darting toward the tiny hand of the spirit floating before him.
The pen in her grasp, no thicker than a leg hair, rested atop a crumpled white paper, as if awaiting his testimony. Those tiny, tiny eyes radiated encouragement from the little creature.
The crowd around him pressed in, almost unwittingly.
–You what?– Chang Ao tilted his head, lifting his chin. –Just say it. Penglord and everyone is waiting.–
Gulp. Yuan Kun swallowed hard. He took a deep breath and shut his eyes, as if about to confess something unbearably shameful, then uttered word by word:
–Sorry… I’m one of Kongshan Dapeng’s men.–
A zigzag flashed through the air, and a familiar voice emerged within it:
{You… aren’t anymore.}
Yuan Kun went –Huh?– in his heart.
Shush-shush, the little spirit wrote it down in a flurry.
The surrounding crowd stared speechlessly, they had waited all this time only to hear such a baffling remark and couldn’t help but click their tongues in disdain.
Wang Xin looked at Yang Zicang, whose face twitched slightly, and said apologetically:
–I’m sorry. Earlier, I heard some rumors that when the market first opened, our Dusk Greenhouse was collecting protection fees from the big client Cargo Crew here. I thought it was just baseless gossip at the time.–
She raised her finger like a sword, pointing straight at Yuan Kun.
–Who knew that it would be today that I discovered perhaps it wasn’t just a rumor after all. Regardless of your intentions, I, Wang Xin, declare here and now — it was someone from the Kongshan Greenhouse impersonating us!–
–Huh? What is this all about?– The crowd’s gazes instantly refocused on Yuan Kun’s face.
–Something like that actually happened?–
The room buzzed with murmurs.
–Is he the legendary guy who got beaten up alongside some pipa players?–
–So the Kongshan Greenhouse was impersonating the Dusk Greenhouse to collect protection fees?–
Yuan Kun remained silent in grief, feeling as if countless ants were crawling all over him.
The spirit inside the small light orb stood up shakily, looking satisfied.
{Congratulations, your reputation has reached 10.}
「……」
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