Chapter 407

Chapter 407: Entering the Arena

"Don’t look at me so surprised,"

Zhuang Mian said, meeting Aierken’s resentful gaze. Though she had grown accustomed to such stares, she continued,

"For Factory No. 12, you are an undeniable pest, but in the grand scheme of the entire factory system and Hope City, you really don’t amount to much.

"So, many will accompany you on this journey. I hope that brings you some comfort."

Having said that, Zhuang Mian turned away from Aierken, who now resembled a lifeless figure, and addressed the group of workers:

"Break time is over. Everyone, go eat and return early for the assembly. This afternoon, the Speaker and the representatives will address you."

—

Vehicles shuttled between the inner and outer city of Hope City as the Clean-up Team surged forward. Onlookers were stunned by the scene, while those with guilty consciences feared the heavy hammer might fall on their heads.

In the central area of the inner city, the city defense army, urgently deployed, had surrounded the factory’s office building.

The factories were merely the production core, while the main office handled coordination, allocation, and production planning.

With the lower factories already in disarray, it was clear that this place was no sanctuary either.

Watching the army encircle the building, Wencheng lowered his binoculars.

Black smoke began to rise from within the building; someone was burning documents.

Such an outdated tactic… Wencheng muttered to himself, then shifted his focus, knowing a strike team would soon rush in to resolve the situation.

He glanced at his wristwatch.

The time was nearly up.

Wencheng turned to his aide:

"From this moment on, command of the army is yours."

"Sir, this…?"

Wencheng had never issued such a command before, and his aide quickly grasped the gravity of the situation—this transfer was not temporary but permanent.

Thus, he hesitated to accept.

Receiving this vague reply, Wencheng no longer looked at the trapped criminals but turned to his aide, who had served him faithfully for nearly a decade, always maintaining an impeccable appearance:

"Your mind works quickly. Today’s events are far from over; the main act is about to begin."

"Then why are you transferring command…?"

"Because of that main act."

Wencheng sighed with a faint smile:

"I am not a spectator of the main act; I am an actor."

With that, he patted his aide on the shoulder and, in the cold wind, removed the insignia representing his identity, handing it over.

Then he gazed toward the distant auditorium and began to walk alone in that direction.

The cold wind carried Wencheng’s final words:

"Remember what Mr. Speaker said."

The wide and straight street ahead led directly to the open square beneath the spire.

Wencheng walked step by step, and memories began to clear in his mind.

With each step forward, everything around him seemed to rewind; tall buildings gradually vanished, and the interconnected streets transformed into a flat wilderness.

The white hair at his temples began to fade, and his slightly hunched back straightened. Although Wencheng was only halfway through his designed age, time had left many marks on him.

He was no longer the commander overseeing hundreds of thousands of people, nor was he a high-ranking councilman; he was simply an ordinary team leader of an exploration team.

Everything seemed to return to an afternoon over fifty years ago. Under sunlight that was less fierce than that of the home planet, the first awakened crew members, dressed in full protective suits, stood at the base of the spire, or rather, the spaceship, enthusiastically planning every detail of this new human home.

Haines spoke of establishing a research institute near the Sea, while Yang Suyan shared his insights on the legal structure of interstellar civilizations. Vladimir discussed topics like "battle" and "conquest"…

There were no extraordinary beasts, no alien creatures, and no internal strife. That was Wencheng’s last beautiful memory, so wonderful that he couldn’t distinguish whether it was a past event or a fantasy born from decades of turmoil and pain.

The extended eaves cut off Wencheng’s reverie about the past, and his gaze gradually lowered from the sky.

Two guards were saluting him—his face was well-known throughout the military system.

"Lord Wencheng."

"Mhm, you stay here and don’t worry about what’s happening inside."

"Yes."

The two guards felt a bit puzzled; it was already their duty, and there was no need for emphasis.

But it didn’t matter; after all, he was the General, and just having him speak was a privilege.

The two returned to their positions, while Wencheng reached for the grand door of the auditorium.

The seemingly heavy door, supported by machinery and maintained by hand, still had high sensitivity. Despite Wencheng appearing small before it, he pushed the door open with all his strength.

Sunlight streamed in from behind him, flooding the middle steps of the auditorium, and the people seated turned their heads, shielding their eyes from the sunlight as they looked back.

—

Writing the New Year’s speech was not an easy task.

The councilmen unanimously rejected several drafts submitted by their subordinates without prior communication, leading them to a basic understanding of this fact.

Such a topic was easy to discuss, but writing it required balancing two components.

One part was a vision for the future, which consisted of motivational content; the other part involved practical measures, representing their commitments to the people below as top leaders.

If the first part was too prominent, people would clearly experience "chicken soup fatigue," which manifested as an inexplicable sense of nausea.

But if the second part was too dominant, it felt as if they were reporting their plans to the clueless common folk, creating a strange sense of humiliation.

Fortunately, in the end, the councilmen cleverly crafted the speech, perfectly balancing both parts.

So when Councilwoman Sharma and Councilman Bordeaux jointly announced an increase in investment in underground pastures and farms in the new year, promising to produce more vegetables and meat at lower costs so everyone could at least eat a real meal once a month, they saw a figure that didn’t belong there.

Wencheng could have watched the speech from the audience; his seat was still vacant in the front row.

But the unspoken rule in Hope City was that one either attended such grand events or did not; otherwise, embarrassing oneself in front of so many people and the live broadcast was not a good thing.

Meeting the gazes of the councilmen, Wencheng slowly descended the steps of the auditorium and approached the front row.

In front of everyone’s attention, he loudly exclaimed:

"Mr. Speaker, I have important clues about a major case to report!"