Chapter 119: Chickens

“Three factions?” Chen Sixuan asked curiously: “I thought it was just the old Federation and the current Dawn Federation.”

“It’s more than that. The old Federation—our own Dawn Project—represents the Survivalists, who advocate preserving the human civilizational spark at any cost, while the Dawn Federation represents the Resistance, who advocate mobilizing all of humanity to study and harness dark forces, using this evolutionary power to investigate and eradicate the Star Abyss.”

“Beyond that, there’s a third faction that believes this dark force’s evolution is positive, a natural selection, a divine blessing; thus, these people began worshipping and accepting this so-called ‘divine selection,’ viewing those who survived and possessed anomalous abilities as chosen ones, the seeds of a new Blue Star civilization, and formed a fanatical organization called the [Sacred Revelation], which aggressively recruits all types of anomalous beings and investigates and contains strange taboo objects—some former members of the original Angel Project even split off to join this group…”

Investigating strange taboo objects? Lin Xian heard this and immediately thought of the eerie radio—he’d known someone was searching for and exploiting this peculiar power.

Yet this group had split into three, each pursuing entirely different paths in investigating and using this power—fascinating indeed.

Kiki frowned: “Survivalists? If the Dawn Project represents the Survivalists, why don’t they let ordinary civilians live down here? Most don’t even know about the plan—they just know how to survive. What kind of survivalists are these?”

Ding Junyi’s expression didn’t change. “From a sociological standpoint, fairness doesn’t exist in this world—it’s all about resource utilization and allocation. This isn’t a question of whether a train kills one person or ten—it’s a question of having ten thousand passengers but only room for a hundred. The Dawn Project’s goal is to build a permanent underground city to preserve the civilizational spark. But the Dawn Night arrived too suddenly; all underground city plans were hastily completed. In such a short time, it was impossible to be responsible for every citizen. To prevent chaos, leaders could only secretly conduct targeted screening.”

Lin Xian looked at her: “I’ve been curious about one thing. If the Dawn Project’s goal is to build a permanent underground city to preserve the civilizational spark and avoid the Dawn Night’s impact, and these citizens were all screened, then why install a self-destruct protocol on the energy core? Don’t tell me it’s just to guard against monsters underground!”

“Exactly!” Kiki suddenly realized, turning to Zhao Yan and Xu Wen: “You have this capability—aren’t you planning to trick us down here and blow us up?”

“This… we didn’t know about it,” Zhao Yan said, terrified, looking at Ding Junyi: “If Director Ding hadn’t mentioned it, we had no idea such a protocol existed.”

Xu Wen nodded frantically. “We’re just researchers—we wouldn’t know about something like this.”

At that moment, everyone’s gaze turned to Ding Junyi.

Ding Junyi took a breath and said calmly: “This isn’t complicated. After the Great Migration, my P3 clearance became the highest subsystem authority—it was originally a wartime backup protocol in the underground city’s management system. I found this protocol in the system of the No. 3 backup core. It’s called the ‘Cleanse Plan.’”

“Cleanse Plan?” Kiki crossed her arms, frowning. “Cleanse what?”

“I mentioned earlier that the underground city separates first-, second-, and third-class citizens into different levels. Floors 70 to 80 house third-class citizens—the most populous and largest area. Floors 40 to 60 are mainly for second-class citizens; floors 20 to 40 are for first-class citizens. The underground city has three backup cores, but only two have self-destruct protocols: one on floor 70, one on floor 40. This plan was designed to handle risks like famine or plague.”

Chen Sixuan looked confused. “Famine? How does that relate to self-destruction?”

“Of course it does…” Lin Xian’s gaze sharpened. “She means that when the underground city needs cheap labor, it exploits third- and second-class citizens from below. But when food runs short, it simply seals off the floors and triggers self-destruction, burying hundreds of thousands of people underground. Am I right?”

The air froze. Chen Sixuan and the others gasped sharply. Even Da Lou’s expression turned grim.

“What a cruel plan!” Kiki’s face twisted in fury, her teeth grinding. “These bastards deserve to be the first fed to the zombies!”

Facing their anger, Ding Junyi remained calm. “From a moral standpoint, I fully agree with and understand your emotions. If I were you, I’d feel the same.”

“But just as I said before, civilization isn’t a fair continuation. Sociologically, any species, from its birth to forming a society, sees those who control resources as the more capable and intelligent. Of course, there are exceptions—privileged fools who got lucky. But statistically, climbing higher is inherently a form of civilizational selection. So when this train of a hundred must sacrifice thirty, it will still choose according to this structure.”

“Imagine you’re a farmer. When a plague hits and food runs short, you must cull half your chickens. Will you kill the healthiest, most vibrant, smartest chickens—or the ordinary, weak, sickly ones? Or will you let the chickens vote or volunteer to sacrifice themselves?”

“What chickens…” Sha Sha, young but seemingly mature, her eyes reddening, couldn’t hold back: “But killing so many people—doesn’t that feel too cruel?”

“Huh…”

Ding Junyi exhaled slowly, breaking the silence. “Yes, from my perspective, this self-destruct protocol is brutally cruel. Humanity always demonstrates its greatest imagination in self-destruction—a trait that mirrors the politicization of science.”

Ding Junyi’s words sounded like self-mockery.

Inside the carriage, silence fell. Everyone sat still, expressions complex—anger, fear, confusion…

“Your sociological theory might make sense, but you seem to have forgotten one crucial thing…”

!

Lin Xian, who had said nothing until now, spoke slowly. His voice sounded weary.

“What?” Ding Junyi looked at him.

Lin Xian stood up, pointing outside at the darkness. “Chickens and farmers aren’t the same species. So the Dawn Project’s pathetic leaders aren’t farmers either. To the Dawn Night and the dark creatures, all humans are the chickens—but the difference is, these chickens…”

“Have guns!”

New book, seeking monthly votes, brothers—get on board and charge!

(End of Chapter)