Chapter 940: Politicians, Gangsters, the People

The professor had heard from those who had been to the battlefield that when shells flew overhead, you could hear a whistling sound like a whistle.

Some scientists called it the rapid tearing of air during the shell’s flight, causing vibrations that produced a sharp shriek.

In the past, the professor and many others had no intuitive grasp of this—they had never truly been to the battlefield and found it hard to verify whether the claim was true or false.

But at this moment, they believed it was absolutely true!

This was the tourist pier, where nearly everyone arriving in Jincheng or departing by boat from Jincheng stopped.

He watched a group of people running toward them from afar—perhaps fifty or sixty, maybe seventy or eighty, but certainly a large crowd.

Some carried suitcases, others had abandoned them, and some pulled their family members, running desperately.

But the next second, a shell landed among them—in that instant, a cool breeze carrying a metallic sweetness rushed over their faces, leaving red specks on their skin, and all those people lay motionless.

The professor felt the urge to urinate. “Quick, get inside!” he shouted, pointing to the nearby café and shoving his students toward the door.

The shriek came again, this time closer!

He dared not look back, only heard a thunderous boom, followed by a massive force slamming into him—he toppled sideways and saw a palm-sized shard pierce straight through a student’s waist and abdomen.

The shard, palm-sized, had wildly irregular edges—impossible to be regular—and it sheared away vast amounts of flesh and muscle from the student’s midsection.

The student took a few steps before collapsing to the ground, staring at the professor in disbelief, then at the organs spilling out—he couldn’t believe his life, just beginning, was ending here.

But war is like this: no why, only sorrow and pain!

Other students screamed and rushed into the building, while the female student screamed, hugging her head and crouching where she stood.

The professor’s head felt like it was on fire—he stood up again. “Get inside, now!”

He kicked the female student hard, grabbed her arm, shoved her, and forced her inside.

But the next second, the piercing shriek sounded again—clearer than before.

He stood frozen at the building’s entrance, seven or eight steps from the door, looked up at the sky—and saw a small black dot falling straight toward him.

“Motherfucking bastard…”

As a university professor, even he couldn’t help cursing inside.

The next second, the explosion erupted—shrapnel flew everywhere, shredding several people who had peeked out the windows, curious about what was happening.

Their exposed heads were sheared off by half—the entire café filled with screams and the stench of urine.

Several students crawled on the café floor, staring blankly at the outside world, for the professor was gone—completely gone.

Perhaps the last thing he left behind was a pair of glasses, not far from them—his glasses.

Even now, the students’ minds still echoed with the professor’s final words to them—

The probability of shelling Jincheng is under five percent!

Is this what they meant by five percent?

A car by the roadside was struck and exploded instantly, becoming a scythe of death that mowed down everyone on both sides of the street.

Some fragments embedded themselves in walls; within twenty to thirty meters of the car, not a single living thing remained standing.

This scene unfolded across the city—though they never explicitly claimed to be targeting civilians, retaliating for the Federation’s shelling of their port and killing their people.

But it looked as if that was exactly what they were doing.

Shells kept falling across the city, leaving no one sure where was safe or unsafe.

The city wept; the people wailed!

A gentleman dressed in quiet, refined attire strode swiftly toward a room at the end of the corridor.

He moved quickly, yet did not run—only maintained a rapid, steady pace forward.

The quiet corridor echoed only with the sound of his heels striking the floor.

No iron heels—the poor had to nail iron plates onto their shoe soles to protect worn-out heels and other vulnerable spots.

But for the wealthy, if shoes wore out, they simply bought new ones.

They never nailed iron heels on—they clattered too loudly, impolite, lacking refinement.

In Shiji seconds—or perhaps longer—he reached the corridor’s end and opened the door.

Inside was a small lounge-like room, filled with sofas and chairs arranged around a central point.

There were a dozen gentlemen, some seated, some standing—they had clearly been chatting before the door opened.

Some hands hung midair, others held wine glasses—they seemed frozen the instant the door opened, all eyes turning to the man entering.

Mr. Cleveland, who had been speaking, fell silent.

The man from outside lowered his head slightly. “Jincheng has been shelled.”

The gentlemen’s expressions shifted slightly—not worsened, but subtly altered.

After the messenger left and the door closed, their faces finally broke into restrained smiles.

Though they had suspected it would happen within days, as long as no shots were fired, they remained anxious.

It was like waiting—for the moment the other side struck, so they could claim legitimate defense, and then overreact with perfect justification.

As long as Dantela didn’t act, the Federation wouldn’t fully mobilize. But they had not disappointed the gentlemen in this room—they had executed a crucial strike.

The Senate President lit a cigarette, drew a deep breath, and his entire body relaxed against the sofa as he exhaled.

After exhaling the smoke, he chuckled twice. “Where were we?”

Senator Cleveland replied, “About raising interest rates.”

The Senate President nodded. “Yes, I remember—interest rates.”

“We’ve spoken with the banks—rates can be raised anytime, but there are problems.”

The Senate President glanced at the ashtray on the coffee table, flicked ash from his cigarette. “We can attract international wealth and capital, but we may also reduce currency circulation within the domestic market.”

He looked up at the others. “If bank deposit rates are too high, people will prefer to hoard money rather than spend it.”

“This has the opposite effect on the domestic market economy.”

“We need measures to stimulate consumption.”

Another senator said, “Distribute consumption vouchers.”

All eyes turned to him. “Consumption vouchers, no matter the denomination, can only offset one-third.”

“Meaning, if we give them thirty dollars in vouchers, they must spend a hundred to use them fully.”

“As for the vouchers’ funding, part comes from capital subsidies, and part we can take by further raising the base tax rate, then refunding a portion to the people as tax rebates.”

With an annual income of six hundred dollars, under the Federation’s current progressive tax system, an average person pays about two hundred dollars in taxes.

But if they buy national bonds, their tax rate is adjusted downward based on purchase volume—down to about one hundred seventy or eighty dollars.

“Once we attract more international capital, we won’t rely on ordinary citizens to fund the war, and we can stabilize domestic inflation.”

“There’s a lot of money globally with nowhere to go—choosing us is one of their few reliable options.”

“We can impose dual standards on international capital inflows—money can enter, but must be used to purchase national bonds in proportion.”

“We can adjust interest rates accordingly…”

Since they had decided to play a big game, they naturally considered everything comprehensively.

Once the international community realizes that depositing money in the Federation’s banks is not only safe but also yields higher interest, capital will flood in quickly.

Massive capital inflows will trigger a cascade of social changes—these wealthy individuals may spend here, buy real estate and goods, even open factories and establish companies.

That will require hiring more workers, creating vast new job opportunities and greatly stabilizing society.

They focused intently on these discussions, as if they truly cared about the people’s interests—but it didn’t quite seem genuine.

If they truly cared, they could have prevented all this tragedy—but they didn’t stop it. They let it happen.

To them, the people of Jincheng, the civilians killed in the shelling, their deaths were meaningful—not wasted. This was the honor of ordinary people!

Because the Federation government would use their deaths to usher in a new era—they died for a purpose!

No one would ask the corpses whether they agreed, nor could they voice their opinions.

The shelling didn’t last long—the entire battle lasted only fifty-five minutes. Around two in the afternoon, the Dantela Navy withdrew entirely from Federation waters and vanished.

When the shelling stopped, those who had cowered in hiding slowly emerged from their homes, staring blankly around them.

It still looked like their familiar neighborhood—but somehow, not quite.

Occasional collapsed houses, neighbors struggling in rubble, children standing dazed by the roadside, covered in blood.

The entire city seemed drowned in grief.

The President immediately announced to the world that the Federation government would mobilize again, escalating the war.

President said this was an “inhuman” attack—Dantela’s fleet deliberately targeted civilian residential areas, causing massive building collapses and civilian deaths.

Dantela’s actions had enraged the peace-loving Federation government and people—the President declared that from this moment, the Federation entered a state of red war, and would declare full war against Dantela!

At the same time, Defense Department officials pointed out that Yalan Region may have played a dishonorable role, failing to report Dantela’s fleet movements to the Federation government, leading to the tragedy.

If Yalan’s regime had detected Dantela’s fleet earlier and relayed the information, this catastrophe would not have occurred.

The Defense Department and military decided to station troops in Yalan Region to serve as the first line of defense against future Dantela fleet invasions.

What about the people of Yalan—do they agree?

Do they dare disagree?

At four in the afternoon, Congress released a statement: after emergency consultations, the Federation’s benchmark interest rate would rise by 2.5 percentage points; savings interest rates at major banks would rise to between 6.3% and 7.8%.

All banks would open international account registration, account opening, and cash services.

Of course, many details remained unannounced—only those willing to transfer funds to the Federation would learn them.

For example, large deposits required purchasing national bonds; some even needed to invest in the Federation to qualify.

A maximum annual interest rate of 7.8% in this turbulent wartime was an astonishing return!

Even if they had to buy Federation bonds—even if bond yields were modest—it was still a safe place to weather the storm.

The moment the news broke, the global financial circle trembled—capital began flooding into the Federation.

Meanwhile, the Federation’s recovering market also attracted investors—perhaps their money wouldn’t just survive safely here, but could even grow steadily.

Subsequently, reports emerged that the Dantela Republic’s combined fleet was advancing toward the Federation’s and Slade’s primary shipping routes.

The Slade Military Alliance is now on edge; if these routes are threatened, supplies from the Federation may arrive late and prices will rise.

The Slade ambassador to the Federation immediately requested an audience with the Secretary of State to discuss establishing new shipping lanes and joint protection measures.

It is still unknown how the talks are going or what the outcome will be.

However, rumors suggest that during the first meeting, the Secretary of State stated the Federation government currently has no capacity to ensure route security.

The Second Fleet must guard the Federation’s waters in the East Ocean, ensuring the safety of New Gold City, Jinzhou, and the entire coastline—they have no additional forces available for support.

In fact, there are deeper issues: the Federation government seeks greater initiative and higher status within the Slade Military Alliance, but progress in negotiations has been difficult.

These nations refuse to let the Federation dictate to them; even though the Federation has played a crucial role on the battlefield, they believe they should be equals, not subordinates—this has thwarted several Federation plans.

Thus, this “attack” indirectly forces them to realize they need the Federation more than the Federation needs them!

The Secretary of State gave them a six-month deadline: they must protect the routes themselves for half a year; only after two mixed fleets are launched will the Federation consider providing support.

But these matters are too distant for ordinary people—they can only focus on what is happening around them, not the future.

Lans returned to Jincheng City with his men the day after the shelling.

The Jincheng Pier and Xingang Pier had largely ceased operations, but the damage was not severe.

The underwater structures of both piers were intact; as long as no internal structural damage occurred, rebuilding the above-water sections and clearing sunken ships would allow quick resumption of operations.

The naval base suffered heavier shelling—most shells were dumped onto the naval base.

Upon returning to Jincheng City, Lans immediately organized Lans Family members for disaster relief; the Lans Family also suffered losses—about twenty unlucky members had their hiding places directly hit by shells.

The houses collapsed, burying many people alive.

Under this scale of shelling, the long-claimed, long-desired, yet never-achieved state of true equality was finally realized.

The once-bustling city now lay shrouded in a layer of “dust.”

Everything was in ruins, but fortunately the shelling lasted only forty minutes; otherwise, it was uncertain whether Jincheng City would have been completely destroyed.

The colorful neon lights that once flickered above the city were now replaced by flashing police lights, fire alarms, and ambulance lights.

As Lans Family members began clearing the streets, some fortunate survivors were rescued, but others remained forever buried in the rubble.

Falling debris turned them into ragged sacks—limp, boneless, entirely soft.

Even those accustomed to seeing dead bodies felt psychological discomfort upon seeing these corpses.

Corpses were casually piled along the roadside; for the first time, the Federation’s people truly felt the pain brought by war.

And… hatred!

Photos of the Jincheng City shelling were instantly disseminated across the Federation; the Federation’s citizens, witnessing such horror for the first time, erupted in unprecedented fury!

They took to the streets holding signs reading “Blood for Blood,” demanding the Federation government increase its war efforts and demanding the Dantelans pay for everything they had done!

(End of Chapter)