Chapter 951

In the brilliantly lit hall, ladies and gentlemen raised their wine glasses, necks stretched toward the center of the crowd—Mayor Williams and beside him, Joey Diaz.

The newly appointed Admiral of Jincheng Harbor.

Today was his last day before assuming office; as per tradition, Mayor Williams had invited him to this gathering, a kind of welcome ceremony.

Jincheng’s political elite and prominent figures had gathered to show their welcome for Admiral Joey Diaz.

That’s what they mean by “military and civilians as one family.”

Of course, not everyone could come, so the people were once again represented without their knowledge.

Admiral Diaz looked to be only in his fifties, slender but full of vigor, his hair slightly streaked with gray; he wore a neat uniform, no cap.

Standing there, he gave off a completely different aura from the well-dressed gentlemen around him.

His face was full of smiles—not the faintly condescending smile Admiral Miles had worn, but a warm, genuine one.

As if this admiral were fake, and he were just an ordinary man.

Mayor Williams delivered some polished platitudes, avoiding any mention of why Admiral Miles had left, focusing only on the positive changes Diaz’s arrival would bring.

The applause and cheers kept Admiral Diaz’s smile fixed in place.

Mayor Williams turned to Diaz. “Would you like to say a few words?”

Admiral Diaz met the crowd’s gaze, paused a moment, then nodded. Instantly, the room fell silent.

He was tall, taller than most, standing rigidly straight, radiating a unique presence: “I’ve heard of Jincheng Harbor, heard of its beauty. This is my first time here.”

“I’ve already felt the warmth of your people. I will take over Miles’s work and protect all that is beautiful here!”

“Along the way, we may have points of friction. If I make mistakes, I hope you’ll show patience—and give our soldiers some patience too!”

“I hope we can become good friends. I hope you’ll be willing to be my friends.”

He smiled, then looked toward Mayor Williams—signaling he was done speaking.

Those present in this room today held at least some status in Jincheng; they’d attended many such social events and knew when a speech had ended.

Instantly, someone began clapping, then cheering—perfectly timed, as if rehearsed countless times!

Mayor Williams took two glasses from a waiter, handed one to Diaz, who smiled in thanks and held the glass.

Mayor Williams raised his glass. “To our soldiers, our heroes!”

Admiral Diaz glanced at Mayor Williams, then raised his own glass.

Everyone knew what Mayor Williams meant—but his phrasing was masterful: neither sycophantic nor offensive to party members who might see him as a fool.

It also conveyed his willingness to cooperate with Admiral Diaz, his confidence, and his stance.

After the wine was drunk, the evening opened into free mingling.

Lans stood nearby, still observing Admiral Diaz, who came over on his own.

Others saw Diaz approaching Lans and immediately halted their steps, distancing themselves, deliberately creating a “private” space for the two.

“Mr. White!” he called out Lans’s surname with certainty—proof he’d done his homework.

Lans quickly smiled. “Call me Lans.”

Admiral Diaz didn’t refuse. “You can call me Joey. That’s what my friends call me.”

“Joey.”

They clinked glasses—now they knew each other.

“I’ve heard of you. Miles mentioned you too.”

Lans raised an eyebrow. “I hope they spoke well of me.”

Admiral Diaz presented a completely different image from Admiral Miles—easygoing, laughing freely here, never feigning profundity.

“They called you a ‘miracle kid’—always solving problems others couldn’t.”

“The Defense Force, the military, Congress—you’re a man who gets things done, Lans.” His words carried hidden meaning, subtly flattering Lans.

Admiral Diaz and Admiral Miles got along well enough—not close, but not hostile either. After all, they were from the same “system.” They might compete, but that competition was far better than the rivalry between Navy and Army.

It was healthy competition. Before leaving, Admiral Miles gave Admiral Diaz one piece of advice.

Here, besides considering Mayor Williams’s stance, he must be cautious of Lans.

Admiral Miles didn’t know what role Lans played in his downfall—but it certainly wasn’t honorable.

Admiral Diaz had no immediate plan to avenge Miles. He simply found it fascinating that a gang boss could entangle himself with so many powerful figures.

He was just one step away from the Presidential Palace—he’d already netted nearly the entire federal elite. Whether he had ties to the top echelons of the three parties remained unclear.

A truly miraculous man—so miraculous that even Admiral Diaz found Lans unreal.

After a few seconds of thought, Lans answered sincerely: “It’s sincerity… Admiral Diaz.”

“I’ve won every friend with my sincerity. I believe sincerity is the most powerful weapon—if you give your heart, others will return it in kind!”

Admiral Diaz’s smile deepened. “Are we friends now?”

Lans clinked glasses again. “Aren’t we?”

After the evening’s social event ended, Admiral Diaz returned to the naval base.

Workers were clearing debris from the ground shattered by shells; the scars on the ground revealed how fierce the bombardment had been.

The base’s ground was paved entirely in concrete, with underground facilities beneath; the surface concrete was extremely thick.

Naval guns struggled to penetrate the ground at shallow angles, so only shallow craters remained.

Workers cleared out the broken concrete fragments and dust, sprinkled water, brushed lightly, then poured fresh concrete.

Damage to the main buildings would affect the ground somewhat, but not significantly.

“Are these all Lans’s people?”

As Admiral Diaz walked toward his villa, he asked.

The villa district lay in the middle-to-rear section of the naval base. Though hit by shells, the best villas had escaped direct strikes.

The Dantela United Fleet’s targets were primarily the ships docked at the port—including civilian cargo vessels.

When these large ships sank, even after repairs, the port couldn’t resume operations immediately. Salvaging them wasn’t easy and would delay the port’s recovery.

Besides some taller structures in the naval base, the residences of officers and commanders behind them were not targeted.

The aide beside him nodded. “All Lans’s people. Wanli Group’s Labor Agency is currently Jincheng’s largest labor dispatch company.”

“Low cost, fast turnaround, high quality—you won’t find anyone better here.”

Admiral Diaz nodded and entered the villa.

The villa had been thoroughly cleaned; all furniture was brand new, clearly unused.

The aide followed him in and explained: “The furniture from Admiral Miles’s time has been packed and sent to storage. They said these are all completely sealed, brand-new pieces—installed only after being opened.”

“If you dislike anything or aren’t satisfied, they can come at any time to custom-make or order furniture for you on-site.”

Admiral Diaz walked into the living room, patted the fine leather back of the sofa—he could tell it wasn’t cheap.

The entire villa was opulently decorated; someone might believe it was the meticulously renovated residence of a capitalist.

At that moment, Admiral Diaz felt a pang of realization—he finally understood what Lans meant by “sincerity,” and why Congress, especially Senator Cleveland’s small faction, had such a good relationship with him.

He understood too well!

He walked around the room, then entered the study.

The bookshelves, desk, and chair were all new.

Standing in the study, he turned and glanced at his aide, puzzled—on his pristine desk lay a box about a foot high and nearly four feet long.

The aide saw it too, confused. “There was nothing here last time!”

He reached for his holster, hand on the grip, signaled Diaz not to move, then stepped toward the desk.

On the box was a note: “To Admiral Diaz, personally. From your friend, Lans.”

Of course, he didn’t expect the admiral to open it himself—he gently nudged the box. It was heavy.

But he sensed it could be lifted, so he carefully gripped both sides and tried to raise it.

When Admiral Diaz saw what was beneath, he spoke up: “Enough. I’ll do it.”

Because of the aide’s angle, he couldn’t see what lay under the lifted box—but Admiral Diaz behind him could.

The aide opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced.

The box was opened, revealing its contents—a battleship.

More precisely, a battleship forged entirely of gold—the very one currently in service under Admiral Diaz’s command: the Freedom.

For the first time, he viewed a battleship made entirely of gold—his own flagship—from this strange perspective.

Admiral Diaz bent down, examining every detail of the golden battleship—perfectly identical to the real one!

Sailors on its deck moved as if a moment had been frozen and displayed here.

The silver base, inlaid with countless tiny blue sapphires, and the unadorned silver waves, made it seem as if the ship truly sailed the open sea!

It was pure art.

He also noticed the base’s inscriptions: twenty kilograms of gold, five kilograms of silver, over a thousand tiny blue sapphires.

At that moment, Admiral Diaz understood “sincerity” more deeply.

The more he looked, the more he loved it—he was a naval officer, and the Freedom was his flagship; the gift struck straight to his heart.

It had nothing to do with its value, nothing to do with gold, silver, or gems—only pure, simple delight.

After admiring it for a while, he asked: “Is there a display room here?”

The aide nodded. “Yes.”

He gave a slight nod. “Have someone move it in. Place it in the center. Give it proper lighting. Don’t damage it. Understood?”

The aide resealed the box and summoned someone.

Twenty-five kilograms wasn’t heavy for professional soldiers—they could carry it alone.

But lifting it and moving it without damage were two entirely different things.

Two people, lifting the base from either side, would make it much easier.

He sat on the exceptionally comfortable chair, patted the soft armrests, and looked at the brand-new study—more than satisfied.

For a moment, he considered calling Lans, but he quickly extinguished the thought.

If he called now, others might see him as an easy man to handle—he couldn’t let them think he was easily swayed, so he held off on calling Lans for now.

That night, he rested in the villa; the premium mattress let him sleep through the entire night without trouble.

The next morning, after waking, he took over the duties here; General Miles had already left, taking only his personal staff—the remaining soldiers stayed behind.

With this blow, for General Miles to rise again and reclaim his power would no longer be a simple matter.

One could say, it was difficult.

For the Navy, General Miles’s “exit” meant one more fleet slot opened up, and one more new admiral.

Not everyone in the Navy was an admiral, nor was everyone a fleet commander; losing General Miles was undoubtedly a good thing, not a bad one, for those interest groups still with room to advance.

Congress and the Lianbangzheng Prefecture would not let General Miles be easily reinstated, and internal Navy rivalries might spark a new power struggle—so for General Miles to return, he could only wait, and wait patiently.

Unless the war’s brutality caused the Lianbangzheng Prefecture to lose additional fleets, they would not consider reappointing General Miles, whose experience might bring some change.

General Miles’s core cadre had been stripped away; what remained were ordinary lower- and mid-level soldiers and officers with no direct stake in his faction.

They were also confused, but it didn’t matter much—because for men like them, upper-level struggles and ideologies were far too distant.

All they had to do was maintain absolute obedience.

Obey the new officers, obey the new base commander.

To ensure General Miles hadn’t left him a mess, he began checking the base’s finances—just a rough look at overall income and expenditures.

Detailed accounts would be audited by a dedicated team.

“This… what is this?” he asked his adjutant, pointing to one item among the major expenditures.

His adjutant hurried over, glanced, and was equally baffled—“Total Expenditure for Physical Therapy.”

“I… I’m not really sure.”

It was a large sum; General Diaz frowned. “Then find someone who knows. Given the amount, someone must know.”

Soon, the adjutant brought over a lieutenant.

“Good morning, General!” The lieutenant stood at rigid attention, more formally than ever before.

General Diaz offered only a faint smile—but it was enough. “Don’t be nervous, Lieutenant. I noticed in our base expenditures there’s an item called…”

He glanced down at the document in his hand. “Physical therapy.”

“What is this?”

The lieutenant’s expression shifted slightly; General Diaz added, “Whatever it is, it’s past history—irrelevant now. You can speak freely.”

The lieutenant’s face changed again and again. “Your Excellency, it’s… the… military….”

General Diaz immediately understood. The Lianbangzheng Prefecture had long abolished military brothels, but some things couldn’t be simply cut off.

For generals and senior officers today, if you want young men to charge out of the trenches to die, can’t you satisfy their final desires?

You can’t let a group of inexperienced boys leave this world without ever having known pleasure—wouldn’t that be too cruel?

So although the Lianbangzheng Prefecture had officially abolished them, the practice still persisted.

It had simply shifted from formal structure to informal arrangement.

General Diaz glanced again at the document recording the figure, and couldn’t help smiling as he shook his head. “Who’s in charge of this program?”

The lieutenant kept his face stiff. “Mr. Lans, Your Excellency!”

“Mr. Lans?”

The lieutenant’s expression shifted again; he forced a awkward smile. “That’s how everyone calls him.”

General Diaz didn’t press the issue of the title—he could see Lans still held some standing among these soldiers.

Last time, though he sent three soldiers straight to the front lines, his protectiveness and generosity made him popular with them.

“Are these girls locals?”

“They’re refugees, Your Excellency!”

General Diaz turned the page of the ledger. “Thank you for your cooperation, Lieutenant. I may need your help again—write down his name.”

The last sentence was addressed to his adjutant.

As long as they weren’t using Lianbangzheng Prefecture girls, and the money came from Congress, he didn’t really care.

All he wanted to know now was how much money General Miles had taken from this.

(End of Chapter)