[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-the-shadow-empire":3,"chapter-the-shadow-empire-the-shadow-empire-chapter-979":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","The Shadow Empire",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2268599,4428,"Chapter 979: Entering the City","the-shadow-empire-chapter-979",979,"\u003Cp>Thud…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thud!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His heart had never pounded so violently!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A police officer stared in disbelief at the man snatching his baton, his mind momentarily frozen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was as if a lamb about to be slaughtered suddenly opened its bloodied jaws—predator and prey had reversed roles; this was utterly unbelievable!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Both the police and the attackers were now experiencing wild, frantic pulses.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Call for backup!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before the officer could react, a curse rang out—and a fist smashed into his nose.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The brutal impact brought an instant sting and a hot rush—he instinctively dropped his baton, and the attacker swung it high before slamming it down hard onto the officer’s skull.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In that instant, he finally understood how those he’d beaten felt.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The world seemed to spin—he couldn’t stand, and instinctively bent his knees, hunched his back, and spread his arms to lower his center of gravity.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the world still spun; even without anyone touching him, he finally staggered and fell to the ground.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One blow had already disrupted his balance—recovery might take time, but clearly, these people had no intention of giving him that time.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Soon fists, shoes, and other objects rained down on him; the officer could only curl up, shielding his head.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He wanted to scream for help, but the storm of kicks left no chance to speak—and he knew it wouldn’t help anyway.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He could only try to protect himself, but it was useless—someone leapt and stomped hard on his body; he felt his ribs crack.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The searing pain made it hard to breathe, and a wave of nausea rose in him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The next second, he vomited—spitting out a mouthful of blood.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet the crowd showed no mercy; through the gap between his arms, his eyes filled with despair.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And regret.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Maybe he regretted striking others; maybe he regretted coming here today; maybe he regretted many things.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But regret couldn’t change what was coming.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Those attacking him were overwhelmed with disbelief—they looked around at the people, the police they’d once thought invincible, now lying at their feet like a weeping child.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In an instant, strength surged through their bodies—they realized they were far stronger than they’d ever imagined.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Blood boiled over; a young man charged forward and kicked the officer in the abdomen—but the officer gave no reaction; he was already unconscious.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The abusers became the only injured in this clash, while those once oppressed now became the oppressors.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their roles had been inverted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pedro helped the woman to her feet amid the chaos; seeing the crowd now completely out of control, he opened his mouth to speak—but realized this wasn’t the right moment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The woman, helped up by Pedro, thanked him profusely; Pedro shook his head. “Take care of yourself—you can’t care for your child if you’re dead.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“If you die, no one else will look after your child like you do.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“To protect him, you must protect yourself.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The woman thanked him again and again; Pedro only smiled. “I’ve got to go—I need to find food too. Take care of yourself!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He turned and walked away with his wife and child toward the city—they too needed to find food inside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After only a few steps, he stopped.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He noticed some people had quietly approached him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He tensed, pulling his wife and child behind him; this move instantly halted the group.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One man, around thirty, stepped forward. “We… want to move with you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pedro didn’t fully trust him—he kept his gaze suspicious and wary; the man had to continue. “We’re from the same place. We saw you be the first to stand up—you looked like a hero.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“And…” the man’s face flushed with awkwardness, “we can’t read. You look…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn’t finish—but Pedro understood.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His clothing made him look like an intellectual; when problems arose, people naturally turned to those with knowledge—they knew more than the illiterate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With this explanation, the dangerous expressions on their faces softened instantly; though still cautious, Pedro smiled and extended his hand. “Pedro.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Each of them shook his hand and introduced themselves.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Somehow, Pedro felt—these people were his “core group.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They began moving together toward the city; some carried women or children. The lead man, Saen, came from a village not far from Pedro’s city—only thirty or forty kilometers away.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In a major city, that distance would mean they were practically neighbors.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their proximity made Pedro feel closer to them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Life in the village is terrible—we’ve had no food for many days.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Saen’s expression was grim. “They dug up all the potatoes. Some people got poisoned, but to avoid starving, they still forced them down.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The sprouted tubers had their sprouts cut off, then the rest were boiled in water for hours.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When they turned to mush, they ate them like soup.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Prolonged high heat destroyed some solanine—but not all of it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some ate and were fine; others got poisoned—this depended directly on cooking temperature.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But villagers didn’t know this—they just boiled them instinctively, leaving fate to decide.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>According to Saen, some even mixed in grass leaves and dirt to reduce potato content and lower poisoning risk.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In short, everything edible near the village had been eaten; they were starving, so they came to Zolan hoping for luck.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everyone’s situation was the same—if they weren’t starving, who would come to Zolan?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pedro walked outside with them, keeping the women and children in the center.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As they walked, Saen asked, “Pedro, do you think we’ll find food in Zolan?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pedro fell silent. “I don’t know.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He glanced at the younger people around him—his own eyes held uncertainty. “I don’t know if the president or ministers have noticed these problems—or if they’re even thinking about solving them.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Www?ttkдn?￠o\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The best solution is to release some grain reserves—get food into people’s hands quickly, then arrest those hoarding.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Our reserves may be small, but they should be enough to get through this crisis.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“If the president and our ministers don’t mess it up.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn’t overpromise—but he conveyed a thought:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The problem can be solved—but whether it will be depends on whether someone wants to solve it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Saen and the others didn’t fully understand, but they sensed Pedro’s words held some truth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The roadblocks at the city’s edge were crushed; masses of refugees poured in. The police chief, seeing the situation spiraling beyond control, ordered officers to hold them at the perimeter while calling the presidential palace.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Diego was sipping his favorite chilled juice.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d imported a massive ice-making machine from the Federation—serving only him and a few ministers, providing ice year-round.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even in winter, Diego insisted on ice in his juice.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was overweight; every movement felt like fire inside him—only chilled juice could quench it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d just finished a glass, the fruit aroma still lingering in his mouth, when the phone rang.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn’t answer—it was his butler.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Two minutes later, the butler approached. “Master, the police chief called—refugees are entering the city.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Diego frowned. “Didn’t I order them kept outside?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“How did this fool let them in?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The butler said nothing—it wasn’t his duty. He bowed his head, silent. Diego gestured for the phone; he picked up the receiver and erupted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What the hell are you doing?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Didn’t I tell you not to let these refugees into Zolan?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They’ll ruin this beautiful city—and what will the Federation think of me?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What will the other A-Alliance nations think?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Fuck!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Fix this!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Until you’ve handled it, don’t dare report another damn thing about this!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The police chief feared Diego would hang up—he rushed to reply. “They’re too numerous, Your Excellency. Our officers are too few to control them.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“And they’ve already attacked police at the city’s edge—our small force can’t hold them.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Diego heard the subtext: “Can’t control them, short-staffed”—these were excuses. He sensed deeper intent.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What are you really saying?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The police chief lowered his voice. “I request… permission to use firearms.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The police force had guns—but they were locked in cabinets, issued only with authorization.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Most of the time, a baton was enough.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Many officers carried batons passed down for generations—like how a president’s son becomes president, and a peasant’s son remains a peasant.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A police officer’s son becomes a police officer, inheriting his father’s job—so a fine baton wasn’t just a tool, but a symbol of status.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In Lapa, there were even specialized craftsmen who made batons; with proper care, they lasted generations.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the past, a baton alone solved every problem—but this time, it won’t work.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So the police chief requested permission to shoot.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Shooting wasn’t trivial—Diego hesitated, refusing to answer immediately.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Has the situation really deteriorated this badly?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The police chief took a deep breath. “Your Excellency, over a hundred thousand people may already be entering the city, and more are rushing in from the surrounding areas. Our pressure is immense.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Zolan has only three thousand police officers. We must also protect government offices. There simply aren’t enough personnel to handle this.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They’ve already attacked the police. If we don’t arm our officers, they won’t stand a chance against these people.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When Diego heard this, his brow tightened into a deep frown. He pushed himself up from the chair’s armrests and staggered back and forth a few steps.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The butler’s expression remained grim, and the two servants in the distance looked the same.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Someone had once let out a laugh too soon—and Diego found an excuse to have them dealt with.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He hated most of all when people mocked the way he walked; he knew full well how absurd and ridiculous his swaying gait appeared—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Once, a circus director had brought in a few penguins for exhibition. Diego had never seen penguins before, so he ordered the circus invited to the presidential palace to perform just for him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The penguins appeared as the final act. The moment he saw them wobbling out of their crates, he was certain the circus director was mocking him!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So he fed the Brazilian circus director to his lions, then sent the rest of the animals to Zolan’s zoo.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He cared deeply about how others treated him, yet refused to lose weight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“How long will it take to move the army into the city?” he asked the butler.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The butler paused, then replied, “About seven to eight hours.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>La Pa’s military district was not in Zolan, but north of it—this arrangement was made to prevent the possibility that some ambitious officer might emerge within the army, leaving Diego without a countermeasure.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But now it gave him a headache. “I recall there’s a military unit stationed in the city.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The butler nodded. “Only about five hundred men. Five hundred cannot suppress this unrest.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Diego finally lifted the receiver back to his ear. “Fine. Do it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I grant you authority—but I hope you don’t let me down.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After hanging up, he dialed the military district. “Bring your men to Zolan. There’s unrest here that needs your intervention.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He set the phone down, sat back in his chair, stared blankly for a while, then poured himself another glass of chilled fruit juice.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ice cubes clinked against the golden cup, and the rich, fragrant aroma of fruit filled the entire room.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Diego still hadn’t realized this was more than just unrest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In cities farther away, those unable to reach Zolan in time, people had already begun streaming into the wilds.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When hunger ran rampant, humans became more locust-like than locusts!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>La Pa also had tropical rainforests. Over the years, people knew what was edible and what wasn’t.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Large numbers left the cities, entering the wilds, shoving anything edible into their mouths or hoarding it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fear of future starvation drove them to endlessly stockpile food—a vicious cycle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They still had food to eat now—but what if they found nothing more?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the end, their only destination would always be one place: Zolan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In their minds, once they reached Zolan, everything would improve.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The greater the hope, the greater the disappointment. When disappointment reached a certain threshold, they would deny reality.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The influx of outsiders had made the atmosphere in Zolan tense. Fewer people walked the streets; many returned home, locking doors and windows.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The hotel also called Lans. They urged him and his staff to remain inside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Outside might now be dangerous. The hotel had a security team of about a hundred people.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though a hundred men seemed useless against the current situation, they still offered some people a sense of safety.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ma Duoer walked up to Lans from afar. “All police have been deployed. I heard they’re armed now.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lans nodded noncommittally. “Don’t let these weapons crush the people’s spirit.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ma Duoer understood Lans’s meaning. He nodded and turned away to assign tasks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The police chief now left the station by car. This time, he would make a real name for himself!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He would prove his worth and importance so that the President and ministers would continue entrusting him with important responsibilities.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had long wanted to expand the police force.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zolan, as La Pa’s capital, had hundreds of thousands of people—but only three thousand police. This was clearly far too few.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For the police chief, more police meant more power—and more personal gain.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Every time he raised this issue, superiors had refused, citing “no need.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>La Pa’s people were too docile. They rarely resisted. Even gangs and troublemakers were few.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was an opportunity—a chance to impress the masters. He already had some plans.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The refugees flooding into the city had grown more aggressive since attacking the police, unlike before.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pedro had seen people along the way smashing, looting, and burning roadside shops—acting as if they’d lost their minds.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn’t quite understand—but he felt a flicker of realization.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Without guidance, these people would become “criminal elements.”\u003C\u002Fp>",2280,"2026-06-19T21:10:31.886Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","a41358cdcf6aff1c6b1c715a23ab92b8693ed6284729132d04718989949055a7","the-shadow-empire-chapter-980","the-shadow-empire-chapter-978",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-shadow-empire-cover.jpg"]