Chapter 980: The Sound of Guns in the City

By the roadside, several young people were looting items from a shabby shop.

The shopkeeper lay beaten on the ground, wanting to stop them but daring not to reach out, only crawling and pleading for them to stop taking more.

His pleas had no effect; instead, passersby kept joining in.

Pedro stood by the roadside for less than a minute before three or four groups arrived.

They rushed in, stuffing everything they could carry into their personal grain sacks, then quickly left.

No one cared about the shopkeeper lying on the ground, his face covered in blood, nor did anyone heed his cries.

His pleas at that moment were not a stop sign halting the chaos, but rather the devil’s whisper urging people to act faster!

The evil deep within human hearts was fully unleashed at that moment.

“Let’s go,” he shook his head and kept walking; Saen and the others followed closely behind him.

Saen took two steps forward, “Do you want to help?”

“If you want to do something, we can help.”

They were not few in number, and the people causing chaos around them had not targeted them, so Saen spoke with confidence.

Pedro shook his head, “We can help one person, we can help two, but we cannot help everyone.”

The current situation is in the “chaos” phase, just as Lans described in those cases—

The working class won through strikes and demonstrations, then some began abusing that power.

They would strike at the slightest provocation, trying to force capitalists to compromise, but in the end, the capitalists simply hired new workers.

“When people discover they possess power beyond their imagination, their first thought is not to restrain themselves, but to indulge, to give in to desire.”

“The Labor Union was not built during chaos, but after it.”

“Chaos brings absolute destruction—not just to others, but to oneself.”

Pedro firmly remembered these words; the clearer he recalled them, the more he felt everything happening here was a miniature reflection of Lans’s stories.

They entered the city through violence and believed violence was the key to success, yet they did not understand that their current violence meant nothing against the ruling class’s suppression.

Well-educated Pedro knew clearly that a regime’s stability was never due to benevolence, but to the armies loyal to the ruling elite.

These people were merely ordinary folk—they could never stand against the army; their fate seemed already foreseen.

“Do you believe me?”

Pedro asked.

Saen nodded with a smile, “At least you’re smarter than we are.”

He didn’t say he believed or didn’t believe, but his attitude was clear—Pedro felt the unspoken meaning behind those words.

Whether they believed him depended on what he would do next.

Pedro stopped walking, watching the unrest continue to spread as more people flooded into the city and joined the looting, arson, and vandalism; he now had a clearer vision.

This “protest” would fail.

“It’s too chaotic,” he looked around, his gaze settling on Saen, “Random looting and burning achieves nothing but chaos.”

At that moment, he felt that if he were the ruler and learned of these people’s actions, he wouldn’t be worried.

Without purpose, without unity, these people posed no real threat to the regime.

He shook his head, “Look at the locals, the shopkeepers who were robbed—what do you see in their expressions, their eyes?”

After observing, Saen and the others said one word: “Hatred!”

“Yes, hatred,” Pedro repeated the word again, “They hate these people; the ruling class hates them. From the start, they severed themselves from the common people.”

“We were the victims—we came here seeking help, seeking food to survive our hardship.”

“But look at what they’ve done—they didn’t come to tell the government what we need; they came only to destroy!”

“And this will only lead them to failure.”

“They don’t know their purpose here, they don’t know how to voice their demands—they’re a scattered mass, no wind needed, they’ll fall apart on their own.”

Pedro looked at Saen, “We need more people—more who can be controlled, who will obey.”

“Not these people. We need those who follow order, who listen.”

“We must unite. Only by uniting can we possibly obtain what we want.”

“I heard a phrase that deeply inspired and shocked me—I’ll pass it on to you today.”

“The power of unity is like steel—even harder than steel!”

“It is the strongest weapon on earth, capable of shattering all injustice!”

His eyes gleamed, making Saen feel slightly dazzled, yet he didn’t mind—he wanted to draw near that light.

As if only by approaching that light, he could be illuminated, warmed by it.

“I have a feeling the days ahead will grow worse.”

“Not just around us, but all of Lapa lacks food—if some take advantage by hoarding grain to sell at inflated prices—”

“People will find it impossible to survive.”

“What happens when people can’t survive?” he asked Saen and those around him.

They looked at each other, offering no conclusion.

Pedro whispered, “When people can’t survive, they fight desperately.”

“If you’re going to die anyway, why not fight?”

Saen didn’t understand what Pedro meant—was he hinting at something?

But Saen wisely said nothing; he simply followed Pedro’s words.

That was fine—like an arm shouldn’t compete with the brain for control of the body; doing what isn’t yours to do only makes an already messy situation worse.

Saen saw something in Pedro others didn’t—he felt… he couldn’t describe it, but Pedro had a kind of “leader’s presence.”

He was the first to step forward from the crowd, the first to face the police, the first to resist the terrible conditions of life!

He was a hero—a true hero.

And a leader—a charismatic leader.

He believed Pedro would lead them to where they wanted to go—whether to fill their stomachs or something else.

“There are still some people from our hometown who came here—I’ll see if I can find them…”

Saen paused, his voice trembling slightly with unease, “Will things really get worse?”

Pedro didn’t answer with words—he slowly nodded.

Serious. And certain.

Pedro and his group did not advance toward the city center; they stayed in the outer districts.

There, they found some general stores and took some food.

Once people’s grain sacks were filled again, their moods visibly stabilized; after eating a little, Saen began contacting others.

⊙C〇

At that moment, the police chief arrived by car at the area with the most invaders—large crowds had entered the city from the northern highway.

They destroyed shops at will, beat passersby—they were like dark clouds, casting shadows over every place they passed.

They had seemingly forgotten why they came here: to find food, to survive.

But now, their actions had nothing to do with what they originally sought!

Looting, injuring, plundering—they were becoming the very people they once despised, yet none noticed. When large numbers of police appeared on the streets, though they suppressed some criminals, they didn’t exert much pressure!

Because not long ago, these people—these ordinary folk—had achieved their first rebellion, their first awakening!

Now, seeing even more police, they weren’t afraid; some even looked eager.

They wanted to keep challenging these police—who represented the stable ruling order, the regime’s base of power!

The two sides naturally began gathering and facing off.

The entire street was filled with police and the newly arrived refugees, growing denser by the moment.

Large numbers of police held batons and shields woven from dried vines, standing firm on the road like an unyielding wall.

Behind them, locals who had once disliked—or even secretly cursed—the police now saw them as strangely comforting.

Some even cheered them on, hoping they could stop the crazed refugees.

The two “floods,” growing thicker, began to make contact.

The police swung their batons, warning those who approached: “Stay back! Keep calm!”

Meanwhile, the refugees seemed to be searching for an opening.

The escalation of conflict came in an instant!

The police chief watched from his car at a distance, with no intention to intervene.

If a police officer stops a criminal from committing a crime, in the eyes of the powerful, that officer hasn’t truly fulfilled his duty.

Only when these people commit crimes, cause destruction, and are then arrested, does the police’s purpose and value become evident.

Several senior officers stood around the chief’s car; some wore amused expressions, others showed unease.

They waited—for the situation to escalate further.

Under such intense emotional turbulence, nothing needed to be done—the conflict would escalate on its own.

As one man was shoved to the front of the crowd, emboldened by his recent victory over the police, he suddenly shoved the officer in front of him.

The officer stumbled backward; before the man could even smile, the officer’s comrades immediately swung their batons down on his head.

In normal times, they wouldn’t aim so precisely at vital points—like the head.

But now, the police struck with lethal force.

It was like a drop of boiling oil hitting water—the entire pot exploded in an instant!

In that moment, those fighting the police had no other thought—they only wanted to defeat these police once again.

Food or other things had already been forgotten by them.

Some reporters were present, and as the conflict escalated, they continued taking photographs.

The police chief felt these people should not be allowed to take photos, but since the president said nothing, he had no right to offer any other opinion.

Watching the two sides entangled together, each within the other.

The police chief nodded slightly; under his instruction, an officer opened his holster and drew a handgun imported from the Federation, firing it into the air.

A single gunshot—“pop”—suddenly silenced the chaotic street.

The people fighting froze mid-action and turned toward the source of the sound.

A young man, about twenty, stared wide-eyed at the officer standing on the car roof, watching the gun still smoking in his hand.

The next second, a baton struck his head hard; he screamed, clutched his skull, and collapsed to the ground.

The policeman in front of him refused to roll him over, cursing vile words, bending down to swing his baton repeatedly against the man’s body.

In that instant, the previously balanced struggle between the two sides tilted completely!

Just as the officer on the car roof wore an uncontainable smile, before he could leap down, another gunshot rang out.

The officer on the car roof collapsed directly; every movement on the street halted again at the sound of the gunshot.

When they saw the officer shot in the chest and falling from the car roof, the oppressed refugees suddenly launched a fierce counterattack, catching the police completely off guard.

Not only were the police caught off guard—the police chief was too.

He could hardly believe it, clutching his head; he had just stood up and smashed his skull against the car roof.

In his eyes now, not a trace of calm remained—only endless panic!

“How did they get guns?”

“Has a gang joined this action too?”

He was frantic, asking the officers beside him.

But the officers, crouching by the car windows, had no idea either—they could only stay crouched.

The situation reversed dramatically; another police officer couldn’t resist pulling his handgun—but the moment he drew it, a bullet struck him.

He never even got to fire it; he fell to the ground.

A refugee nearby suddenly lunged forward, snatched the gun from his hand, and fired it at the nearest police officer, whose face was filled with shock…

Intense gunfire erupted across the city—something Lamen had never seen since its founding.

Diego in the presidential palace leapt to his feet, staggered to the window, and looked out at the city—but saw nothing.

He could only see columns of smoke rising in the distance.

Such intense gunfire couldn’t possibly be a one-sided “massacre.” He glanced at his butler. “Deploy the army to protect the presidential palace. Find out what’s happening.”

Information quickly came in: the police chief had led his men to block refugees from entering the city’s core area, and fierce clashes erupted.

During this, a police officer drew his gun as a warning—but no one expected him to be shot dead.

Possibly someone among the refugees fired first, then the police retaliated, and the scene spiraled into chaos.

Diego knew that private weapons were manufactured among the people of Lamen.

He couldn’t stop it—there were vast tracts of primeval forest here; some people made weapons themselves to hunt in the woods, a source of meat for the lower classes.

They also had to defend against wild beasts, especially in villages and towns near the primeval forests.

Wild animals often burst out to prey on domestic livestock, animals, or even people themselves.

So Diego and his ministers knew about private arms workshops among the people—but never investigated deeply.

A homemade weapon could at most be used for hunting; it wouldn’t threaten the state’s regime just because a few unprofessional, outdated guns existed.

In fact, it had been true for years—no one had ever used such homemade weapons to rebel.

But today, things were different.

Diego said nothing, sitting there with a dark face; for the first time, he felt his regime might be trembling.

Gunfire in the city continued, but its intensity had clearly lessened from before.

The police chief fled immediately in his car; the police completely collapsed, and more people surged into the city with even more violent rage!

The local residents who had just leaned out their windows cheering for the police became the first targets of their fury!

Now the refugees were stronger, because they held truth in their hands!

More than half the city plunged into chaos.

The few telephones in the entire city were now busy; Diego was constantly harassed by calls, as people asked what had happened and what measures the presidential palace would take.

Though he was impatient, he answered each one.

He was not a competent president—he had not helped his people achieve prosperous lives like the Jede Republic.

But he was a competent ruler—he knew how to properly maintain his rule.

The more critical the moment, the more he must protect the privileged class and ruling elite, ensuring they did not side with the refugees and cause further collapse!