[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-the-shadow-empire":3,"chapter-the-shadow-empire-the-shadow-empire-chapter-987":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},2268607,4428,"Chapter 987: The Corpse Has the Value of a Corpse, and a Pie in the Sky","the-shadow-empire-chapter-987",987,"\u003Cp>Mr. Richard’s wife had not shared dinner with him for quite some time.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Men are always like this.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When they gain power and wealth, they inevitably lose their families.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When you focus on one thing, it’s hard to attend to others—career and family both demand immense time, and balance is difficult.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Someone like Mr. Richard, managing a massive company in trouble, must handle countless tasks daily: meetings, networking, and everything else.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tonight, he came home to share dinner with her instead of attending some VIP’s “New Year’s Eve party,” then returning the next day reeking of women’s perfume.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To Mr. Richard’s wife, this was already deeply, deeply moving.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She had prepared many delicious dishes; their daughter was also home today, besides him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“We haven’t spent a key holiday together as a family in a long time.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She pressed close to the table, knife in one hand, fork in the other, her face beaming with joy—as if, in this moment, she had become the happiest person alive.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps his exhaustion melted under his wife’s warm smile; Mr. Richard smiled too, making a hollow promise.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“From now on, we’ll spend every important day together!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He knew full well this promise would never come true—that’s why he uttered it without hesitation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He couldn’t keep it, but a short-term “kind lie” was easy enough.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Let’s just enjoy this wonderful night first!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Really?” His wife was on the verge of tears, happiness overwhelming her; she rose from her seat, walked to Mr. Richard’s side, and hugged his shoulders. “I’m so moved!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mr. Richard’s guilt deepened; he felt awkward. He looked at his daughter, gave her a helpless expression, then set down his knife and fork and embraced his wife, murmuring, “Everything will be fine.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their embrace lasted about ten seconds before his wife released him and returned to her seat; the family began to enjoy their New Year’s dinner in harmony.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just before eight, they had nearly finished eating; the dinner atmosphere was perfect.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mr. Richard brought out all his business wit and humor, making his wife and daughter laugh repeatedly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For a husband and a father, this was undoubtedly the greatest reward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps seeing her father in good spirits, Mr. Richard’s daughter gathered courage and said, “I’m dating someone.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mr. Richard froze. He glanced at his wife—she seemed to have known already—then turned back to his daughter. “Don’t tell me I’m the last to find out!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His daughter was nervous but nodded. “You’re always busy, and we rarely see each other or sit down to talk.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I tried telling you a few times, but you told me to tell Mom.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mr. Richard vaguely remembered. He slapped his forehead. “My God, what did I miss?!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He looked at his daughter. “Alright, tell me about this boy—I need to confirm he’s worthy of you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These words eased her tension; she began praising her boyfriend.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At that moment, the doorbell rang suddenly. Mr. Richard checked his watch—it was eight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His smile widened. Seeing his wife rise, he stood up himself. “I’ll get it. Probably my documents—you know, I’ve been swamped!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He gave the mother and daughter a reassuring look, then hurried to the door.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had ordered a large bouquet—ninety-nine roses—with a necklace resting atop them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He wanted to give his wife a romantic, sweet New Year’s Eve she’d remember forever.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The doorbell rang again, insistently. He strode forward, calling out, “Coming, coming—don’t rush, brother!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Without hesitation, he yanked the door open—and saw a man in a thin cotton jacket standing outside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He wore a baseball cap; the porch light cast down, its brim shadowing his face, leaving only a dark, indistinct outline.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His gaze fell on the man’s hands—both hung naturally at his sides, clad in lambskin gloves—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He knew they were lambskin because he owned a similar pair.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lambskin is thin, sometimes lined with a layer of fleece, sometimes not—maximizing hand fit. Expert leatherworkers can make gloves feel like a second skin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the man’s right hand, Mr. Richard saw a pistol.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He froze. Instantly, a chill exploded inside him!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He couldn’t even open his mouth to speak!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The next second, the man at the door raised his pistol. Survival instinct overrode his brain’s control—he dropped low and turned to run.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But his speed was nothing compared to a bullet’s.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The gunshot was quiet—a small-caliber pistol with a suppressor; beyond a few meters, no sound remained.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Of course, this also limited the gun’s effective range to just fifteen meters.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fifteen meters is inadequate in open combat—but inside a room, it’s more than enough.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Three bullets struck Mr. Richard: two in the head, one in the back.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He collapsed with a thud—but didn’t die immediately.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His brain was severely damaged, yet fragments of thought and awareness remained. His face showed no expression. He tried to open his mouth, to scream—but couldn’t.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Inside the room, the mother and daughter heard the heavy thud from the hallway. Mr. Richard’s wife instinctively asked, “Darling, what happened?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Do you need help?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As she spoke, she rose and walked toward the door.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In his final moments, Mr. Richard’s eyes filled with tears.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since adulthood, he had never cried.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sometimes he thought: even if his parents, his wife, or his child died in an accident, he wouldn’t cry.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He believed himself naturally cold. He was good at acting—sometimes pretending to be warm, emotional.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But deep down, he knew he was indifferent.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d always believed this—until this moment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Maybe he truly cried. Maybe his brain was damaged, and his tear ducts contracted uncontrollably.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Either way, his eyes were full of tears.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His mouth hung open, his facial muscles twisted, his consciousness dimming, blurry. He watched the shadow draw closer—saw a pair of slippers enter his vision.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It’s over.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No scream—only a thud. His wife collapsed before him. Then he saw black leather shoes step into the room, followed by more gunshots.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>About twenty seconds later, the gunman stepped out of the dining room. He noticed Mr. Richard’s still-twitching eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He walked over, stepped on Mr. Richard’s neck, and emptied the entire magazine into his head…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Blood on the floor slowly spread inward, eventually mingling Mr. Richard’s blood with his wife’s.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The next morning, company staff couldn’t reach Mr. Richard. With so much going on, they called him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The phone went unanswered. The board grew suspicious and reported it to the police.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Police arrived quickly at Mr. Richard’s home and found his and his family’s bodies inside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The case shocked the entire city’s upper class—Mr. Richard was one of them. His death made others wary and alert.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>During the investigation, police received an unverified tip.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The company claimed Mr. Richard had transferred a large sum of funds before his murder—now the money was gone. Whether he actually moved it didn’t matter to the board members; they were just exploiting the rumor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Who killed Mr. Richard?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The board and major shareholders had suspicions—only a few people were likely suspects.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The insurance company, Lans White, and the injured workers from the factory fire who received no compensation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only these groups held deep grudges against Mr. Richard and had motive to kill him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the small-caliber pistol ruled out ordinary workers—they rarely had access to such weapons; it required either money or connections.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Still, the board didn’t fully rule it out—what if one of those workers had military training?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Still, their main focus remained on the insurance company and the White family.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They had no desire to avenge Mr. Richard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They were capitalists. Capitalists act only for profit—if there’s no gain, they won’t act.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They joined the investigation only to find out who pulled the trigger.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mr. Richard’s death halted all Jinguang Winery’s operations, including the lawsuit against the insurance company.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though the new CEO would continue pursuing it, they’d eased off for now—perhaps they’d develop new ideas.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After all, it was the New Year—time for a fresh start.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Federal citizens celebrated the first day of the year in cheer—but in Lapa, people kept collapsing from hunger.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They didn’t starve to death outright—they ate inedible things or were attacked by predators in the jungle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So desperate were they that they ventured into the jungle for food, disturbing its predators and toxic flora and fauna.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Someone ate a mushroom and closed their eyes, returning to God’s embrace.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Someone touched a beautiful frog and collapsed in the jungle from cardiac arrest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Someone stepped on a snake, which gave him a dose of poison worth its weight in gold.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Every day, people died searching for food. Public anger toward the Lapa government had reached its limit!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Under these conditions, Diego delivered a public broadcast speech—audible across all of Lapa and surrounding regions.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To ensure maximum awareness, they announced the time and date three days in advance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At 2 p.m. on January 1st, Diego appeared outside the Presidential Palace as the high-power radio station activated.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Citizens of Lapa, I am your president, Diego…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He followed with a string of names and two pronunciations Lans couldn’t identify.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Locals said these were native-language names, with no accurate translation in the common tongue.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By announcing his full name and native pronunciations in this setting, Diego was asserting his legitimacy and authority.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This is like an ancient emperor who, when not in his castle but out in the world, would emphasize his surname—Imperial Clan!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Diego did exactly that, stressing these points to gain at least no strong opposition from the people.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After all, he and his family had ruled Lapa for a long time and still had a certain foundation of rule.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Among the ruled, there are always some who have grown addicted to kneeling—they enjoy being ruled, exploited, and oppressed; without several great mountains on their backs, they feel as if they cannot live.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There will always be those who willingly make excuses for his brutal rule; thus, ruling is an art, requiring the ruler to possess political skill and intelligence beyond the ordinary.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But it’s not always like that!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There are always people who can rule a group of equally dim-witted individuals without needing any brains at all.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I am deeply pained by recent events in Zolan. What wonderful people we have!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They were misled and deceived by certain individuals, ending up standing against us, against the people, and paying a heavy price.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I believe most people are kind, and I believe we can overcome this crisis.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“We have recently completed the first round of consultations with the President’s Cabinet of the Jede Republic on food supplies.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“We will receive no less than three hundred fifty thousand tons of food aid—enough to carry us through until winter ends…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Actually, it’s five hundred thousand tons, but he didn’t say it outright—not because he and his ministers wanted to embezzle fifteen thousand tons, but because this portion would be temporarily kept secret.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If the need arises in certain environments or places, they would release it—essentially as a final reserve.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But how could three hundred fifty thousand tons of food possibly sustain so many people until spring?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That is no longer Diego’s or the Cabinet’s problem—it is the people’s own problem.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At one pound per person per day, it simply wouldn’t last until spring.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But what if a person only needed one pound per week?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wheat can be mixed with more water; food doesn’t have to be choking—it can be a thin porridge.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Add other things, like coarse plant fibers that are hard to digest, and it can still stretch further.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He also spoke of ideas to create more job opportunities, telling the people that the Lapa government was negotiating with the Lianbangzheng Prefecture on local resource development.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Once the negotiations are settled, at least several hundred thousand new jobs will be created—high-paying ones.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There are also opportunities to work in the Lianbangzheng Prefecture.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because large numbers of young people have been conscripted into the military, sent to the front lines or waiting for deployment at military bases, a massive shortage of young labor has emerged.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some jobs are fine for older men, but others—especially heavy physical labor—are best left to the young.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They need such workers; Lans can guarantee at least fifty to one hundred thousand people will be recruited to work in the Lianbangzheng Prefecture.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Behind two hundred thousand jobs lie four or five hundred thousand families, reaching and transforming the lives of at least three to four million people.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Diego’s Cabinet has discussed this issue: at least one-third of Lapa’s population will move from “extremely poor” to “poor,” and a small portion will become wealthier than poor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thus, Lapa’s regime effectively “co-opts” these new beneficiaries, turning them into staunch supporters of the Lapa government.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They are wealthier and more active than others; thus, they become the best protectors of power.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lans listened as Diego kept describing a bright future on the radio—he was certain Diego was reading from a script, and that script wasn’t written by him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He lacks that level of skill; if he had it, Lapa wouldn’t be in such a terrible state today.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lans slowly withdrew his attention from the radio and glanced at Gomes standing in the corner. “Can you confirm the route and schedule of this train?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gomes bowed his head, “Of course I can, Mr. Lans!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Diego suspects me somewhat, but he can’t find anyone else suitable, so he assigned me to receive the first batch of food.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lans smiled slightly. “Do a good job, Gomes.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I know you want to touch the power of this country—but it will never belong to you, and never can. So don’t even think about it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Do your assigned work well, and I’ll give you the chance to go to the Lianbangzheng Prefecture—as a Lianbang citizen.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Isn’t it better to be a wealthy man in the Lianbangzheng Prefecture than a bullied president in Lapa?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gomes showed no sign of displeasure. “That’s exactly what I think, Mr. Lans.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Then what about the food on this train?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lans handed him a map. “Draw the railway line, and write down the time.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Think carefully before you put pen to paper—you only get one chance!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Don’t waste it!”\u003C\u002Fp>",2343,"2026-06-19T21:10:31.886Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","37588eb52af66ca5c63485fcc496ba1cdeb5bd336fe56b6a4abcc69c314e19d3","the-shadow-empire-chapter-988","the-shadow-empire-chapter-986",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-shadow-empire-cover.jpg"]