Blackstone Code Chapter 562: Who’s Cheering

“Where are all these products being sold?”

In the factory workshop, a young worker couldn’t help chatting with his coworker. Everyone wore genuine smiles.

It was hard to believe that just two years ago, they used to look dead inside every ti they showed up on the assembly line—bitter, resentful, and filled with complaints as they worked.

Now, their faces were lit up with joy. Work had beco sothing that brought them ntal and physical satisfaction. Overti? Even better.

The smiling workers heard the young man’s question. They didn’t mind chatting during work.

“I don’t care where it’s going,” soone replied. “All I care about is lunch.”

“You know, I haven’t had bread in almost two months. I never realized how good it tastes—especially with that at soup!”

“My soup yesterday had three pieces of at. I heard you guys only got two!”

That quickly diverted everyone’s attention.

Factory lunches were basic—so vegetables, whole wheat bread, and a bowl of at soup. Forget a month or two—many hadn’t eaten solid food for half a year.

During the long economic downturn, families had mastered a vital survival skill: ho farming. People started growing edible plants on balconies, in rooms—anywhere they could.

Potatoes had partially replaced bread and grain as dietary staples. But they couldn’t replace bread entirely—people still longed for it.

Factory als mainly featured that tough whole wheat bread. You had to break it apart and soak it in the at soup—just the thought made their mouths water.

No one answered the young man’s question. It was drowned in talk of food.

Later at lunch, he traded half a loaf of bread for an answer from the foreman: the goods were headed to the Eastern Ocean port, then shipped south to Nagaryll.

The Nagarylls had money now?

The young man didn’t understand. Weren’t they supposed to be poor and backwards, according to the propaganda? How could they afford these fine federal-made goods?

He buried his doubts. He had a family to support. That flicker of curiosity was too weak to survive under the crushing weight of life.

He returned to the workshop and worked harder than ever. His brief mont of questioning—his instinct to explore—was crushed and forgotten.

Perhaps soday, in a half-dream, the question might return. But it would never be answered.

Days later, the first batch of goods was shipped by rail, arriving at the port the next afternoon. They were loaded onto a ship and sent off.

After four days at sea, the cargo ship slowly docked. New gantry cranes at the port lifted the containers ashore.

anwhile, at the passenger dock nearby, Lynch arrived back in Nagaryll.

“This is a perfect place to spend the winter.”

Lynch removed his heavy coat. The climate was pleasant. After the coldest period passed, the temperature had quickly risen to a spring-like warmth.

“I checked the thermoter before we got off—seventeen degrees,” said his assistant nervously. It was her first ti abroad, and she clung to the coat Lynch had handed her. ꞦαꞐ𝘖฿Е𝙎

Out at sea, the wind had still been cold. But now, everything felt relaxing.

The breeze carried a hint of local funk, mixed with the earthy scent of lush vegetation. It felt like a cleansing ritual.

The city looked much cleaner—thanks to the most important and correct thing Lynch had ordered the mayor to do before leaving: implent paid waste collection and strict penalties.

Almost overnight, the sanitation issues of the city—and even the whole province—were resolved. The sll disappeared, public opinion improved, and people started showing interest in visiting.

In the distance, an ard convoy approached rapidly. First-ti visitors to Nagaryll gasped and tried to run back to the ship. Those who’d been here before glanced around—once they saw Lynch, their faces relaxed.

The convoy was here for Lynch.

The mass protests in Nagaryll had largely been subdued. Change had co faster than anyone expected.

Nagaryll’s youth were taking a different path from their parents. They were expressing themselves in new ways—interesting, but also a little dangerous.

That’s why the security company had dispatched a full convoy to escort Lynch—just in case.

Now overseeing thousands of employees, Lynch had beco a true capitalist. If they didn’t want to lose their jobs, they had better pray for his health and prosperity every day.

“Mr. Lynch…”

The driver of the lead vehicle jumped down, gave a crisp military salute, then exchanged salutes with a sergeant.

Lynch nodded and boarded a modified bus with his team. The convoy ca quickly and left just as fast.

For first-tirs in Nagaryll, the sight of Lynch and his ard escort beca their lasting first impression.

“My God, are all those your people?”

On the bus, the assistant barely dared to breathe. Ard soldiers filled the front and back of the vehicle, watching the surroundings with sharp eyes.

Machine gunners manned turrets on the lead and tail armored vehicles. It looked like a scene from a war movie or docuntary.

Lynch nodded.

“You’ll have to get used to this. Nagaryll is safe—but also not safe. As long as we take proper precautions, it’s actually safer than the Federation.”

In the Federation, rampant gun ownership made it easy for anyone to beco a killer—load a round, pull the trigger.

But in Nagaryll, that wasn’t possible. Ordinary people couldn’t afford weapons. Even if they had money, they couldn’t get them.

Only a select few had access to arms. If anything happened, they’d be dealt with imdiately. In that sense, Nagaryll was actually safer.

The assistant swallowed hard and nodded nervously—uneasy, but also curious.

Lynch turned to the man in the front seat, Asel.

“Did anything serious happen during the protests?”

He’d only received word last week. With his ti at sea, he had no idea what had occurred.

Asel hesitated, then shook his head.

“Nothing major. A few young n tried to storm a police station—two were shot dead on the spot, the rest scattered.”

“The police chief is investigating whether it was a planned attack and what their intentions were. So far, no real progress.”This was likely the only discordant incident during the entire protest. After hearing about it, Lynch rely frowned and said nothing.

He understood very well that even the most foolish Nagarylls wouldn’t attack a law enforcent agency—unless there was sothing inside they wanted.

And what do such agencies have?

Police—and the guns they carry.

“Tell the police chief to tighten control over the weapons. Make sure every officer stores their handgun in the precinct’s vault after their shift, and have soone guard the vault at night.”

Asel reacted quickly. Having spent a long ti in the Federation, his thinking was more aligned with the federal mindset. He imdiately grasped Lynch’s implication.

“You an… soone plans to steal the weapons?!”

His voice tensed. As a local, he knew Nagarylls weren’t typically a rebellious people. The recent unrest and just-ended protests were already inconceivable to him—and to most of Nagaryll.

For centuries, they had accepted oppression, exploitation, and slavery. No one had ever thought to resist. How had people suddenly started standing up?

Lynch’s ntion of a possible attempt to seize firearms seed impossible at first. But after that instinctive reaction, Asel began to think maybe it wasn’t.

Everything was changing. The collision between foreign culture and local society was bound to produce sothing unpredictable.

What had once been impossible might no longer be.

Asel then reported more details about the protests. After a period of chaos, the Nagarylls gave up—not because a compromise was reached, but because foreign factories began mass-firing workers who had taken part.

This significantly raised the cost of participating in the protests.

At the sa ti, so capitalists compiled a blacklist. Anyone on it would never be hired again. Under this heavy pressure, the demonstrations quickly fizzled out.

Compared to the vague hope of getting slightly better pay, continuing to work ant guaranteed inco. If they couldn’t work at all, they’d get nothing.

That’s what people liked about this place: no laws, no labor unions. If this had happened in the Federation, and capitalists dared to fire protesting workers, the unions would have sued them into bankruptcy.