The five sons standing before Provincial Governor Degra remained silent in response to his question. In such an environnt, they never needed to study diligently, for power was inherited.
When Provincial Governor Degra felt he no longer had the energy to manage the affairs of this province, he would directly pass the position of Provincial Governor to one of his children, and then inform the Federation’s Central Governnt.
After a fair, just, and transparent election by the people, his child beca the next Provincial Governor and had already taken office.
As for whether the Central Governnt had any opinions or thoughts, they did not care.
This near-hereditary transfer of power had made the ruling class lose its motivation. Whether they acted or not, they still belonged to the ruling class in the end, so why not comfortably enjoy their lives?
In earlier years, things were a bit better; after all, political power and divine authority were constantly at odds. If those wielding political power were too foolish, the High Priests would teach them a lesson, or even expel them from the ruling class.
To continue enjoying the wonderful taste of power atop the people, they had to master so political struggles, but this generation is clearly lacking.
The struggles between political power and divine authority beca increasingly ceremonial. Unknowingly, people began to seem accustod to just shouting slogans without taking action. They beca more decayed, more corrupt, more rotten!
A sowhat disappointed Provincial Governor Degra didn’t show his disappointnt. He looked at his five sons, each with a different expression, and his tightly pressed lips lost so color, looking a bit pale.
"Help him, watch him, find out what he wants to do, don’t trust him too much, and don’t show hostility too early!"
One of his sons suddenly interjected, "Just like before!"
Degra wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t. If such things happened to soone else’s child, he’d laugh and say, "The child is still young; one day he’ll learn to fly in the sky." But since it’s his own child, he couldn’t laugh.
The tis have changed, perhaps...
Degra’s gaze changed slightly. Whether Lynch ca to make money, or just to stir things up, he might be a very good whetstone.
One of these kids will eventually replace him. They need to wrestle, need setbacks. The people from the Temple dare not deal with these young n to prevent the situation from getting out of hand. But what about Lynch?
He is not from here, his roots aren’t here, might he behave differently?
Governor Degra smiled silently, causing a few of the other children to glance jealously at their eldest brother.
They might not understand many things, but they knew that only one could inherit the position of Provincial Governor!
The effects of last night’s banquet quickly appeared after a night’s fernting, displaying its frightening power. The entire Magulana Province began to take action; it was an excellent opportunity to make money.
Early in the morning, Lynch had not yet gotten up; he had just gotten off the ship yesterday, and having had so drinks in the evening made him a bit tired.
He was indeed young, but he also needed rest.
Around six-thirty, the sky over Nagariel was already fully bright, and the knocking at the door woke Lynch from his dreams.
The entire floor was a single suite with layers of bodyguards outside to protect him, so he needn’t worry about his safety.
The one knocking at this ti was either the Senior Soldier or Asir.
"Co in!" He adjusted his pillow, leaned against the leather upholstery of the bedhead, and simply smoothed his slightly ssy hair.
Entering the room was Asir, and Lynch’s face lit up with a smile. Asir had perford well in his tasks here lately, which was praiseworthy; he didn’t mind showing a bit of a smile, "Sorry, I just got up, so..."
He was apologizing for his disheveled state, but Asir seed a bit surprised by the attention, paused for two seconds, then stood at the foot of the bed, lowered his head, and said, "Mr. Hassana is in the hotel’s lobby. He wants to invite you to visit the hunting grounds."
"Hassana?" Lynch was puzzled; he had forgotten who this was. He t too many people last night, and he had drunk alcohol too.
Asir quickly explained, "He’s the fur rchant, one of the largest local fur rchants."
The population of the entire Nagariel was concentrated along the coastal parts of the country and the edges of the prairies. They wouldn’t live deeper into the jungles or prairies, where there were all sorts of predators.
People often say humans are the nesis of animals, but that’s under the premise that humans have modern weapons and nurical advantages. If you throw a man, bare and defenseless, into the prival jungles, he wouldn’t last more than twenty-four hours before becoming nourishnt for nature.
The slow pace of industrial developnt in Nagariel over the years has also protected its natural environnt. Even now, news of wild beasts attacking villages and causing casualties to people and livestock frequently happens.
These sights are nowhere to be found in the Federation; those wild beasts have been tad by modern civilization and confined to reserves. But here, it’s still so wild.
Here, as long as you leave the city circle, you enter hunting grounds where you can see all kinds of prey.
Before the world war, so people would co here deliberately to hunt and enjoy the thrill of conquering nature. But as the world war broke out, these people dwindled, almost none left.
Lynch, after tidying up a bit, t Hassana, the chubby fur rchant, in the hotel lobby.
The two exchanged brief greetings before Hassana explained his intentions.
"Yesterday, I asked my nephew after going back, and he told that recently, so animal migration routes pass right through our area...," he said, touching his thinning, slightly curly hair, "Today, we’re organizing a hunt. I think Mr. Lynch has never seen sothing like this before, maybe you’d be interested to take a look?"
Lynch thought for a mont and agreed. It was also a social process.
The group then left the hotel in several cars.
This city isn’t big. Lynch saw many things when he arrived yesterday, and today, as he left the city, he thought he already understood it. But once he truly left the city circle, he realized what he saw wasn’t everything.
Outside the city circle, it wasn’t wilderness or farmland, but a vast expanse of shantytowns stretching endlessly. The air here carried an unpleasant stench, more terrifying and more intense than the city’s.
In these slls were the stench of excrent, the acrid sll of so chemicals, the burnt sll of sothing scorched, and a putrid odor like at left to rot in a hot, humid environnt, a sll that clung to your nose and wouldn’t dissipate easily.
As the convoy passed by, people by the roadside stood up, whether lying, crouching, or sitting. This showed their respect for the upper class. If soone didn’t, it wouldn’t matter, but people were accustod to it. The strict social class system scared them from defying these rules set against the lower social strata.
Their lifeless eyes gazed at those dressed in lavishly elegant clothes behind the car windows, without envy, jealousy, or hatred, only bewildernt and numbness.
After the convoy passed, they would lie down, crouch, sit down again, and continue what they were doing.
Hassana handed Lynch a perfud handkerchief, "Maybe this will help you, it’s too slly here. I’ve suggested to the mayor several tis to drive these paupers away from the city surroundings, but he seems to have his own ideas!"
To do business in Nagariel and beco a wealthy rchant, everyone has a unique background. Therefore, he wasn’t particularly respectful towards the mayor. Even if there was a social status gap, it wasn’t insurmountable.
Lynch said thank you and took the handkerchief. It was a hand-sewn handkerchief about a circle larger than a palm, looking delicate with a layer inside, giving off a scent of herbs or spices.
These aromas nicely masked the pervasive acrid stench in the air, and so spices also had a refreshing effect.
"These people... are they refugees?" Lynch looked at the people like living zombies, a bit puzzled.
Hassana pouted dissatisfied, "They are just so poor people who gathered around the city for various reasons, relying on the city for survival. So say we couldn’t do without them, but I’d say the city would be better off without these people."
For various reasons, such as wild animals attacking villages, natural disasters, or young people migrating to the city, forcing the elderly to move here. For many reasons, these people gathered around the city.
They mainly did odd jobs or casual labor, like the employees at Asir’s "Alchemy Plant," recruited from these people.
They didn’t care if the work was harmful to them, didn’t care if they lived with dignity. As long as they could earn money, even if it was little, or even as long as they could get more food to fill their families’ bellies, they were willing to do any job.
A group of pitiful people.
After over ten minutes of driving through such an environnt, they finally entered the wilderness. Passing one field after another, the convoy finally reached the edge of the grassland.
It was almost noon; the journey wasn’t close.
This place was at the intersection of the primitive jungle and grassland, also in the central and western region of Nagariel.
Actually, Lynch’s experience at this mont wasn’t particularly good; the grass on the grassland was so damn tall, over a ter high, and so places might reach over two ters.
So twisted trees hid so carnivores, whose emotionless eyes stared at the advancing convoy.
The distant forest was indeed majestic but too far to be considered awe-inspiring, all that t the eye were grasses.
"We have a camp ahead, where we’ll switch to more professional equipnt and vehicles." Hassana explained, as the prairie got deeper, the grass height would beco higher.
At that point, ordinary vehicles couldn’t travel normally anymore, so they needed specialized equipnt and vehicles.
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