Don’t raise unruly people in extreme cold weather

Chapter 883

As the former capital of the Empire of Romulus, the City of Seven Hills witnessed the most glorious years of this vast empire.

Initially, this was indeed just seven hills along the Tiber River, but as the imperial cavalry conquered all directions, this capital city absorbed the essence of the entire civilized world like a sponge.

Looking down from the air, the entire city expands radially outward, with twelve main roads extending from the city center like the sun's rays.

The outermost city wall has a circumference of more than 20 kilometers, encompassing the entire plain and hills.

The marble Arc de Triomphe stands tall on every avenue leading into the city, engraved with the great achievements of successive emperors of the empire.

The Coliseum in the city center is an architectural wonder, with an oval-shaped stand that can accommodate more than 80,000 spectators.

During the heyday of the empire, thrilling performances were staged here every day: from life-and-death duels between gladiators with real swords and guns, to fights between exotic beasts and warriors, and even small-scale naval battle simulations in water-filled venues - the tactics of the entire Mediterranean fleet could be reproduced here.

The cheers from the audience were said to be able to be heard from miles away.

The Pantheon not far away showcases the empire's pinnacle achievement in architectural art.

The huge dome with a diameter of 43 meters is still a miracle in architectural history. The circular opening on the top allows sunlight to pour down like a waterfall, illuminating the statues of gods enshrined in the hall.

Each of these statues, made of the finest marble and bronze, is priceless.

The racecourse in the north of the city is extremely luxurious, with obelisks from the Desert Kingdom and bronze statues from the Aegean Sea standing on both sides of the 600-meter-long track.

The nobles spent huge sums of money here to bet on the charioteers they supported.

The adjacent Grand Theatre stages the most exquisite plays, from classical tragedies to farcical comedies.

But what scholars dream of most is the world-famous library.

The three-story building housed more than 700,000 papyrus and parchment scrolls covering all the knowledge of the known world at the time.

Precious books from Alexandria, Athens and Babylon were carefully copied and preserved here.

The library's dome is decorated with exquisite star maps and the marble floor is inlaid with a world map.

Every corner of the City of Seven Hills exudes the atmosphere of culture and art.

The fountain sculptures on the streets were created by the most outstanding artists, the monuments in the squares record great historical events, and even the walls of ordinary houses are often decorated with exquisite mosaics.

This is not only a political center, but also the well-deserved cultural heart of the entire Old World.

Scholars, artists, and philosophers from all over the empire gathered here to compose the brilliant movement of human civilization.

But all this splendor has now turned into frozen ruins. The cold north wind carries snow particles, whimpering through the broken columns and arches, as if mourning the passing of this great city.

The once bustling arena is now only half a circle of shaky stands. The emperor's box, once inlaid with ivory and gold, is now covered with a thick layer of ice; the battlefields where the gladiators fought bloody battles are now covered with dirty snow.

A skinny wolf jumped out from under the collapsed archway, sniffed the strange smell in the air vigilantly, and quickly disappeared into the depths of the ruins.

The dome of the Pantheon had long since collapsed, and the circular opening that had once let the sunlight pour down like a divine grace now only revealed a leaden sky.

The priceless statues in the temple were either eroded beyond recognition by ice and snow, or smashed by humans.

The sacrifices of the Old Gods angered the survivors. They might not be able to fight against the Old Gods who had the power granted by the gods, but they could still destroy the statues after those evil guys left.

However, what is most heartbreaking is the great library that once housed the crystallization of human wisdom.

The missionaries stood in front of the charred ruins, feeling so heartbroken that they could hardly breathe.

Fragments of burnt parchment were scattered in the snow like black snowflakes, and occasionally a few incomplete words could be seen.

An elderly missionary knelt on the ground, his trembling fingers gently brushing over a charred clay tablet - ancient cuneiform words were vaguely visible on it.

"These... these are the treasures of human civilization." His voice choked, and tears welled up in his eyes behind the lenses: "Just like that, they turned into ashes."

The star map on the library's dome had long since fallen, and the stars made of pure gold were scattered throughout the ruins.

A missionary picked up a broken mosaic from the snow, on which was still preserved the broken face of an ancient Greek philosopher.

He carefully took it into his arms, as if this could save a little bit of the lost civilization.

The whole city was like the corpse of a giant, with collapsed columns like broken ribs and broken arches like gaping wounds.

And beneath the wreckage of these civilizations, the survivors linger like rats, using the wisdom of their ancestors as fuel for heating.

The leader of the missionaries gazed at the ruins and clenched the holy book in his hand - what they brought was not only the faith in the new god, but also the hope of rebuilding civilization.

Under the guidance of the floating city's engineers, the first mobile energy tower was erected on the ruins of the Seven Hills Square in just three days.

This steel structure, about 15 meters high, exudes a silver-grey metallic luster all over, and a halo of light flows on the metal plates engraved with a constant temperature barrier.

When the steam boiler spewed out white smoke for the first time, the rising steam was particularly eye-catching in the silent city, like a beacon in the darkness, attracting the attention of survivors from all directions.

In the open space in front of the energy tower, the missionaries erected a three-meter-high statue of a new god - a mighty god of war wearing golden armor and holding the imperial flag.

On the base of the statue is a giant divine emblem with a diameter of five meters, made of reflective metal material that sparkles even on cloudy days.

Such a blatant religious symbol is undoubtedly a blatant provocation in the City of Seven Hills, a place where the old gods' believers sacrificed a large number of survivors.

Sure enough, on the evening of the day the statue was completed, several masked survivors hid behind the broken wall and threw stones and rotten food at the construction site.

A piece of gravel scraped the cheek of an engineer who was laying cables, but the missionaries just calmly continued with their work.

The steam knight on guard did not even activate the steam armor, but just used his mechanical eyes to coldly scan the thrower's hiding place.

"Don't pay attention to these temptations," the missionary leader said to his men, "hunger and cold will teach them to make the right choice."

Instead, there is a tweeter mounted on top of the energy tower.

This alchemically enhanced voice-generating device broadcasts in standard Imperial Mandarin every half an hour: "Attention all survivors, we provide food, medicine, and warm shelter. Just participate in the construction of the camp and you will get basic living security."

Missionaries understand the human heart.

They did not ask the survivors to convert right away, but cleverly used labor in exchange for survival supplies to open up the situation. Every morning, several large barrels of hot porridge made from compressed biscuits were placed around the energy tower. Although it was not a good thing, the tempting aroma of food could not be faked.

The aroma of these foods wafting through the cold air was more persuasive than any preaching words.

At the same time, the floating fleet has dispersed.

Three airships headed for the port city in the north, two flew to the agricultural plains in the southeast, and the rest continued to establish outposts around the City of Seven Hills.

Each airship carries a missionary team, ready to spread the gospel of the New God like ripples throughout the Old World.

With the material support of the floating city module, the missionaries don't have to worry about supply issues at all.

Their warehouses were filled with compressed biscuits, canned food, warm clothing and medical supplies shipped from the North.

These precious supplies are like bait, waiting for desperate survivors to fall into the trap.

Once the survivors begin to rely on the warmth of the energy tower, it is only a matter of time before they accept the faith of the new god.
-
In Perfecto's study, a desk lamp emits a soft light.

She sat at a large oak desk, her fingertips flicking through the latest reports that had just been sent back from the Old World.

As she read further, a gleam of approval flashed in her heterochromatic eyes.

"These missionaries have done better than expected to gain a foothold in the old God's heartland like the City of Seven Hills." She put the report aside, picked up a cup of steaming black tea, and sipped it while praising it.

Although there are currently less than a hundred believers who have formally converted to the new god, it is already commendable that they have been able to establish a stable stronghold in the face of obvious resistance from local residents.

When reading the passages about the large-scale sacrifices of the old gods, Perfectot's brows furrowed.

She put the teacup back on the tray with a loud clanging sound.

"In order to maintain their divine power, they actually sacrificed the entire city's residents?" Her voice was as cold as the polar wind. "These so-called gods are even more greedy and cruel than I imagined."

But soon, she suppressed her anger and turned to thinking about more practical issues.

The slender fingers tapped lightly on the table, making a rhythmic sound.

"The missionaries have opened up the situation. Next," she said to herself, "as long as we can restore local resource output and production, we can gradually restore the vitality of the city. In this way, the spread of faith and radiation to surrounding areas will not be a problem."

Suddenly, her fingers stopped.

A dangerous thought came to my mind: "The City of Seven Hills is the core of the old world, and the old gods held large-scale sacrifices there. This means that extreme evil god sects are likely to be born there."

She stood up and walked over to the map on the wall, staring at the area marked with the City of Seven Hills.

"The three God-killing Armored Units we sent out," she said, running her fingertips over the military deployments marked on the map. "If we encounter a war between gods, I'm afraid they will not be enough."

This realization sent a chill down her spine.

The decision to send out the floating city module now seems to be extremely correct - it is not only a mobile supply station, but also a powerful strategic deterrent.

The alchemical weapons carried by the module are enough to fight against ordinary servants and subordinate gods.

Perfect returned to his desk and quickly wrote down a new order.

She decided to send two more Steam Knight squads and equip them with two additional God Killer Armors.

“We must prepare for the worst,” she whispered as she wrote. “The old gods will never sit idly by and watch their faith be taken away.”

After writing the last word, she rolled up the instructions and sealed them with wax.

Emblazoned on the lacquer was the symbol of the New God—a pattern of intertwined gears and flames that gleamed in the light.

This missionary activity is not only about the spread of faith, but also a head-on battle with the old gods.

Perfect dipped her quill into ink and frowned slightly, thinking about how to present her plan to the cabinet.

This is not a simple request, but a strategic layout that may change the fate of the entire world.

"To the ministers of the cabinet," her pen tip slid smoothly across the paper, "Regarding the advancement of the New God Project in the Old World, we now need to request the following support."

She paused, the tip of her pen hovering over the paper, the ink dripping into a small dark dot.

This is not about supplies - the warehouses in the floating city have already prepared enough supplies for the missionaries; nor is it about troops - the God-killing armor is enough to deal with most threats.

What she needs is something more precious: talent and technology.

"First, dispatch 300 skilled craftsmen, including construction engineers, alchemists, and agricultural experts." She continued to write, her handwriting clear and powerful, "Second, we need about 2,000 volunteer immigrants, preferably young and middle-aged families. These people will be sent to major cities in the Old World in batches via floating fleets."

Having written this, Perfect looked up at the old world map hanging on the wall.

The cities circled in red were once glorious, but now only ruins remain.

Local survivors and missionaries might be able to maintain a small settlement, but rebuilding an entire city? That was simply a pipe dream.

"We must realize," she wrote with more force, "that the reconstruction of the Old World is not only about the spread of faith, but also the key to the survival of human civilization! Although the North is temporarily safe, if the Old World falls completely, we will lose the last cultural foundation."

She detailed the cities that needed to be rebuilt first: the City of Seven Hills, the White Pearl Harbor in France.
These places are not only strategically important, but also carry the most precious intellectual heritage of mankind.

Then, her tone became more earnest: "I would like to draw the cabinet's attention in particular. There are still many countries in the Old World that are friendly with the Empire. Before the end of the world, they used precious alchemical books and artifacts to exchange for our shelter technology.

Now that most of these countries are in dire straits, it is the best time for us to help them. "

“It is recommended to immediately restart the ‘Spark of Civilization’ program,” she continued, “selecting outstanding missionaries and technicians to form a mixed mission to go to these friendly countries. They will bring the gospel of the new god and the hope of rebuilding their homeland.”

At the end of the article, her handwriting became particularly solemn: "This is not only a missionary action, but also the self-salvation of human civilization."

She went through the letter carefully, making sure every request was clearly stated and every reason was sufficient.

Although she could force the cabinet to carry out her orders with her status, Perfect chose to persuade them this time.

(End of this chapter)