Handong: Sha Li wants political achievements? I'll shut down the entire province.

"Gurgle... Splash!"

A foul-smelling black bubble rose from the sewer opening, accompanied by the dull thud of bones hitting the cast iron bars.

Old Liu and Professor Li were completely swept into the pitch-black underground pipe network by those two high-pressure water jets.

The smell of fermented swill mixed with the stench of rat urine from the sewer rose straight up from the rusty metal sheet.

Outside the construction site, a short employee gulped down the mutated watermelon juice in his cup.

The ice cubes made a crisp "crunch" sound as they hit the empty glass.

"These old-fashioned vampires, do they even deserve to eat our Handong potatoes? They deserve to be killed."

The tall employee pulled his safety helmet down further and looked several kilometers away.

"Forget about those dead dogs. Haven't you been to our new community yet? That place is simply paradise."

I followed the envious gaze of the tall employee.

Located in the heart of Guangming District, the former site of Dafeng Factory once represented endless exploitation and bloodshed in the old era.

It had long been flattened by the tracks of 100,000 engineering mechs.

What has now risen from the ground is a massive cyberpunk heavy metal-style building complex.

The words "Lingxiao Global Employee Benefits Community" are displayed in large, dark gold holographic letters, suspended hundreds of meters in the air.

Even under the scorching sun, it still exudes an oppressive aura of superiority.

The community is surrounded by a constant-temperature energy shield that emits a faint blue glow.

This cover completely shut out the scorching heat of 35 degrees Celsius and the pungent smell of burning tar from the outside.

The area is evergreen year-round, and even the turf laid along the roadside is a newly cultivated mutant variety from the Lingxiao Academy of Agricultural Sciences.

The air is filled with the fresh scent of fir trees all day long.

When you inhale it, even the alveoli feel soothed by this cool fragrance.

A silver maglev commuter car without wheels silently stopped in front of the tallest luxury apartment building in the community.

The alloy doors slide open to both sides.

Sun Liancheng, dressed in a neat black suit, walked down, rubbing his sore neck.

He spent over ten hours intently watching European satellites from the underground supercomputing center.

At this moment, his eyes were filled with terrifying red blood vessels.

My eyes were so dry, it felt like there was a handful of coarse sand inside, and even blinking made my eyelids ache.

"Director Sun, welcome home. Your heart rate is five percentage points higher than usual today. I suggest you relax immediately."

A soft halo of light flashed from the holographic AI butler at the door, its voice clear and pure.

"Your private repair therapy chamber is now filled with water and preheated. Dinner will be a specially supplied mutated snowflake steak, just flown in by air."

Upon hearing the word "steak," Sun Liancheng's Adam's apple bobbed sharply.

He swallowed a mouthful of sour saliva.

He casually tossed his dirty coat to the mechanical dog beside him and strode into his 300-square-meter duplex apartment.

Five minutes later.

Sun Liancheng lay naked in the top-of-the-line physiotherapy chamber filled with blue, transparent repair fluid.

The warm, viscous liquid enveloped his taut muscles perfectly.

The trapezius muscles in my back, which had been stiff for more than ten hours, twitched uncontrollably twice under the precise stimulation of microcurrent.

The tingling sensation seeping from his bones was so pleasurable that it made his scalp tingle.

He closed his eyes, exhaled a long breath, and all the pores on his body opened up at that moment.

This is the treatment one receives when their life is sold to the Lingxiao Consortium.

As long as you have any value to this machine, Master Yan can make your life as good as the heavens.

After a 20-minute physiotherapy session, Sun Liancheng, dressed in an expensive silk bathrobe, sat in front of the panoramic floor-to-ceiling window.

On the dining table in front of me was a piece of mutated snowflake beef, sizzling and dripping with oil.

The beef was grilled until slightly charred, releasing a rich and intense aroma of charred fat.

It was accompanied by a glass of premium red wine with spherical ice cubes.

A row of water droplets hung on the thin-bottomed glass, exuding an alluringly cool chill.

Sun Liancheng picked up his wine glass and took a sip.

The icy liquid flowed down his throat, sending a shiver down his spine.

He turned his head and looked out at the street outside the community through the one-way bulletproof glass.

Separated only by a light blue energy shield, they were like two completely different worlds, hell and heaven.

Outside the glass, several former nobles, their eyes green with hunger, wandered the streets like zombies.

The stench of sweat and rancidity, which seemed to waft through the glass, constituted a swan song of the old era.

Sun Liancheng squinted and recognized one of the figures.

That was a section chief who used to look down on him every day in the municipal party committee compound.

Previously, they blocked funding for Sun Liancheng's observatory, forcing him to act subservient for more than half a month.

The section chief is now skin and bones.

Beneath that tattered white shirt, clearly visible ribs were visible.

He was lying on top of a trash can on the outskirts of the community, frantically digging out the sticky, rotten residue inside with his hands.

Driven by hunger, the section chief even stuffed cardboard stained with yellowish-brown sewage into his mouth and chewed it desperately.

The upper and lower teeth were clashing violently.

His gums cracked and bled from chewing, and red and white foul-smelling foam dripped down his withered lips.

His eyes bulged out, like a starving ghost who had seen a ghost.

Sun Liancheng's stomach instinctively contracted as he watched this scene.

A chill ran up my tailbone and up to the back of my head.

The muscles on his thighs tensed slightly, and a layer of goosebumps rose up.

If only he hadn't gritted his teeth and swallowed that resignation letter he wrote to the municipal party committee.

Sun Liancheng is definitely one of those people who's out there fighting with stray dogs for those blood-stained cardboard signs.

He held a heavy sterling silver knife and fork in his hand and forcefully cut into the beef on the plate.

The blade sliced ​​across the porcelain plate with a dry, crisp "crack," a sound that tickled the eardrums.

The sharp blade sliced ​​through the crispy, charred skin.

Rich, bright red meat juices instantly seeped out from the incision.

"Tick-tock".

The crimson juice dripped onto the flawless white porcelain plate, like the dried blood of the former powerful and wealthy outside.

Sun Liancheng forked the piece of meat dripping with juice and stuffed it into his mouth.

The rich oil and tender meat exploded in his mouth, the aroma making his eyes water.

He chewed heartily, tilted his head back, and looked out the window at the towering skyscraper that seemed to pierce the clouds.

His bloodshot eyes were filled with a fanatical, morbid belief.

"This is what a human life should be like..."

Sun Liancheng swallowed the meat in his mouth, raised his wine glass, and offered a toast in the direction of the building.

"In Handong, all rules and laws are worthless. Lord Yan is the only god."

Just as he was reveling in the pleasure brought by absolute privilege.

The holographic butler on the table suddenly flashed a blinding red light, and the sweet mechanical voice turned cold and urgent at that moment.

"Director Sun, I apologize for disturbing your meal. Yunxiao AI just intercepted an anomaly alert from the lower levels of Jingzhou Prison."

The butler projected a dark red encrypted file package.

Sun Liancheng frowned and slammed the silver fork he was holding onto the porcelain plate.

"What kind of alarms could a prison have? It's full of social outcasts with no credit system. Do they need to report if a few starve to death?"

The butler's voice was flat and monotone as he mechanically read out the contents.

"The alarm indicates that there is an undocumented prisoner named Cai Chenggong who can't stand the treatment of being given rotten, hard cornbread every day."

"He's frantically banging his head against the wall in his cell, even threatening to go on a hunger strike. He's insisting on contacting the top executives of the conglomerate, saying he has top-secret information about the old debts of Dafeng Factory that he wants to personally report to Master Yan."

After hearing this, Sun Liancheng felt as if he had heard the biggest joke in the world.

He leaned back in his chair, chuckled, and his eyes were filled with the cold indifference of someone looking at a dead man.

"A hunger strike as a form of coercion?"

Sun Liancheng swirled the red wine in his glass, the ice cubes clinking together with a cold sound.

"Does he still think of the old Handong government as the one that followed the rules and valued human rights?"

"This undocumented immigrant, who can't even afford a clean meal, dares to threaten Master Yan with starvation? Does this idiot want to die too slowly?"