Chapter 159: Chapter 135, On the Verge of Collapse_2
“Understood,” Perbov said, “I will lend you a hand. But similarly, I hope it doesn’t come to the point of drawing knives and guns, my forces will stop twenty kilometers outside of Rubbish Town. The rest is up to you. If things don’t go smoothly, I will wait for the 2nd Infantry Division to arrive before proceeding.”
“That will be enough.”
…
Henry appeared to be in control during his conversation with Perbov, but in reality, he was extremely anxious.
Because he had calculated his own timing.
Mostly on foot, the distance from Revival City to Rubbish Town was a little over two hundred kilometers. At a normal marching speed, quickly it would take three to five days, at a slower pace, it would at most not exceed ten days.
Combining this with the phrase left by the governor, this was the time he was given to handle Rubbish Town.
He had to hurry.
Fortunately, with Perbov’s Composite Camp in action, the speed was somewhat guaranteed.
This Composite Camp was almost completely motorized. Even the clumsiest 155mm howitzers had wheels fitted and were towed by trucks; all the soldiers, including the engineer company and logistics support company, had transport trucks and supply trucks at their disposal.
In the troop, the slowest and most dragging unit turned out to be the Armored Company.
The twelve old tanks chugged along in the back, only able to move at a speed of twenty kilometers per hour, chugging along, making one fear they would break down along the way.
In fact, this situation did occur.
Midway through, a tank indeed broke down.
But this did not affect the overall pace of the troops. Leaving some repair personnel and crew behind, the rest continued smoothly over a distance of fifty kilometers, arriving at the outskirts of Rubbish Town.
By then, it was late at night.
The troops stopped in situ, setting up camp, while Dennison Henry, accompanied by a small retinue and guards, went forward to meet the scouts who had cautiously come from Rubbish Town to check out the situation. After explaining things to them, he then entered the town with composure.
Those who came out to reconnoiter did not disperse, still surrounding Perbov’s forces in the darkness.
Perbov was not concerned.
He had dispatched sentries and guards; as long as these people did not get too close, they were welcome to watch from the periphery.
This calm demeanor further intimidated the outsiders peering in from the edges.
Of course, what was most intimidating were those large cannons, armored vehicles, and tanks that could not be seen clearly in the darkness, but were decidedly present.
Add to that the soldiers’ discipline and well-trained appearance, the onlookers clearly understood that although this troop was not large in number, its combat power was formidable.
Considering the background of the newly appointed agent, Mr. Henry, who could not guess that this was a force from the New Alliance, under the command of the esteemed governor?
…
The next day, Dennison Henry met the person he wanted to see.
His name was Jason Swan.
He was a man with strands of white in his hair, his face stern, his brows and eyes fierce, weathered, and seasoned.
He was the biggest agent in Rubbish Town.
In his youth, Jason Swan had already been mixing it up in Rubbish Town. Initially, he was just an ordinary scavenger who was willing to fight and struggled to lead a small adventure group. Later he became the boss, and then he built that small adventure team into an organization, seized a portion of the refined materials business, and later opened up some trading routes…
He became an agent, then gradually the biggest one.
It might only take a few sentences to say, but from the age of fifteen to now, thirty-five years later, he experienced countless acts of treachery, life-and-death struggles, to reach his current position.
He controlled Rubbish Town’s largest initial processing plant for raw materials, had a 20% share in commerce, and the adventures group he built his fortune with, called ‘Clockwork Iron Blade,’ was one of the top armed forces in Rubbish Town.
Industry combined with military power composed the prestige of Mr. Swan.
He was always serious and stern, presenting a dignified front to people, and even in the recent troubled times, he had maintained this attitude, which to some extent had a stabilizing effect on the people’s hearts.
Actually, whether he was truly panicked or not, no one knew.
Dennison Henry had met Jason Swan before, not just once.
In every past encounter, he had been as meek as an ant. Even after his nomination to serve as the proxy, the state of their relationship had not changed.
Stripping away the new industry of alloy plastic steel he controlled, Henry’s actual power paled in comparison to that of the real big shot in Rubbish Town.
But today, he had to change his way of thinking, to stand up straight.
He represented the Governor!
His mindset had already begun to shift.
Behind me stands the ruler of the entire planet; once the Governor took control of Revival City, that ruler was no longer just a title but was backed by tangible and formidable power.
With such a strong backing, why should I grovel to a mere armed merchant leader in Rubbish Town?
I was simply too used to kneeling before!
Swan seemed to sense something and lifted his head. His gaze, sharp as an eagle’s or a wolf’s, swept across Henry’s face. He began to speak in a somewhat hoarse voice:
“Are you here to persuade me to surrender to that Governor in Revival City?”
Henry’s calves still felt a bit weak, and his mind involuntarily flashed with many rumors of Swan’s ruthlessness and decisiveness.
He wasn’t someone with a sturdy backbone at all.
But he still tried his best to maintain his dignity.
“Yes,” he said, “Do you have any other choice?”
“I could kill you,” Swan said indifferently.
Henry’s heart clenched at those words, but then he relaxed a little.
At first hearing, it sounded scary, because Jason Swan did indeed have the capacity to do it.
Yet, upon closer analysis, it became apparent that Mr. Swan was merely posturing.
Because if, a month ago, Henry had dared to speak of surrender, Mr. Swan would probably not have wasted half a word with him before blowing him away.
Now, by saying he could kill him, it was actually a sign of Swan’s own apprehension.
Instantly grasping this, Henry felt somewhat more relaxed.
“Of course, you could do that. You might consider yourself the master of Rubbish Town. What difficulty could there be in killing someone like me?” Henry complimented along Swan’s line, but then his tone shifted, beginning a new line of persuasion: “But that’s not called a choice.”
Swan said no more, just stared at Henry.
But Henry was getting more heated as he spoke: “Isn’t Rubbish Town in its most vulnerable state right now, both externally and internally? The proliferation of the Green Skin Orcs causing a decline in production is the least of the impacts. When those scavengers, those adventurers realize that the danger of entering the high tower ruins has greatly increased while the rewards have diminished, will they still gather here? Especially when Revival City has now intensified its attractiveness to the displaced, with very tempting policies.”
“Without these scavengers and adventurers, what will happen to the industries that rely on them? The taverns, brothels, and haberdasheries will all close; the primary processing industries for the rubbish will collapse; the once-thriving trade will no longer be sustainable, and ultimately Rubbish Town will become a real dump, unattended and forgotten.”
“To destroy Rubbish Town, we don’t need the Green Skin Orcs to break through our defenses and slaughter our people. They just need to maintain this pressure, make scavenging a high-risk, low-reward venture, and that alone will be enough to destroy our town built on picking through trash.”
Henry outlined the crisis from an economic foundation.
Swan just listened in silence.
It wasn’t anything insightful.
This danger, some had already foreseen, was even already beginning to unfold.
Most of Rubbish Town’s adventurers and scavengers didn’t have much personal attachment to the proxies. A minority was on a hiring basis, and a considerable number were independent adventure groups. They went into the ruins of the city, scavenged, and sold for basic profits; if they found usable technology from before the war, artwork, or relatively intact Spiritual Energy crystals, they could make a fortune.
Now, the risk of adventuring had increased due to the confrontation with the Green Skin Orcs, and the returns were visibly diminishing. They were also specially conscripted to fill the most contentious battlefronts. Although offered bounties and equipment, the fight was still too tough, and many adventure groups refused conscription, even leaving Rubbish Town in entire bands.
The departure wasn’t yet widespread or on a large scale, but it was an extremely dangerous sign, a precursor to the dam’s collapse.