"We can't miss this opportunity."
"But this could be a trap. At the very least, it's a wrong path."
"But it also holds possibilities. Our race's innate talent values are too low. Most people still have no real combat power even years after becoming superhumans, making them utterly incapable of dealing with the disasters of the multiverse."
"Anxiety breeds radicalism, and excessive radicalism brings death."
"How do you decide whether this is radicalism or decisiveness? Only later generations can make that judgment. If we miss this opportunity, how will they judge us?"
Lu PingAn's guess had, all along, been reality.
Even when he obtained the authority to establish a special zone—a nation—in the heavens, the nation below, its decision-makers, legislators, and officials, were still locked in fierce debate.
But that did not affect the project's orderly advancement.
Or rather, no matter how fiercely they argued internally, certain work continued as normal.
The skeptics, those with reservations, the unconcerned, and the extremists all felt that this plan carried far too many hidden dangers. Humanity was too fragile and insufficiently prepared, so every side argued itself into a mess.
Yet the frontline soldiers of the military districts had already completed the First Batch of Species Transformation. The Research Department produced reports every day, and all kinds of data were updated daily.
"So this was a case of cursing the loudest while charging ahead the fastest?"
Lu Mouren had even directly listened to a recording of a meeting. One local legislator had berated him for a full twenty minutes, slapping every label imaginable on him—ambitious schemer, madman, dangerous element. Yet that man's two sons had secured internal Species Transformation slots in the First Batch and become Dragonkin.
It was contradictory, but also all too real.
Adults often had positions and labels to uphold.