Besides Sanders, another person shared the same expectations—Frod.
Frod stood atop Skyvault Tower, gazing down over the entirety of Firstheart City.
Buildings of varying heights interwove with one another, and within every one of them, ant-sized people could be seen coming and going. In the distant Ocean Theater, a performance seemed to be underway; its beautiful choral music could reach the ear even from so far away.
To anyone, the first impression of Firstheart City would undoubtedly be one of prosperity.
But Frod had stayed here for a long time. He knew all too well just how fragile this piled-up city was beneath its prosperity. That fragility showed itself in every aspect: whether in its cultural foundations or its living environment. Even the trees by the roadside were dyed wooden carvings.
It was also because Firstheart City had only been established recently, and its newcomers were still adapting to the rhythm of life, that many flaws had been deliberately overlooked. But as time passed, these problems lurking beneath the undercurrents would inevitably be thrust into the open by the waves of public opinion.
The illusion could still be maintained for now, but how long could it last?
Frod had always been worried about this.
Including City Lord Meng Lu—because she stood high enough, she had in fact already seen through some of the truth. She often seemed to want to speak but held herself back before Frod. How could Frod fail to notice the signs? It was just that the problems City Lord Meng Lu considered urgently in need of solving were also beyond Frod's ability to resolve.
"I hope this situation can change today." Frod turned his gaze toward the distance. If Angel obtained the core authority today, perhaps he could solve these problems.
After all, the problems hidden