How much are your freedom and a few devices worth?

Old Butch felt conflicted.

As a man who had aged, endured many hardships, and carried the safety of the entire Waste Mine Society on his shoulders, it was inevitable that he would overthink and be suspicious of everything.

In his view, the hundreds of people in the Waste Mine Society were huddled together for warmth in the dangerous wasteland, and their only goal was survival. No matter the situation, being cautious and steady—even if it meant missing many opportunities—was far better than taking one wrong step and falling into an abyss from which there was no return.

He was, of course, incredibly grateful that the Governor had brought troops to save them. Without outside help, they all would have died.

But to be honest, what he had hoped for most was that the Governor would bring his troops, wipe out those bandits, and then leave. Even if it meant they had to pay a higher price, that would have been fine. He had considered the worst-case scenario: that taxes would double in two years, which might cause half the Waste Mine Society to starve, but that was still better than everyone dying.

Yet now, not only did the Governor not ask them for anything, but he was also willing to give them more, which made Old Butch feel deeply anxious.

If there was no cost, it might mean the cost was the greatest of all.

After listening to Gu Hang's speech, he couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement, and he had joined the crowd in cheering and showing his support.

Everything the Governor said was, of course, what he had hoped for—what he had dreamed of.

But...

Was it really possible?

The people of the Waste Mine Society had nothing but their brute strength. They had no technology, no equipment, and even their mine shafts were abandoned pre-war pits with low reserves and high extraction difficulty. If there were high-quality veins, how could they have ever fallen into their hands?

How could people like them pursue a better life?

Old Butch couldn't imagine it at all.

He didn't want to think this way, but he couldn't help but fear the worst, suspecting that Gu Hang was just feeding them empty promises and that, in the future, he might just bundle them up and sell them as slaves.

But he was no longer the leader of the Waste Mine Society.

The current leader, Patel, seemed brainwashed, fanatically trusting every word the Governor said. After the speech, the kid had been so excited that he had scurried off the moment the Governor beckoned, claiming they were going to discuss the grand plan for the future development of the Waste Mine Society.

He's being sold and is still helping them count the money!

Old Butch could only return to his cramped, musty little space and sulk in private.

He hadn't been sulking for long when his door was knocked upon.

He opened it, and Patel walked in.

The room was pitch black, and Patel asked, "Why haven't you turned on the lights?"

"Saving a little."

"According to the Governor, a happy life isn't something you can save your way into."

"Heh, you're full of the Governor now."

"He saved us."

"I never denied that."

"He is also going to bring us a bright future."

"Uh-huh." Old Butch was dismissive; he had already given up on trying to persuade Patel.

Things had reached this point; what else could he do?

To be honest, the Waste Mine Society had no power. Even if Patel listened to him, what could they do? Could they really rebel against the Governor?

Thinking of this, he felt even more disheartened. He asked listlessly, "Why aren't you busy discussing the grand plan with the Governor? Why come to see an old man like me?"

"We're done discussing. I came to ask for your help."

"So fast?"

"The Governor values efficiency."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Lead our people to the surface and build a settlement. We can't keep living in the mines for so long; the terrible living conditions will bring disease upon us."

"But..."

Old Butch was very hesitant.

Living on the surface would be great, of course. Who would want to live in a mine if they had a choice? In fact, the Waste Mine Society had previously planned to expand to the surface, and they had a camp there.

Then, they got beaten up by the Prisoner-Dead. The dozens of people who were captured had been taken from that surface camp.

The surface was too dangerous; with the capabilities of the Waste Mine Society, they couldn't defend it at all.

"I know what you're worried about," Patel said. "But we have the power to protect ourselves. The Governor will leave behind one hundred Servitor soldiers to be responsible for security here. At the same time, he will ship in one hundred sets of soldier equipment to select people from the Waste Mine Society and arm a company!"

Now it was Old Butch's turn to be surprised.

He had thought the Governor was just blowing smoke, but he hadn't expected that the man would be able to fulfill one of his promises immediately.

No, it should be two.

Arming the Waste Mine Society's own soldiers so they could protect themselves was one thing; going to the surface to build houses and improve living conditions was another.

The change was immediate.

On this matter, Old Butch had no way to refuse.

But he was curious about something else: "You want me to help with the construction of the surface camp, so what are you going to do?"

It couldn't possibly be military training. The Governor would certainly send his own people to handle something like that. Setting aside the issue of military authority, even if the Waste Mine Society were left to do it themselves, they didn't have anyone capable of the task.

"As for me..." Patel gave a mysterious smile, deciding not to keep him in suspense any longer, "I'm going to build our own production line. New mining machines will be delivered, along with alloy smelting furnaces. The Governor isn't just going to help us improve our mining efficiency; he's going to establish a direct production line for alloy plastisteel!"

Hearing this, Old Butch was truly so surprised that he couldn't speak.

Building an army and returning to the surface to live—these things were certainly wonderful, but to put it bluntly, they were just castles in the air. Relying on the Waste Mine Society itself, how could they ever afford to support a decent army? Wouldn't they still have to rely on the Governor for blood transfusions?

This was the core reason for Old Butch's pessimistic attitude; for the Waste Mine Society to live a good life, they had to possess sufficient value themselves. He never expected others to provide free, infinite blood transfusions to the Waste Mine Society; that was impossible.

Even if it were just a temporary attempt to win hearts and minds, it would be for the sake of greater profit. Whether it was to build a reputation or part of some darker scheme, it was never a good thing.

But now, he knew he was wrong—wrong to an outrageous degree.

Indeed, Gu Hang would not provide unlimited, free blood transfusions to the Waste Mine Society; he did have demands of them. It was just that what he required was something the Waste Mine Society was currently far from being able to afford.

But that didn't matter, because Gu Hang could allow the Waste Mine Society to develop. Once their productivity increased and their inherent value rose, they would be able to pay the price Gu Hang wanted.

Of course, by that time, the debt the Waste Mine Society owed Gu Hang might be far more than just a single life-saving favor.

But Old Butch was more than happy to accept it.

An opportunity like this was something he had dreamed of his entire life.

He had completely perked up, his previous worries long since cast to the back of his mind: "When do we start?"

Patel asked teasingly: "Didn't you say earlier that this was a curse rather than a blessing? And something about losing our freedom?"

Old Butch's face flushed red, and he stubbornly retorted: "You brat, what do you know! Is our freedom worth more than the equipment the Governor is bringing in?"

"Hahahaha!" Seeing his uncle's attitude do a complete one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn, Patel burst into laughter.

He wasn't mocking his uncle; he was rejoicing for the future fate of them all.