At the same time, Blue Star, Eagle Kingdom East Coast.
A black bulletproof special service vehicle without any conspicuous national emblem slowly parked in front of a heavily guarded heavy machinery factory.
The car door opened, and what came forward was the worker leader who had put on Smith's coat on a stormy night a few months ago. The man was wearing neat and neat flame-retardant work clothes, and wore a double-digit anti-counterfeiting "Regional Special Affairs Pass" on his chest. He stretched out his hand to shield the people who walked out of the car door from the harsh sea breeze in the factory area.
"Mr. Donnie, please come this way."
Donnie's eyes stayed on the pass for half a second, his expression was calm and he didn't say much.
The stamp of the issuer in the lower right corner of the pass clearly bears the name Smith.
A few months ago, Smith was sitting in this dilapidated factory building. He detained the arrogant consortium figure Morgan and the then state director in one fell swoop, and took tens of thousands of fully awakened lower-class immigrant workers to force him to Taking over the defense of the whole state. Since the closed-door video call that determined the power structure, the federation and the major autonomous prefectures can only maintain a fragile balance by relying on temporary agreements. The thick top-level power transfer document has been changed one version after another, and delayed one round after another.
The personnel have been shuffled for a long time, but no one dares to really reveal who should pay, who should sign, and who should give orders.
Today, the titular head of the federal government finally arrived in person.
Both sides of the avenue in the factory area were in full swing.
A lean young worker held a high-precision CNC machine tool weighing several tons with his bare hands. He waited until the heavy-duty suspension shock-absorbing base below was completely aligned before he relaxed and put it down with one hand. On the other side of the avenue, several young militiamen who had just come off the assembly line from Virtual Stealth Center were holding backpacks and laughing side by side. They were arguing fiercely about which Tier Three Battle Regiment should be signed up to charge with the team tonight.
The ninety-six core members who followed Smith in the uprising have now been dispersed to the defense zones of various counties and cities as tactical instructors;
More than a dozen people followed Smith on his bloody journey to open up wasteland, and suddenly crossed the chasm-like threshold of life of Tier Three.
This source of violence, which was born purely from the soil, factories and work sheds, is growing wildly in this fragmented country at an alarming rate.
When Donnie opened the office door, Smith was hunkering down at the desk, signing customs clearance instructions for a thick transoceanic freight manifest.
After not seeing each other for several months, this old warlord, who used to have a face as dry as a tree, not only did not show any sign of his age, but instead his shoulders were as straight as a green pine, his eyes were deep and bright, and his whole body exuded a faint aura of majesty.
As early as Tier Two, he had already gotten rid of the old illness that had accumulated for half his life; in the following months, he led the team to fight and repeatedly polished the Psionic Circulation in his body. The reborn life sublimation at level 60 made this body glow with vitality far better than before.
Now he has steadily reached [LV.63] in the sequence of the Divine Body Expeditionary Army. After entering Tier Three, his career is still that formidable [Storm Monarch].
The pen on the bureaucrat's desk certainly doesn't give him any supernatural power;
But after truly mastering this almost divine power, the cold will in his bones to completely grasp the rules is much heavier than any politician.
"Wait a moment, Mr. President."
Smith handed the signed document to the administrative assistant beside him without raising his head:
"Let it be released according to the original framework. As for the transit surcharge that Atlantic Port Authority disputes, a separate list will be sent to the cabinet for arbitration. Do not let the freighters carrying rare earths and industrial energy storage media accompany them in the anchorage."
The assistant bowed to accept the order, and the heavy solid wood door closed silently.
There was a brief silence in the office.
Donnie casually opened the leather chair opposite and sat down. He gently pushed a thick agreement with a red and white seal to the center of the desk:
"You know better than anyone that everywhere is calling for a central agency with arbitration power to settle these bad debts."
"So I have always supported retaining the highest coordination mechanism."
Smith smiled faintly and poured him a cup of concentrated black coffee calmly.
Donnie did not touch the coffee cup. His old fingers turned directly to the core terms of the last few pages of the agreement, and tapped his fingertips on the table:
"You have withheld more than 70% of the industrial tax revenue at the local level. The standing militia only obeys the direct dispatch of your local defense zone. The seaports, main line railways and refineries are all taken over by your trade union committees. But whenever interstate highways are cut off and there are disputes over freight settlements, protest calls all come to my red line phone."
Donnie looked directly into those eyes with a faint thunder light and said in a low voice:
"Optical cable trunk lines must be maintained throughout the territory, customs inspection standards must endorse each other, and commercial and trade documents on the other side of the ocean need Unique's sovereign seal. Smith, you can't just enjoy the legality dividends brought by the central government's fig leaf, but not allocate a penny or give it to anyone."
Smith's smile was slightly restrained, and his eyes were as cold as ice:
"We can pay for the shared funds for stability maintenance that should be shared. But the one you added... must be completely erased."
Smith's index finger pointed at the core supplement on page seven.
It clearly reads: [Joint Affairs Executive Agency enjoys the direct command and control over the armed forces stationed in each franchise area when encountering an emergency].
Donnie met his gaze and refused to give in:
"If East Coast encounters a large-scale cross-state disaster and urgently needs personnel to repair transportation and energy facilities, do we still have to report to the higher levels and wait for you to hold a meeting for approval?!"
"Joint Emergency Defense Corridor has clearly demarcated it in advance, and each state will send troops to the joint defense according to quotas." Smith said in a cold tone, "Beyond the scope of the corridor designated by the agreement, and without the signature of the local defense zone, no soldiers can be mobilized."
"What else is that called the federal unified command system?!"
Smith's body leaned forward slightly, and those pupils reflecting the thunder pierced Donnie like an eagle:
"Mr. Donnie, even if I sign this piece of waste paper to you now... Which state will listen to the order you issued when you walked out of the Congress today?"
Bang.
Donnie The muscles in the corners of his eyes twitched violently, and his fists quietly tightened on his knees.
The air in the office instantly solidified into frost.
Outside the window, the freight rail car crashed and roared heavily, and the sound clearly hit the two people's hearts through the soundproof glass.
After all, it was the gravity of reality that tore apart the arrogance of politicians.
Smith restrained his sense of oppression and did not continue to trample on the veteran politician's final bottom line. Instead, he reached out and gently turned the agreement back to the public finance chapter:
"There is no room for negotiation on defense and sovereignty. However, for common affairs expenditures across the territory, on behalf of the East Coast Alliance, I will fully subscribe to the 30% quota; the corresponding communications, transportation and foreign-related technocrats will be stationed in the Capital Special Administrative Region on time next Monday."
Smith picked up the coffee, took a sip, and said calmly:
"In the past few months, trade unions from all over the country have joined in. East Coast Alliance alone has hundreds of thousands of registered standing teams and reserve militiamen. I can afford the money, but I also need to let the factory's high value-added foreign trade orders go abroad smoothly."
Donnie stared at the huge number of funding figures, the lines on his face changing for a long time.
Finally, he pulled out the Parker pen from the lining of his suit and signed a line of hard clauses below the budget attachment:
"The joint public finance account must be subject to independent liquidation by Federal Audit Office, and the flow of funds must be disclosed to the whole region. There must be no farce where the local council signs and pledges on the agreement today, and then completely freezes the funds next quarter with the words 'financial stress'."
Smith lowered his head and reviewed the supplementary terms twice, and a gentle smile of a superior appeared on the corner of his mouth again:
"Deal."
The large holographic screen in front of the desk flashed and lit up one after another.
The figures of the new military leaders who have taken over several large grain and mining states in the Midwest, the union representatives of several heavy industry metropolitan areas on the southern Gulf Coast, and the top executives of several extraordinary defense groups reorganized from the ashes of the old chaebols are all solidified in the holographic light screen.
This is a historic treaty with no oath, no national anthem, and even no unification flag.
In this era that is completely torn apart by personal force and the evolutionary opportunities brought by the other world, no fanatic will naively offer absolute feudal allegiance to another strong man.
What they care about is the elite battle groups, underground factories, and millions of people under their control who are waiting for food.
The "All-Territory Joint Affairs Executive Act" that I just wrote is just the final conclusion of this irreversible "Loose Warlord Confederation System" in the most honorable legal form.
The federal title is retained, the Supreme Court is retained, and the fictitious Parliament is retained.
And the central administrative team in the hands of Donnie will serve as the super logistics coordination manager among the princes of this huge empire in the long years to come - Unique.
When the ink of the pen was about to fall on the final signature column, Donnie's fingertips holding the pen paused imperceptibly.
Smith leaned on the leather high-backed chair, folded his hands, and looked at him with deep and calm eyes:
"Mr. Donnie, congratulations."
"This federal president... of course you can continue with your current situation with peace of mind."
Donnie's lips curved into a sneer that was both self-deprecating and bitter:
"After such a big turn of events, I became a professional butler who stays in front of the stage like you military leaders and is responsible for answering phone calls and settling accounts?"
"Someone has to do these chores, right?"
Smith smiled and said:
"Compared to those old bureaucrats who talk about 'national justice' all day long, but secretly use public funds to resell military supplies... you are at least a qualified professional manager who has a brain and knows how to settle accounts."
Donnie looked at the pair of cold and scrutinizing eyes of the hero on the screen, and let out a long breath of stale air in his chest.
It is in charge of the largest legal accounts in the entire territory and maintains Unique's mediation channels among major regions.
This is ten thousand times better than keeping an empty house White House that can't even pay the electricity bill.
rustle.
The tip of the pen crossed the paper, and the writing was penetrating into the wood.
Half an hour later, the black special service bulletproof vehicle drove out of the heavy factory area again.
The accompanying press spokesman gingerly handed a copy of the nationally televised speech with a bold title to the back seat:
"Mr. President, this is the first draft prepared for the Washington media. The first paragraph emphasizes that 'White House has finally restored its unified leadership of the armed forces of each state after arduous negotiations...'"
"Burn the first paragraph on the spot." Donnie didn't even lower his head to look at it, he closed his eyes to rest.
The spokesperson was dumbfounded on the spot. "Sir, how do you determine the external caliber..."
"Truthfully reported: "All-Territory Joint Affairs Executive Act" is officially signed and comes into effect."
Donnie opened his eyes, looked through the bulletproof car window, and stared at the rows of heavy-duty convoys in the factory area, loaded with refined raw materials, heading towards the main highways throughout the country:
"Keep a close eye on the appropriation lists signed and pledged by each state and the list of professional and technical personnel. As long as these warlords cannot do without global settlement, bulk foreign trade, and cross-state logistics... the power and accounts handed over to us will never be just a piece of waste paper."
The old man straightened his wrinkled tie, and his eyes reappeared with the calculation and tenacity unique to politicians:
"Turn around and go back to the special zone."
At the same time, the president was sent away in his motorcade in the office.
The worker leader knocked on the door again and walked in quickly, holding a thick stack of junior employee files with fingerprints in his arms:
"Sir, Donnie signed, then the Cross-Regional Personnel Mutual Recognition Agreement we were holding back will be fully effective today?"
Smith glanced at the name on the application form at the top.
It was the student transfer application of the leader's sister, and the family planned to follow him to settle in a newly built comprehensive extraordinary university in the Great Lakes region. These worker families who were the first to follow him in the uprising had already received legal treatment as high-level citizens of the region, but due to the conflicts between the various states, relocation had been blocked by all parties.
"Immediately issue an enforcement notice, and the entire territory will be processed according to the newly adopted two-way digital vouchers. No difficulties are allowed."
The team leader was relieved, but immediately hesitated and looked slightly embarrassed:
"Sir, there is one more thing... The Third Defense Battalion has two good seedlings who have just broken through Tier-Two Peak. Their families want to move to the agricultural area of West Coast. They have also applied for retirement and job change."
"The supervisor of the Training Department has some objections. He said that the guild spent a lot of high-end aggregates and practical resources on them, and they haven't gotten back the money yet. He wants to... take away their Special Operations Qualification Certificate and ID cards first..."
Smith's hand that was looking through the files suddenly stopped.
He slowly raised his head, and there was a terrifying coldness in his eyes, like thunder solidified:
"Who gave him the right to seize people's IDs?!"
The team leader was startled and waved his hand quickly. "Not yet! The supervisor was also thinking about defense expenses. He just came to me privately to talk to me..."
"Go and tell that idiot supervisor to settle the accounts for the advance payment of resources from a business-to-business basis according to the standard contract. Follow the procedures that should be followed, and no one is allowed to withhold their certificates."
Smith leaned back on the chair coldly, tapping his finger bones heavily on the solid wood tabletop:
"What did we rely on to oust Morgan, the Blood Sucking bunch of bastards who were lying on the bones of the workers?! We relied on people! We relied on contracts! We relied on treating the bottom class as human beings!!"
"If I were to follow the methods of the old plutocrats today and use the barrel of a gun to detain the awakened warriors as private property in barbed wire fences... then what the hell would be the difference between me and Morgan who was sitting in the office counting money back then?!"
The team leader was shocked, his eyes were slightly hot, and he stood at attention solemnly. "Yes! I'll do it right away!"
Smith took a deep breath, restrained his murderous aura, and pushed a people's livelihood budget that had been prepared at the corner of the table into the team leader's arms:
"This quarter's expedition spoils dividends will be paid in full and on time to the accounts of each worker's family. In addition, the newly planned Full-Time Comprehensive School on the west side of the factory will have an additional budget of 20 million for teachers and teaching equipment."
The team leader glanced at the end of the thick budget sheet and was completely stunned:
"Sir... for this new school, we need to recruit hundreds of top real-life mechanical tutors, biochemistry professors and language scholars? We will even open ordinary grammar classes?!"
"Are you really going to let your little daughter, who has just turned ten years old, follow us every day from now on, and besides entering the virtual game to kill bugs with Bone Blade, she can't even speak a complete sentence in reality?!"
Smith stood up and stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window with his hands behind his hands, overlooking the entire orderly modern industrial park.
Outside the window, the dilapidated and rusted old factory buildings have been painted with new and bright paint. At the door of rows of spacious and bright lecture halls, several young immigrant mothers are holding their children's young hands, carefully exchanging them for formal school admission certificates stamped by the district.
"The tribe that only knew how to kill with swords could not survive three years in the old era. In this extraordinary era... it cannot even survive three months."
Smith turned around and stared at this old subordinate who had followed him in bloody battles till now:
"As long as senior engineers, senior doctors, special teachers in real life are willing to bring their families to settle here, we can negotiate the full price of their house, annual salary, and the ration quota for their immediate family members in the game!"
"Build your home like a paradise, and soldiers will fight for their lives on the front line; live a dignified life, and I don't need to keep my ID, and they themselves will rush to put down their roots here!"
The team leader faced the commander's burning gaze, straightened his chest, and grinned:
"Sir, our whole family... will never leave in this life!"
"Go back to work."
Smith laughed and cursed, waited for the door to close again, looked down at the budget gap that was carefully calculated by Donnie, and couldn't help but rub his temples in pain.
This newly-appointed "worker-beating president" will have to be squeezed hard to do more dirty work in the future.
Buzz.
The foreign-related red encryption Terminal in the corner of the desk suddenly lit up at this moment.
On the other side of the ocean, Dragon Kingdom Ministry of Commerce just transferred the long-term rare earth and deep-sea biological sample procurement memorandum with a stamped receipt. The wording was plain and rigorous, and Eagle Kingdom did not even say a word about the violent reshuffle of the domestic political situation, as if this side of the ocean was just an ordinary overseas supply point, even if the world was turned upside down.
At the bottom of that foreign trade newsletter, a top-level science and technology newsletter that had just been refreshed and released to the world instantly grabbed all the attention of Smith--
[At dawn today, Dragon Kingdom National Space Administration announced: 'Guanghan Pioneer One' heavy-duty unmanned lunar surface engineering detector has been successfully transferred to Wenchang One Launch Pad and has officially entered the final launch window!]
In the picture, a heavy-lift launch vehicle towers into the sky like a pillar of heaven.
The heat-insulating fairing is slowly closing under the encirclement of the robotic arm.
And deep in the huge cargo hold, a set of ultra-high-power Lunar Surface Power Module, which is connected to a high-density spiritual energy storage module and exudes a mysterious blue luster, is quietly dormant on a shock-proof base, pointing directly at the vast moon above the sky.
Smith stared at the miraculous steel totem on the screen, speechless for a long time.
After a long time, he slowly closed the account book in his hand, sighed self-deprecatingly, and shook his head with a wry smile.
When the tycoons and politicians on this side of the ocean were still fighting over the tolls of several factories and ports covered in mud;
That ancient civilization on the other side of the ocean...
Already quietly, the fire given by the gods to mortals has been pushed to the forefront of the endless sea of stars.