In a secret military base in the eastern district of Xiang City, White Crow, dressed in a pristine white robe, slowly walked past the rows of worshippers drilling.
She was over thirty, and crow's feet from years of exhaustion and constant travel creased the corners of her eyes. Her skin had lost its elasticity and glow, but that couldn't hide her lovely features. Her bright eyes, high nose, and full lips still hinted at the beauty she had once possessed.
She was always smiling, forever gentle and kind. She could be found in poor neighborhoods and places recently struck by disaster, offering relief on behalf of the Church of the Scales. Every worshipper loved and respected her. Some superstitious fools even saw her as a goddess incarnate—though the Scales had deliberately encouraged that belief.
The people in the formation were men and women, young and old. They wore light clothing of varying age and condition, but their eyes all held the same fervor and determination.
When someone had lost everything and was left with nothing but their own flesh and a heart full of hatred, they often came to value life lightly and revenge dearly.
And when the object of revenge was a colossal power that embodied the hatred of countless people—say, the Federation government—that hatred took on a tragic, noble quality. Anyone could cast themselves as a hero sacrificing their life for an ideal.
Of course, it couldn't be denied that most people in this era had no ideals. Simply staying alive was exhausting enough, let alone finding the energy to think.
They had no idea what kind of world they would build after overthrowing the Federation, or how they would make their demands after causing unrest. But that didn't stop them from being stirred up by slogans and