The Despicable Higher-Ups

The elevators were temporarily out of service.

At this point, not only was there no way to storm into the Central District and rebel, there was no way for people from the Central District to come harvest Negative Emotions either.

Moreover, the Central District had begun sealing off its own Dreamscapes, while other areas of the Lower District had started restricting circulation as well. Those opportunistic district chiefs were now closing their passages too, making Chen Yu feel as though he were watching a massive fermentation tank brew before his eyes.

Except it was not wheat juice inside, but vast amounts of Positive Emotion. The entire place kept building pressure, then with a "bang," it would send him flying into the sky.

Others still had somewhere to flee, but this Positive Emotion clung to him like a disease in the bone. Even if he wanted to run, he could not.

Pulling the chief inspector over, Chen Yu gritted his teeth and asked, "Who do you think bombed the elevator?"

"Though there's no evidence yet, I'm certain it was the higher-ups in the Central District," the chief inspector said firmly. "And most likely third-class or second-class citizens."

"Then why did they blow up the elevator too? Can they afford tens of millions in compensation? Don't bring up insurance—they still have to pay even if they're insured!"

The chief inspector was about to analyze the situation when a weak voice rang out. "They probably want to kill all of us in the Eighth District."

Deng Zixing, pale as death, sat up. His body was like grilled gluten with the skewers removed, limply slumped sideways against the sofa.

He had no backing and had entered the Inspectorate entirely through his exceptional professional skills. Three years of mock exams and five years of college