Chapter 573: People’s Choices |
Hughes looked helplessly at the Banshee beside him.
She was clad in full heavy armor; except for the few scales on her tail, nearly every part of her body was concealed beneath the metal plates. Not to mention her face—even her eyes were barely visible.
This was the newly designed armor Castel had created specifically for the Banshees. Its appearance had undergone significant changes—a large, exaggerated shoulder plate was added to accommodate the six arms of the Banshee, and a cylindrical storage compartment had been installed on the back.
Based on Hughes’s first design, the armor’s coverage area had been expanded, and its thickness increased. Even the weakest part now exceeded 30 millimeters, comparable to the armor plating of a World War I tank.
At present, the Banshee was a true, living humanoid tank.
Such heavy armor could fully withstand the fire of heavy machine guns. Now, when charging, the Banshee no longer needed to deliberately avoid the suppressive fire of the Mortal troops behind her—she could truly rampage across the battlefield.
Although her face could not be seen, Hughes could easily sense, through the Symbiotic Contract, the expression hidden beneath that cold steel mask.
“Una, even you have learned bad habits now.”
Hughes’s face was full of pained helplessness.
But somehow, after putting on this full set of heavy armor, she had become strangely cheerful. To be honest, her personality online and offline were entirely different.
If only she could stop talking behind his back while on duty, that would be perfect.
“Una, I’ve actually been curious—how do the Banshees view me?”
“Uh… Lord, we talk through the Mind Link. Don’t you see all of it?”
“I can’t keep up!” Hughes looked exasperated. These Banshees could talk endlessly. Aside from the official work group, their chat groups were constantly flooding with messages.
“Especially that one—‘Banshees Are One Big Family’. Every time I finish reading one message, dozens more appear! I simply can’t keep up!”
And the Banshees didn’t just have one group chat. The hundred of them had formed far more than a hundred groups, each one full of lively chatter. The Mind Link truly wasn’t wasted on them.
Hughes couldn’t help but glance at Una again—calm, aloof, tall, and silent like a statue.
Who would imagine that while she appeared so composed, she was simultaneously chatting in a dozen groups?
“Well, most of us don’t really care much about that. Whether you’re a god, a sage, or just an ordinary person doesn’t matter to us. When you first said you weren’t a god, we already understood your will. That is far more important than your identity itself.”
Hughes raised an eyebrow in surprise.
The Banshees, it seemed, cared least about origins. After all, they were born as slaves, and had broken their chains with their own six hands. What they valued most was their own will—what kind of person they wanted to become.
Hughes never wished to be a god; he was, and always had been, a mortal. Once the Banshees understood that, they no longer minded.
“Of course, some people do care. Like Nini—she was furious, saying her best news material had vanished!”
Nini’s underground press had been unusually quiet these past few days, naturally due to Hughes’s orders. The hearts of the people in Castel and Blood Harbor were already unstable—if she wrote a few more sensational reports, the place might actually explode.
Knock, knock, knock.
Someone knocked at the door. Una glanced at Hughes, then stepped forward to open it. Gaia squeezed in, her arms full of documents.
“The political commissars in each factory have finished their talks with the workers. These are their reports. Oh—and this section’s just the index. The detailed reports could fill half a room.”
“That many?”
“That many indeed. The workers were very enthusiastic during their talks with the commissars—eager to declare they didn’t mind changing their faith. Some even clung to the commissars, refusing to let go.”
“Did you tell them I’m not—”
“I did, I did. I told them you’re not a god, and that you have nothing to do with any heretical cults, evil gods, or old gods—but whether they believed it or not, that’s another matter.”
“They didn’t believe it?”
Gaia chuckled. “Boss, nearly all your workers have gone through Advanced Classes. Most of them have even joined The Imperial Truth. Some can recite the Holy Text backward. The concepts of transcendence and cognition are clearly written there—it’s all your own teaching, after all.”
Hughes covered his face.
Indeed. To resist cognitive interference, his workers were all highly educated. Strictly speaking, they weren’t any less knowledgeable than the industrial workers back on Blue Star in the twenty-first century.
After all, even modern factories didn’t require workers to understand the full principles of the production process.
That education brought clear advantages—fewer accidents, stronger initiative—but it also meant one thing: they were not easily fooled.
“No one openly questioned it, right?”
“Not really. The workers are quite reasonable. I think they’re just treating you like a Machine Soul.”
And how did one deal with a Machine Soul? There was no set rule—but most workers had reached a single conclusion:
You had to appease it.
“Whether in Castel or Blood Harbor, your prestige is still intact. Even before the Tribunal incident, there were already some messy Secret Societies around, but nothing’s gone wrong. In fact, stability has improved. According to the commissars’ reports, the factories’ organizational cohesion has even strengthened. It seems… like a good thing.”
“It’s not a good thing,” Hughes said seriously. “If they truly see me as a god, then while it might increase my authority, it would weaken the authority of science. And my authority can never override the laws of physics.”
Gaia froze for a moment, frowning as she thought, then slowly nodded. “You mean…”
“Strengthen scientific education. Organize collective learning sessions for the workers, and encourage them to continue studying and advancing.”
“That sounds like a vicious cycle—the more we teach them, the more they’ll question, and the more trouble we’ll have.”
“Even so, we must persist! If we compromise for the sake of convenient rule, we’ll eventually degenerate into another Church. When that day comes, the light of The Imperial Truth will fade, Castel will fall under the rule of some Church, and they’ll proclaim science to be heresy. Can you accept such a future?”
Gaia pressed her lips together, her gaze gradually firming.
“I understand, Lord.”
She was loyal not only to Hughes himself but also to Castel.
Before this, she too had her worries—after all, Hughes’s behavior in the Tribunal had indeed been strange. If the Lord truly bore another hidden identity…
The people of Castel each had their own suspicions and their own choices—but in the end, they all chose to believe in their Lord, Hughes.
Gaia was merely a fisherman’s daughter. Her life’s path should have been to marry another fisherman. Hughes had changed her fate—and she was willing to dedicate her life to repay that.
Now, it seemed, her choice had not been wrong.