Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 1002: Section 648: Eastern Observations (Part 4)_2

Chapter 1002: Section 648: Eastern Observations (Part 4)_2

If Malin hadn’t known exactly what the Church of the War God truly believed in, he would have stepped in long ago to serve justice on behalf of the heavens.

According to the High Priest of the Church of the Goddess of Harvest, every day they had to go into the wilderness to gather mushrooms and fruits to dry and stockpile. Otherwise, when winter came, there would be no guarantee they could survive it—just like the previous High Priest. When Malin asked, it turned out that several predecessors had perished in winters past, having distributed too much food to the poor, leaving none for themselves.

Looking at this High Priest, there was no guarantee they wouldn’t meet the same fate one of these winters.

The members of the Church of the Goddess of Harvest carried no guilt in their hearts. For his part, Malin, as a red-robed High Priest, once specifically asked the Crown Prince about where all this faith tax ultimately ended up. The latter’s vague and evasive response, coupled with an explosively awkward expression, spoke volumes.

Whatever. It’s said that this tax has been collected for over a thousand years. Asking a pitiful Crown Prince about it probably wouldn’t lead anywhere. Malin could only laugh it off in the end, while planning to demand a complete ledger of the faith taxation lists for each church and diocese in the Eastern Kingdom. Once this matter was settled, Malin made up his mind to visit every single church, one by one.

"Your church roofs are leaking and crumbling from age? As the lords, shouldn’t you contribute some funds to give poor parishes a chance to hire free farmers to renovate them? After all, the Goddess of Harvest will grant abundant harvests to your lands (if Malin Gaiate doesn’t crack your skull first)."

Surely the nobles would understand the dire needs of the Church and open their wallets generously.

What’s that? You say you’re poor? Oh, no problem. You could always rally the wealthier folks in your domain to help donate generously. If even that couldn’t be achieved... well, Malin could only arrange for a group of bandits from the western wastelands near Sydney to drop by for a visit.

Yes, those very bandits who could fire volley guns, dig foxholes, wield recoilless rifles, and even boast powerful Transcendent combatants. Surely, they couldn’t belong to Malin’s private militia. Absolutely not.

By then, it wouldn’t just be about "fleecing the bird as it flies." A mere 20 or 30 percent? You’d better think carefully.

Life, after all, is the most precious thing, isn’t it?

......

Boarding the ship with veiled intentions of murder, Malin tucked away his thoughts and began listening to Mr. Meng’s usual boasting—it was a pastime of his as one of the seasoned veterans in the delegation. Sometimes, he ventured to other worlds—India and Southeast Asia, for example.

Contrary to what Malin had thought, there were actually surviving humans in those areas. In the Indian region, for instance, the entire Northern territory had become a battleground between the Dark Zone and Chaos. Within the Dark Zones, rogue Machine Souls and Chaos forces were locked in constant, vicious battles. Humans there were left undisturbed as long as they didn’t cross those boundaries, which allowed survivors to gradually adapt and grow.

So, these people, centered around Bangalore, began exploiting the ruins of the Eastern world. They salvaged usable materials from the battlefields of the Dark Zone and Chaos, piecing together a meager livelihood. Surrounded by powerful enemies, however, the region became untenable. Around five hundred years ago, they organized a fleet to venture eastward, hoping to enter Guangxi via Myanmar.

Malin had seen the route Mr. Meng traced on a map. Great heavens, it crossed Myanmar, Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam in one grand arc.

It did evoke a faint sense of their past glory as the world’s third great power, didn’t it?

In fact, they had indeed fought their way through. The region, already reverted to primeval forest before the Great Cataclysm, had few large cities left save for some coastal areas. Though the forest was certainly dangerous, it was at least free from rogue Machine Souls and Chaos. After jubilantly traversing this area, the Indians ran headlong into two Thainan army groups stationed near Guangxi—how convenient, they too had plans to scout and expand into this forest.

The Indians, oblivious to this, assumed the towns ahead were akin to survivor camps they’d encountered before. They were preparing for another looting spree when they slammed into a wall of guns and were utterly annihilated.

The Thanans later sent a fleet westward from the Malacca Line toward India, capturing prisoners and establishing diplomatic relations with the Indians. As for Sri Lanka and the Maldives... well, they were likely at the bottom of the ocean. Considering some islands had entirely vanished, leaving no underwater ruins, no one truly knew what had happened in those areas.

Regardless, relations between the Thanans and Indians were tense but not outright hostile—they could still conduct business.

"But Lord Malin, if you ever do business with Indians, remember to demand full payment upfront. If they’re short even a single cent, they’ll try to wriggle out of paying." Mr. Meng said this to Malin with an air of sage advice.

Malin was utterly perplexed—these Indians seemed to have a hereditary knack for dodging debts. Even after eight thousand years, they still conducted business this way: "With this kind of integrity, you still want to trade with them?"

"Well, proximity plays a role. Your people do pay swiftly, but if our fleet were to sink in the central seas, it would be total financial ruin. Unlike the Indians over there, where our pioneers recently discovered an old city called Yangon, efforts to clear the ruins have already attracted some survivor tribes. Once we finish clearing the city, we can establish a commercial hub there. And besides... we’re all human. These people’s civilization has degenerated completely—have you ever seen savages wearing animal skins? That’s basically them now."

Mr. Meng’s lament gave Malin some perspective—fine, he couldn’t even muster the energy to scold these savages for being savage.

"Have you found any other major human settlements?" Malin asked.

"Aside from the China Zone, we’ve found very few. Aside from South India... well, the northern Vietnamese settlements are counted as one. But after we reclaimed Guangxi from Chaos, we found only remnants proving those settlements once existed." Mr. Meng spoke wistfully: "My great-great-grandfather served in the military in his youth. He went there and said the place was littered with bones, so brittle they crumbled at a touch—clearly, it’s been a very long time."

"What about Hainan Island?" Malin asked.

"Gone..." At this, Mr. Meng turned to Malin, suddenly curious: "How do you know that name?"

"You’ve forgotten." Malin reached out to solemnly reintroduce Sostak No.3 and Jason to this skeptic.

Mr. Meng smacked his forehead: "Ah, my bad! Many places are missing—like the Strait of Malacca, Singapore half-drowned, and all the southern islands are either underwater or in some other dimension... The Great Cataclysm truly transformed our civilization. Lord Malin, surely you’ve heard of the story of the Earth Union?"

"Yes, it was magnificent, truly beyond imagination. Unfortunately, Fate did not grant us the chance." Malin sighed.

Truth be told, Malin had always been sighing—lamenting how Fate never gave humanity’s civilization a fair shot. Earth’s humans had been so close to leaving the Solar System and becoming the next advanced civilization to conquer the Starry Sea.

Leaning against the ship’s railing, Mr. Meng sighed as well: "All because of those so-called pseudo-gods. When the Evil Gods answered their call, they went mad. They claimed they had proven the existence of deities... Well, sure, gods are real, but there are both good and bad ones." At this, Mr. Meng lit a cigarette for himself.

"Do you Thanan people have faith now?" Malin asked with a smile.

"Of course, we believe in Master Wu and Confucius, and also True Lord." Mr. Meng smiled faintly: "I assume you’ve heard of Master Wu and Confucius?"

"Of course, I know them well. But who is True Lord?" Malin asked curiously.

To be honest, he had heard of True Lord before, but something about it felt different from the deities of the Western Human World—it didn’t quite fit that mold.

"Using the terminology of your Western Human World, True Lord is basically an Evil God." Mr. Meng’s comment left Malin wide-eyed in shock.

Hold on, did I just mishear that? Could you please repeat that—what did you say your faith was?!