This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 702: The Vacuum of Order

Chapter 702: Chapter 702: The Vacuum of Order

Lowell Camp.

The recent heavy rain had washed the bloodstains lingering in the mud into puddles by the roadside, with the fragrance of earth carrying an undispersing scent of blood.

However, the people here seemed to have long been accustomed to death, to the point where the blood that stained the streets appeared almost trivial.

In front of the gate blasted open by the 100mm cannon, a crowd of poor onlookers had gathered thickly.

Among them were residents from the nearby streets, newly-rescued slaves, and the militias of the First Corps of the Avengers Alliance standing guard at the camp’s entrance.

At this moment, at the center of the crowd, stood ten militiamen.

Their arms were tied with white gauze to identify them, and their hands were bound behind their backs with plastic strips. However, their facial expressions varied greatly—some showed anger, others indifference, some defiance, and others a nervous hesitation, sensing imminent disaster.

Not far from them, lay two bodies, a man and a woman.

The man appeared to be in his early thirties, the woman around twenty-five or twenty-six, likely a couple. The former had his abdomen sliced open by a bayonet while the latter bore a bloodied hole on her forehead. Both bodies showed clear signs of bruising and injuries and seemed to have suffered considerably before death.

Next to these two bodies, two disheveled girls wrapped in barely sufficient blankets were curled up on the muddy ground, shivering. Their faces, void of expression, were marred by tears of fear and stupefaction, mixed with mud-like stains.

It seemed they had forgotten how to cry, emitting sounds intermittently, much like fish stranded ashore.

Seeing the disarmed militia patrol, the bodies on the ground, and the two girls wrapped in blankets, Brother Shabi, who had just emerged from the camp entrance, could guess what had happened even before confirming with the four players standing beside the girls.

"What happened?"

Mountain River Entering Dreams stepped forward, retracting the visor of his helmet, and glanced at the disarmed group before reporting the situation truthfully.

"...We were taking shelter from the rain near Blackwater Street when we suddenly heard a gunshot. By the time we got out, we saw those guys coming out of a house."

The action recorder had a complete record of the event.

He didn’t want to describe the situation in great detail; suffice it to say, these few had done what even beasts wouldn’t.

From the expressions of the players present, Brother Shabi could roughly guess what had transpired and turned his gaze to the militiamen tied with white strips.

Although they couldn’t understand what the players were discussing, those militiamen could certainly recognize murderous looks.

The leader immediately panicked and shouted, trying to defend himself.

"That man! He is a jailer of Lowell Camp! We found an Empire rifle and jailer’s uniform in his house!"

"Can you prove that his rifle and uniform weren’t just picked up? And who allowed you into their home!" Brother Shabi glared at him fiercely. "Even if he were a jailer, even if he committed unforgivable acts, what does that have to do with his family?"

The expressions of the militiamen clearly showed they were unrepentant, even their gaze toward him carried a trace of incomprehension.

The leader didn’t speak, but another man stepped forward.

"We went in to take shelter from the rain! And... didn’t you also go in? I saw them coming out of a civilian house!"

Saying this, the man turned and looked toward the four players who had disarmed them, his face showing resentment.

Brother Shabi looked at Mountain River Entering Dreams.

His expression paused, and he awkwardly explained.

"We did go inside, but we truly just went in to take shelter from the rain... and I even paid them; that family can vouch for us. No, if you don’t believe me, I can turn on the action recorder; I had it on the whole time."

Zero Rush’s face changed.

Damn!

If they played this here, wouldn’t he be utterly ruined?

Fortunately, Brother Shabi did not do so but merely fiddled with the VM device, probably discussing with other players how to handle the situation.

Seeing that things seemed to be getting interesting, the crowd around them gradually grew, all pointing and discussing with enthusiasm.

"Iron Man" and the group of gun-toting slaves had started to quarrel among themselves.

They were merely curious how this drama would end.

There was also the man lying on the ground—apparently, some recognized him, as several nearby survivors whispered excitedly to each other.

"Abusik might indeed be a jailer from Lowell Camp, someone mentioned it before—though I think he said it himself."

"How come I heard he shined shoes?"

"Forget it, that guy is just a porter and a boastful drunkard. Maybe by tomorrow he’ll claim to be the emperor’s Imperial Guard."

"He has money for booze?!"

"Where does he get money! He squats at the dock every day collecting leftovers from the sailors. Last time I saw someone pee in a bottle for him, he picked it up, tasted it, and actually drank it all, then told us Vellante wine tastes weirdly sweet."

"Ha ha!"

"Poor has daughters, they’re cursed following their old man, tsk tsk."

"They actually look pretty, just a bit dirty."

"After such an ordeal, they definitely need comforting, heh heh."

Then, a car honk was heard from behind the crowd, and a desert-colored off-road vehicle with a machine gun welded on its roof drove by.

The crowd swiftly made way.

The car door opened, and Fang Chang jumped down from the vehicle, ignoring the onlookers, and walked straight to Killer Dagger.

"I’ve gathered the situation, where’s Laxi?"

As soon as he finished, a man with a crew cut came from the direction of the camp entrance, bowing respectfully as he approached.

"Sir, were you looking for me?"

His arm was bandaged in white gauze, and he carried a "Blade" assault rifle on his back, his cheek marked by a fresh, unscabbed scar, likely from yesterday’s battle.

Fang Chang narrowed his eyes slightly, fixing him with an intense stare.

"My brother asked you to control your men, is this your idea of control?"

Laxi looked stunned, glanced at the body on the ground, then at the few individuals with their hands tied behind their backs, and finally back at Fang Chang.

"I heard they killed soldiers of the Empire."

"I heard he was killed in his own home," Fang Chang gave a cold laugh, "and their bayonets were from trouser belts?"

Laxi paused briefly.

Then, he walked up to the ten disarmed militiamen, gesturing with his chin towards the two bodies on the ground beside the two girls wrapped in blankets.

"Did you do this?"

His eyes were like those of a wild beast, void of any emotion, which made it hard to tell whether he was angry about the atrocities committed by his men or sympathetic towards the plight of the poor girls.

As those soul-sucking pupils stared down at them, the breathing of the Centurion became rapid, and he eventually looked away.

"...I was wrong."

Laxi nodded as if accepting the explanation, walked away a few steps, then suddenly spun around and disengaged the safety on his rifle.

The sudden move startled the onlookers, including the ten militiamen being pointed at by guns, all of whom froze, temporarily forgetting to plead for themselves.

Laxi had no intention of hearing their pleas or even giving them a chance for last words, he pulled the trigger without hesitation.

Just as a burst of gunfire erupted, those ten militiamen, hands bound, fell into a pool of blood like punctured balloons, trembling as if electrocuted.

"Ah!!"

Witnessing the bloody scene, the surrounding crowd screamed and backed away, two girls sitting on the ground stared as if their souls had departed.

Having emptied his rifle’s magazine, Laxi threw it on the ground, pulled out his pistol holstered at his waist, and finished off the still-breathing man with the remaining bullets.

Complete silence fell over the scene.

Whether it was the militiamen standing at the camp gate or the players standing to the side, everyone lost their ability to speak, watching this madman’s actions.

Fang Chang slightly narrowed his eyes, pondering silently within. He neither stopped Laxi’s actions nor praised him for being correct.

Brother Shabi stared at Laxi, holding his breath for a moment before suddenly stepping forward and shouting loudly at him,

"What the hell are you doing!"

"Calm down, brother. They messed up, and now they’re dead."

Driven back by that aggressive gaze, Laxi’s face showed no fear as he continued to speak logically,

"If you’re still not satisfied, I can pull out the others from their hundred-man team and execute them too."

Brother Shabi’s eyes widened.

"Have you lost your mind?!"

Laxi, puzzled by the shouting, fell silent for a while before suddenly blurting out,

"Isn’t this enough?"

Brother Shabi stared at him, speechless for a moment.

In a sense, this man had efficiently solved the problem, yet it seemed as if he solved nothing at all.

But as he had said,

The people were killed, their lives paid for.

Wasn’t that enough?

Those who died were slaves anyway, free for just a day, having nothing but their lives to compensate.

"It’s enough."

Fang Chang suddenly spoke, breaking the tense atmosphere at the scene.

He walked up to Laxi, patted the mad dog’s shoulder, then his tense face, and smiled to ease the atmosphere,

"Good kill, they indeed deserved it, but the method was too sloppy. You need to establish rules, tell your subordinates what not to do, and what punishments they’ll face if they do, instead of executing everyone in the square. Otherwise, you can’t convince the masses."

Laxi nodded respectfully.

"Yes!"

His respectful and compliant demeanor was flawless. Fang Chang glanced at the corpses on the ground and spoke slowly,

"Take a few men and bury them."

Laxi acknowledged the command, turned around to pick up his rifle, slung it over his shoulder, and summoned a few subordinates to carry the bodies away for burial.

It seemed the problem of convincing the masses never really existed.

The soldiers did not harbor discontent towards this leader who had executed their comrades; on the contrary, their gazes became even more reverent and submissive.

None of this was beyond Fang Chang’s expectations.

They, just released from their cages, were not fully human themselves, and as beasts who believed in the law of the jungle, they naturally tended to follow the more ferocious one.

Watching Fang Chang leave from beside Laxi, Killer Dagger hesitated for a moment but couldn’t help but speak up.

"I think we should at least give those people a legal trial, this is actually a good opportunity to use them for propaganda—"

"Forget it, the people are dead, what’s the point of judging those few corpses? The one who most deserves a trial is still hanging from the watchtower."

Interrupting Killer Dagger, Fang Chang squinted at the prison governor hanging from the watchtower, being pecked by crows, and continued patiently.

"What you’re talking about is too advanced for them; they’re still in a relatively primitive jungle society and don’t need that stuff yet. Don’t forget, did we ever waste time trying looters before ensuring all the survivors in Qingquan City had clean clothes to wear? That’s something to consider after everyone is fed and warm."

"My only requirement for them at this stage is to obey, just listen to us, that’s the only requirement. Even if their discipline is utterly terrible, it’s definitely better than that emperor who could send 5% of the population to concentration camps."

"As for the rest, we can’t be too hasty."

The violence of the militia was partly vengeful backlash from the oppressed who suddenly found their backbones, but mostly it was the inevitable result of a vacuum of order.

The aftermath of this violent uprising was far more than just a few typical cases that were caught.

The rebel army would be restrained out of concern for the Alliance’s stance, while those thugs who picked up weapons from fleeing soldiers would only be crueler and more unrestrained.

At this moment, in that dark alley, it was unknown how many tragedies were happening.

To fundamentally solve this problem, it was necessary to establish a new order locally to replace the old one from Niyan’s time as governor.

He was actually doing just that.

Director Bihari was in the process of taking over all policing in the city with his cronies, and the training of the militia was also proceeding in an orderly manner.

They weren’t doing very well, but it was enough.

Once the new order was established, they just needed to ensure the local survivors had enough food, clothes, and houses... If they could live just a tiny bit more dignified than during Niyan’s time, this new order would naturally gain enough legitimacy in the eyes of the locals to maintain governance.

It actually wasn’t very difficult.

A certain accursed emperor had left them a large sum of money which was perfect for this cause.

Taking all that money home would also be somewhat ungracious.

After deducting the compensation, to "borrow" it under the name of the Baiyue Corporation and invest in the locals would not only earn a good reputation for the Alliance and Potato Harbor but also make a profit.

"What about them? How should they be handled?" Killer Dagger glanced at the two girls slumped on the ground, then looked at Fang Chang.

Whatever macro solutions there might be, they still needed to solve the immediate problems.

At least he believed they needed to be resolved.

Pairs of eyes all around watched.

Fang Chang was silent for a long time before he sighed.

"Give them two boat tickets..."

Perhaps the survivors of Potato Harbor could help them start anew, just like the survivors from Home of the Refugees.

Apart from giving them some financial compensation, sending them away from this land of strife was the best solution he could think of for now...

...

As the corpses at the gateway of Lowell Camp and the two unfortunate victims were taken away, the surviving onlookers who had gathered at the camp gate also gradually dispersed, their interest waning.

Although the attitude of those "White Cloths" who couldn’t toughen up against the "Iron Men" left everyone feeling a bit dull, they were ultimately pleased to have witnessed some action.

That fellow called Laxi was ruthless, killing his own people without even blinking an eye, as tidily as slaughtering chickens.

Those young fellows who were executed had truly met a tragic fate; originally it was nothing serious, at most a compensation of two pigs, but they unfortunately caught the bullet.

There was also—

I realized that getting shot didn’t mean instant death, but rather, it was like fish thrashing in the blood for a while before dying.

Everyone was very pleased, feeling the spectacle was worth their while.

As for those two girls wrapped in blankets, their fate was equally a matter of concern.

Some said they were spotted by the Iron Men, otherwise, there was no reason to take them away and not simply let them go home.

Others speculated they would be secretly disposed of, considering the huge favor the Iron Men owed.

Everyone wracked their brains, trying to make sense of the incomprehensible oddities.

At least they tried.

Watching the chaos outside subside, Han Mingyue pushed the car door open and got out, casting only a glance at the blood on the ground before indifferently continuing towards the camp’s entrance.

Waiting there, Fang Chang looked at her a bit more surprised than usual.

"Aren’t you scared?"

In his experience, apart from the "corrupted" disciples of the Enlightenment Society, most of the Blue Jackets on the Wasteland had an unusually strong sense of morality.

He had even braced himself for an NPC’s rebuke, but the anticipated reaction didn’t occur at all.

Instead, he was the one making a fuss.

"Do you think the Great Desert is some peaceful, nice place?" Han Mingyue retorted nonchalantly, "Besides, I’m here to study this place, so how could I not know the state of the survivors here?"

That seemed to make sense.

Fang Chang understood instantly.

She viewed the people here probably no differently than Heya viewed Xiaoyu.

As they entered the Lowell Camp, Mrs. Han looked around with a sparkle of avid interest in her eyes.

"It really is this place..." she murmured.

"This place?"

Fang Chang took a look around.

Apart from stacks of pigeon cages and a series of open iron gate doors, there was nothing particularly notable about it.

But Mrs. Han clearly thought differently.

She took a photo of the surroundings and continued with a thoughtful expression,

"...According to the data I’ve collected in the Great Desert, this place used to be a scientific research station. During the three-year war, a battalion from the Human Alliance Army escorted a large group of refugees from the Southern Industrial Zone here and maintained order for a considerable period during the early Wasteland Era."

Fang Chang’s curiosity peaked at this odd revelation.

"Is Lowell the name of that battalion leader or the research station?"

Mrs. Han explained,

"It’s the battalion leader’s name; he was called ’General Lowell’. I found some grievances and accusations about him from the survivors in the cached data of a signal relay, including demands for the Human Alliance authorities to replace him. The complaints continued until the end of the three-year war, but it seems they were futile."

"According to the time-stamp in the server, the last message was sent by General Lowell himself—it seems he intended to report his work to the Post-War Reconstruction Committee or possibly defend himself. Unfortunately, the Reconstruction Committee never received this message, nor had the capacity to manage the survivors in the distant Poluo Province."

"In that message, General Lowell mentioned that apart from necessary coercive measures taken for survival, he had adopted some special methods to feed the local survivors, including forcing researchers to study how to make soil edible and coercing some survivors to act as guinea pigs for testing."

"What’s surprising is his scientific team actually managed to utilize the research station’s equipment to synthesize a unicellular organism that could degrade biological remains. After treatment by this microbe, the soil would turn reddish-brown and could be made edible with simple filtration."

"Unfortunately, the project was only halfway through when Lowell Camp erupted in violent rebellion. The rebelling survivors buried General Lowell, his researchers, and their research findings in the wilderness north of the camp, near the Everflow River... That area must have been frozen ground at the time, and they expended a lot of effort to dig a sufficiently large pit. If I’m not mistaken, there should be a red soil area to the north of Jinjaron Harbor."

Fang Chang asked, puzzled,

"Why would those survivors oppose him?"

Han Mingyue casually responded while looking toward the open space nearby where mud cakes lay spread out on stone slabs to dry.

"Materials don’t appear out of thin air, they only flow from one cycle to the next. Why don’t you guess how the organic matter needed to synthesize ’red soil’ is acquired?"

Before Fang Chang could venture a guess, she continued,

"People need to continually fill the red soil with organic remains such as bodies and feces for it to continuously ’grow’. Otherwise, it would just grow slowly."

"From a carbon fixation standpoint, this isn’t more efficient than cultivation, the only advantage is it’s less trouble. General Lowell didn’t actually solve the fundamental issue. He probably read some ancient books and, with a naive wish, did what he thought was a good deed, only to be dismissed by the not-yet-insane first-generation survivors."

Well, goodness.

Burial soil?!

Fang Chang’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his stomach churning just from hearing about it.

Yet the researcher acted as if nothing was amiss, even curving her lips into a meaningful smile.

"Yet ironically, although nowadays General Lowell seems like a well-intentioned fool, and somewhat stubborn, those survivors’ descendants are clearly even more foolish and have discarded the dignity of civilization. His wild ideas matched with a bunch of even dumber folks somehow made their lives quite enjoyable."

"Then, in your opinion, is there a better solution?" Fang Chang was a bit curious about what good ideas a sociologist could have.

With a slight smile, Han Mingyue said,

"I think your methods are pretty good, your Manager is a pretty decent person, doing the right things at the right times without trying to leap straight to the finish... As for specific ideas, my research leans towards theory, I can only offer suggestions for your reference, nothing direct."

She paused, looking around, then continued,

"I need to stay here a few days. Although most of the original buildings have been demolished, there should still be some useful clues to find... Can you guarantee my safety?"

Fang Chang offered friendly advice,

"I suggest you stay at the port, where we actually control the area. This place could become a frontline at any moment."

Han Mingyue agreed succinctly.

"Okay, I’ll go with your suggestion."

...

The day after the Dolphin delivered the second wave of supplies and researchers to Potato Harbor, Duke Garava at The First Hospital of Dawn City finally woke up from his bed.

Before he could fully open his eyes, the anxious cry filled with eager anticipation "plopped" at his bedside.

"My lord! Have you woken up?"

Memories from before he passed out flooded in like a tide. Duke Garava, seeing his servant Niyan kneeling by the window, reached out his trembling hand and grabbed his arm.

"Jin..."

He tried to voice the words stuck in his throat like a drowning parrot.

Niyan immediately understood the expression on his face and hurriedly said,

"Don’t worry, my lord! I have sent someone to inform His Majesty about the situation in Jinjaron Harbor! If all goes well, he should be at Silver Moon Bay by now, and using the radio station there, we can contact the scouts on the east coast of Poluo Province. His Majesty should know about the situation here by tomorrow at the latest!"

Hearing this, Duke Garava breathed a sigh of relief.

The city defense force of Jinjaron Harbor was indeed useless, but the Empire’s army was far more than just city defense. Those drunkards were even less than cannon fodder.

As long as His Majesty is informed, the Grey Wolf Army stationed by the Everflow River could easily drive the people of the Alliance into the sea within minutes.

He admitted that this time he had miscalculated and was caught off guard by the Alliance, losing ground both on the map and in terms of morality.

But that didn’t matter.

As long as they could take back Jin Galun Harbor, they would have the initiative in the ceasefire negotiations, and then everything would be negotiable.

A reassuring smile appeared on his face, Duke Garava nodded slowly and released Niyan’s arm that he had been holding.

"You did well... When it matters, I can rely on you."

It’s just a pity about his low status.

Otherwise, he had considered promoting this bright-minded individual, perhaps assigning him to a powerful position of some sort.

Niyan smiled shyly, with a flattering tone.

"It’s all thanks to your excellent guidance, my lord."

Duke Garava nodded slowly and looked up at the pristine white ceiling, silent for a long while, then finally spoke.

"Where is this?"

Niyan hurriedly replied,

"This is The First Hospital of Dawn City, the best hospital in the vicinity."

Seeing that Niyan had stopped speaking, Babru, who was standing nearby, finally saw his opportunity to chime in, with a heavy tone, he added,

"The doctors here say that you have a heart problem and recommend a bionic heart transplantation to cure it completely. They have offered two sets of quality options—one from Huge Rock Military Industry and the other from Ideal City—"

There was actually a third option, to implant a biological prosthetic.

But that option was too avant-garde, seemingly suitable only for the Residents of Shelter No. 404 or those infected with "mutated slime fungus," hence the doctor only mentioned it in passing.

However, before he could finish, he was abruptly interrupted by a reprimand.

"Shut up!"

Niyan glared fiercely and aggressively said, "Do you want the Alliance’s doctors to cut open and disembowel our Duke?! What is your intention!"

Babru opened his mouth wide, dumbfoundedly staring at Niyan.

He had no hidden intentions; he was just fulfilling the duties of a servant by faithfully relaying the doctor’s words.

Yet, flustered and tongue-tied in his nervousness, he was unable to formulate a clear response; sweat began to dot his forehead, making him seem all the more suspicious.

Duke Garava, lying in bed, involuntarily twitched the corner of his mouth.

He had been somewhat tempted by the promise of a cure for his chronic heart condition, given that money was no issue. But hearing about cutting and disembowelment scared him.

That would involve cutting into his body; it was no joke.

Who knows if the Alliance’s doctors would take the opportunity to do something to him.

If Chu Guang merely hinted with a glance, the doctors might obediently stab his major artery, and then he would have no grounds for complaint!

Seeing the worry on Duke Garava’s face, Niyan considerately leaned closer and whispered in his ear.

"... My lord, I’m worried the Alliance might tamper with your heart during the procedure. Your condition can be managed with careful treatment and medication, but if the Alliance controls your heart, who knows when it might fail you."

"Heh, I anticipated this... those insidious and cunning bastards, how could I fall for such a clumsy trick."

Relieved inwardly, Duke Garava glared at Babru standing nearby, then looked at Niyan and calmly continued,

"Has anything happened in my absence these past few days?"

"Nothing significant, my lord. Minister Cheng did come to visit you once, but you were unconscious at the time, and he left after a short while."

At this point, Niyan suddenly remembered something.

"Right," he exclaimed, "the newspaper you instructed me to buy, I’ve got it for you!"

Having said that, he grabbed the neatly folded Goblin Observation Report from the bedside table and diligently handed it to Duke Garava.

This was the edition from several days ago.

Duke Garava’s complexion had somewhat recovered, but as soon as he saw the exaggerated headline, his sallow face instantly turned bright red.

"Goblin Observation Report: Cried, I just touched you, and you chased me for two thousand kilometers?!"

"...The Burning Corps landed at Jinjaron Harbor, and within just a morning, the city defense forces were beaten into a scurrying mess, with both the harbor and the Governor’s Mansion falling into enemy hands."

These damned things...

It’s utterly intolerable!

Duke Garava felt a darkening before his eyes, the room spinning around him, and his strength leaving his shoulders as he collapsed backward, his head soon sinking back into the pillow.

Babru and other wolf clan guards saw this, hurried forward, and snatched the newspaper from his tightly gripped hand.

"My lord! My lord!"

"Quick, give him mouth to mouth!"

"Are you a pig? We are in a hospital! Go call a doctor quickly!" Niyan shouted as he pushed up against Babru who was leaning in to give mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

The latter panicked and ran out the door without stopping to think about who had caused the Duke to faint, yelling down the corridor.

"Doctor!!!"

Just as the doctor hurried toward the ward, in the Imperial Palace of Tiandu on the west coast of Poluo Province, a roar echoed in the majestic grand hall.

"Scoundrels!"

Throwing the telegraph down the steps of the palace, Witch Gu’s face burned with murderous rage, and his mustache quivered beneath his nostrils.

The boundless imperial might pressed down on the shoulders of the courtiers, who prostrated themselves trembling, not daring to make a sound.

The content of the telegraph was the original copy of the Goblin Observation Report, detailing the events that had occurred in Jinjaron Harbor a few days prior.

What infuriated Witch Gu was that Alliance troops had landed at Jinjaron Harbor several days ago, and he, the Emperor, had only just found out!

If it weren’t for his emissary being in Dawn City and having urgently sent him this newspaper, he would still be oblivious to the situation!

Pain wracked Witch Gu’s heart as if a knife were stirring within, nearly drawing blood from gritted te

Niyan, the Governor, was his confidant, earning him over a hundred million Dinar per year, and now was a prisoner under Alliance’s step.

Not just that.

Billions of Dinar residing in the bank of Jinjaron Harbor had now also fallen into the hands of those bandits!

Very well!

Witch Gu ground his teeth with a creaking sound.

He had only intended to teach those people a lesson, but he hadn’t expected them to be so audacious, daring to target his money pouch.

Clenching his trembling fist, Witch Gu let out an uncontrollable roar at his prostrate ministers.

"Issue my command!"

"Effective immediately, the entire Grey Wolf Army is to head to Jinjaron Harbor!"

"Tell General Arai Yang, I don’t care what methods he uses! No matter the cost! I want the Double Knife Flag raised on top of the Governor’s Mansion again!"