A single overdue bill can shatter a life; they torch economies and toast with 1945 Romanée-Conti, laughing as the ashes settle on our doorsteps."
Tiger's voice cracked like a whip through the smoke of burning barricades, raw with centuries of stolen breath. "Do you see the cosmic joke carved into the marrow of this world? One man hoards wealth enough to buy countries—stacked in offshore vaults, digital dragons guarding pixels of power—while another sells his blood plasma to keep the lights on.
One heir snorts lines off a supermodel's ass in a zero-gravity fuck-suite orbiting Earth, his cock serviced by lips paid in private islands, while a father skips meals so his child can taste protein once a week.
If the pauper defaults, the bank seizes his hovel and auctions his children's future. If the prince defaults, the bank kneels, renamed in his honor, its board fellating his legacy with bailouts measured in billions."
Tiger paused, his gaze drifting upward, lost for a moment in the flickering light of a half-broken bulb. "Tell me, Ethan," he murmured, voice heavy with scorn, "why does one man get to have so much that he couldn't spend it all even if he threw gold away every second — while another man can't afford to rest for a single day without risking his family's life?"
He lifted his gaze to the bruised sky, where once-private jets now plummeted like flaming Icarus corpses. "The scales were forged crooked, brothers and sisters. The law was a whore in their bedroom, legs spread for whoever paid most. But listen—" His fist clenched, knuckles white as bone.
"Entropy has answered. The old order is carrion. In this apocalypse of teeth and fire, the rigged game is ash. Now the board is blank, the pieces scattered in blood and rubble. We, the dispossessed, the starving, the ones who know the taste of concrete and despair—we rise. Gather the survivors. Forge the weapons. We will gut the undead hordes, reclaim every inch of scorched earth, and plant our banners in the ruins of their palaces.
We will build a regime not of birthright, but of shared scars and shared bread. Our children will inherit not debt, but dawn. They will drink from rivers we purified, fuck under skies we cleared of smog, and know justice as a blade in their own hands, not a collar around their throats."
His eyes blazed, twin suns in a face carved by fury and vision. "This is the philosophy of the new world: from the ashes of their debauchery, we forge equity. From the silence of their graves, we birth a chorus of the living. The hour is ours."
He stepped closer to Ethan, his eyes blazing like a man possessed by his own dream. "Once we unify the land, our names will echo across generations. Our descendants will live in glory — not as slaves of a broken system, but as the rulers of a new dawn."
For a moment, silence hung in the air. The faint sound of gunfire in the distance, the groan of the undead somewhere far beyond the walls, all seemed to fade.
Ethan listened quietly, his expression unreadable. Inside, however, his mind was sharp and alive — every word Tiger spoke, every flicker of emotion in his tone, was being analyzed. He understood Tiger's dream, even admired its ambition… but he also recognized the danger in it.
Dreams like Tiger's were made of fire — beautiful from afar, but burn too close and they consume everything, even the dreamer.
Still, Ethan said nothing. He smiled faintly — the kind of smile that gave away nothing. His quick mind had already begun to weave through the possibilities, mapping the future even as Tiger basked in his speech.
In a world where hope was a corpse and law was dust, Ethan knew one thing for certain — only those who played smarter than the monsters, human or otherwise, would survive.
Luke sat quietly to the side, his eyes slightly narrowed as he listened. He hadn't expected Tiger—a man who looked more like a back-alley brawler than a visionary—to harbor such grand ambitions. His words, however crude, carried a strange charisma that could almost make sense in this broken world. William, too, was caught between disbelief and discomfort. He glanced briefly at Ethan, trying to read his expression but finding only calm detachment.
Ethan, for his part, was momentarily surprised. He hadn't come here to join a warlord's dream or build an empire from ashes. His only goal had been clear: reach Long Hai City's enclave, hand over the helpless women to the government for safety, then find a few reliable allies to help him search for his parents. That was all. His heart wasn't set on conquering cities or forging new nations. Not yet—not without his family by his side. Maybe, just maybe, if they were alive… and if the world demanded it… he could think of something bigger. But not now.
Tiger's eyes burned with zeal as he leaned forward, his voice heavy with conviction.
"Those who steal a purse are hanged, but those who steal a kingdom are crowned in glory! Ethan, think about it—look at the history of the world! None of the great rulers were born noble. They made themselves noble. The Roman Emperor Diocletian was once a mere soldier. Napoleon Bonaparte came from a poor Corsican family and rose to command Elarion. Nurhaci of the Qing was born a servant—yet founded a dynasty. And Genghis Khan…" He paused dramatically, letting the name linger like thunder. "He was an outcast, a starving boy hunted by his enemies—and still, he built the largest empire the world has ever known!"
His words echoed with passion. Even the flickering lamp light seemed to dance with his voice.
"They did all that without technology, without modern weapons, without an army of steel and fire like we have now! They had no satellites, no rifles, no armored trucks—just willpower and blood. And now, look at us! Educated, armed, connected, aware! Don't tell me, little brother, that we're any less than they were!"
Luke shifted uncomfortably. The way Tiger spoke reminded him of those desperate preachers who once stood on street corners, calling for revolution. Yet, in this world of decay and chaos, his words sounded almost believable.
Tiger continued, his tone taking on a calculating edge.
"Even if we take ten thousand steps back and fail to build a regime, as long as we gain enough power, we'll still live like kings. We can join whatever new force rises, and they'll welcome us with open arms. Look at history—every time a dynasty fell, the warlords who held territory and soldiers were granted titles, wealth, and women by the new rulers. But the common people? They lost everything. When regimes change, those without power are nothing but dust underfoot."
Ethan nodded slowly, pretending to ponder Tiger's logic. The truth was, everything Tiger said made sense—but only in the mouth of a tyrant. His reasoning was sharp, but the gleam in his eyes betrayed his true desire: domination, not salvation. Ethan had seen men like him before—wolves wearing the clothes of survivors.
While Tiger spoke, Ethan's gaze drifted briefly to the women nearby. Their faces, beautiful yet weary, were framed by candlelight. Their beauty was undeniable—graceful features, soft lips, and eyes that once held dreams now dulled by fear. In Tiger's world, they were ornaments, tools to flaunt or trade. And that alone told Ethan everything he needed to know. To him, there was no difference between men like Tiger and the old-world elites he condemned. Both enslaved others—just under different flags. Honestly, he was worse since they were at least keeping it under wraps.
Ethan's mind raced, but outwardly, he remained calm. He gave a faint, thoughtful nod, as though he were considering Tiger's offer seriously. Then, in a measured tone, he said, "Boss Tiger… have you considered what happens if the government hasn't truly fallen? If they're still standing—somewhere? One order from the central command, one battalion sent out, and this village of yours could be reduced to ashes."
His voice was quiet but sharp, carrying the weight of reason. "You've got rifles, submachine guns, and a few trucks—good tools, but your men? They're not trained soldiers. They shoot with bravado, not discipline. If the real army moves, they'll crush you before you can load a second magazine."
Ethan's words hung in the air, the faint metallic clatter of distant weapons serving as grim punctuation. He didn't know where Tiger had scavenged all those Type 81 rifles and Type 79 submachine guns—likely from abandoned armories or dead police stations—but the truth was clear. His forces were rabble with guns, not warriors with purpose.
Even with the system of the God and Demon strengthening his body, Ethan wasn't foolish enough to think he could take on a full company of soldiers. A single well-placed rocket, and even he could be torn apart.
Tiger's laughter burst through the silence like a gunshot. "Ha! Little brother Ethan, you still believe in the old world? The government?" He smirked, shaking his head. "You have too much faith in ghosts. If they were alive, they would've sent out messages by now—official broadcasts, orders, anything to reassure the people. But what have we heard? Nothing! Not a whisper. It's been over half a month since Long Hai City sent their broadcast. If the central government was still standing, they would've reached out long ago. I'm telling you—the capital is gone. The old world is dead. What's left is this: power, food, and guns."
He leaned closer, voice dropping to a persuasive tone, almost fatherly.
"Ethan, if you join me, I'll make you the Fifth Master of Always Bright Village. You'll stand right below me, Lei Chen, Zhang Xiang, and Chen Yan. You'll have your own men, your own power, your own authority. And when we go out again to search for survivors, you'll get first pick—three of the most beautiful women. Any you desire."
The room fell silent. Even Luke and William glanced at Ethan, waiting to see how he'd respond.
Ethan's expression softened slightly, though his eyes remained cold and sharp beneath the calm surface. He waited a few seconds, then said slowly,
"Boss Tiger, I appreciate your offer. Truly. But I have unfinished business. My family is in Nanning. I must find them—alive or dead. After that, I have to visit the families of my friends. I can't stay. Not yet."
For a brief moment, Tiger's smile faltered. A glimmer of something dangerous flashed in his eyes—cold, calculating, like a beast assessing prey. His leg twitched under the table, a subtle tremor betraying his frustration. Then, with a deep breath, he let out a long sigh and forced a strained smile.
"Fine," he said finally, his tone softer but the menace beneath unmistakable. "You're a righteous man, Ethan. A man who values love, friendship, and family. I can respect that, even if I don't share it. Each man has his own path, his own ambitions. I won't force you."
He paused, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "But before you leave," he added with false warmth, "I have a small request. Just a favor between brothers."
Ethan's gaze sharpened immediately. His instincts, honed by survival, whispered that this "favor" would not be simple. Still, his tone remained calm, polite, unreadable.
"Boss Tiger," he said slowly, "please tell me."