As Ron's senior steward, Bayev was well aware of the current situation. He detailed the areas presently under the control of the Royal Court, its military, population, and hostile forces.
Besides the Spire Court, Ron controlled approximately one-third of the Upper Hive, commanding a planetary defense force of over 50,000 men. The remainder of the Upper Hive was ruled by the Hoffman family and several warbands, led by the Grey Wolves.
Under the influence of the rebellion, the Upper Hive was now in utter chaos, a microcosm of the entire Hive. As a former vassal of the Grant family, the Hoffman's ulterior motives were clear. Last night's attack was most likely their work. Their power was growing stronger by the day, and it was believed they would launch a full-scale offensive soon.
Bad news followed one after another. But there was also good news. Millions of refugees had flocked to the Upper Hive due to the rebellion and remained. Ron controlled nearly two million of them. This provided him with a basic population base. With proper management, the power of hope he could provide would partially restore the Little Sun's abilities.
Taking it slow and steady, counterattacking the Lower Hive is not a dream!
"Then let's not go to the Lower Hive. Let's explore the Upper Hive's control zone," Ron decided to inspect the territory.
"God Emperor, that's too dangerous," Bayev said worriedly. "It's better for you to stay in the Royal Court. The assassins of the Hoffman family have been waiting for an opportunity. If anything happens to you, the Grant family will be finished!"
Ron couldn't deny it. He looked at Bayev and said, "You can protect me, right?" If the Royal Court couldn't protect its own master in its own controlled area, it would be a waste. He might as well wash his neck and wait for someone to wipe it.
Besides, as a psychic, he was not without the ability to protect himself. In this cruel world where the strong reign, cowardice is a fatal flaw. Ron was cautious, but not a coward. He was the Planetary Governor, the ruler of Erth. If he remained in the Royal Court, afraid to leave, refusing to face his people, refusing to make promises, as the situation deteriorated, more and more people would lose their trust and respect for him. If this continued, his power would crumble, his rule ineffective. Only death awaited Ron.
"Sir, we can protect you!" Bayev straightened his body, his tone firm. Last night's attack had left Bayev with deep shame and humiliation. He had put the bloodline of the Grant family in such danger; that was unforgivable! He pledged his life that he would never let the Governor come to harm again!
"Okay!" Ron said, his tone unwavering. "It's settled."
After making arrangements, Ron followed Bayev out of Spire Mansion. Escorted by Carter's guards, he rode a hovercraft out of the Royal Court. Only then did Ron truly see the Royal Court in its present state.
The scars of war were everywhere, pitted and cratered. Thousands of years of luxurious buildings and exquisite statues lay in ruins. After such a catastrophe, it was lucky that the Royal Court District could maintain itself. How could it possibly afford to repair it? As the hovercraft passed through the Sacred Square, Ron looked up at the hundred-meter-tall statue of the God Emperor and was shocked.
Sadly, the statue was damaged. Its nose had been blown off by some heretic, its arm was missing, and the base was covered in rubble.
Beyond the Royal Court, everything was filthy, crowded, and congested. Upper Hive, once the home of nobles and officials, had a small population and was largely composed of residential areas, entertainment districts, and gardens, with virtually no industry. After the rebellion, Upper Hive lost its supply of resources from Lower Hive, becoming extremely resource-scarce.
Consequently, Upper Hive was forced to undergo a major transformation, constructing makeshift industrial zones and fungus cultivation sites, and even starting production lines for corpse starch. Refugees were organized and employed in various factories, mines, and cultivation bases. Even so, Upper Hive could not feed the influx. With all its reserves depleted, food became increasingly scarce. More and more people could not even afford a single serving of corpse starch a day, starving to death!
Countless people were born in squalor, toiling in misery, only to die in the streets, uncelebrated and unmourned. Such was their fate.
Ron sat in his hovercar, looking at the people who were falling dead from hunger on the street, feeling sad for them.
"How many people die here every day?" Ron asked.
"People die every day, it's hard to count." Bayev shook his head. "Actually, the people living here are quite fortunate. If they fell into the hands of the Hoffman family or the warband, their lives would be worse than death..."
Ron was silent. He saw the eyes the people gave him: confusion, numbness, fear, and even hatred. The situation was even more difficult than he had imagined! It was extremely difficult for him to gain public support right now, and he was lucky there wasn't a large-scale rebellion.
Not far away, another elderly woman collapsed and died. The crowd stared at the body with eager eyes. But they were quickly dispersed, and heavily armed body collectors arrived to drag the body away.
Bayev noticed Ron's puzzled look and explained, "Every resource is extremely precious and must not be wasted."
Ron suddenly understood. The bodies were not sent to landfills or incinerators but were sent to special machines to be broken down into protein, which was then made into corpse starch, allowing more people to survive. Cruel, yet helpless!
Ron secretly decided that he had to change this, but there was little he could do now. The food warehouses were running low, and the Royal Court District would soon be unable to even sustain its army. Rumors said the situation in the territories of the Hoffman family and the Grey Wolf Warband was even worse, their food supplies nearly depleted.
To maintain stability, they began slaughtering the incapable or less able-bodied civilians, turning them into corpse starch to sustain their armies. With a population of millions, they should be able to sustain the situation for a long time.
The Upper Hive District was now a sealed jar of poison; whoever was more toxic and ruthless would survive. But Ron refused to achieve victory in such a brutal way; he sought another solution. Perhaps the tiny sun in the Warp could help him break this situation.
As night fell, Ron, having patrolled half the territory and witnessed so much human suffering, could no longer bear to watch. "Let's go back..." He closed his eyes and ordered Bayev to take him back.
When they returned to the Spire Mansion in the Royal Court District, the maids had already prepared dinner. Ron sat in the luxurious restaurant, looking at the sumptuous dinner, but he had little appetite. The situation was serious, and he had to find a way out!
(End of Chapter)