74: Human Power Plant: The Cruelty of This World Is Beyond Imagination

Leaving the bloody black market alleyway.

The two followed the information forced out of those unlucky fellows and walked toward the "Power core Area" in the middle level of the Floating City.

The deeper they went, the more bizarre the surrounding environment became.

A strange vibration began to emanate from the hollow steel grating beneath their feet.

It wasn't the violent, rhythmic roar of a high-power diesel generator, nor the high-frequency shriek of a steam turbine.

This vibration was low and dense, carrying an unsettling sense of viscosity that conducted up through the soles of their shoes.

It made one feel as if the floor beneath their feet had turned into a thin membrane, wrapping around some giant living creature below.

"The temperature here... isn't right."

Su Qingyu frowned slightly and reached out to tug at her collar.

Indeed, it was much hotter here than on the river outside, and it was a suffocating, humid heat.

The air was filled with a thick, almost inseparable stench.

It wasn't just the smell of machine oil and rust, but mixed with the sour sweat of thousands of bodies squeezed together and fermenting.

As well as the stench of excrement mixed with high concentrations of hormones.

It was like walking into an underground gym that had been sealed for a hundred years, or a large pig farm with a broken ventilation system.

"Buzz... buzz... buzz..."

That sound grew louder and louder. Listening carefully, it was a massive background noise formed by the convergence of countless tiny sounds:

The friction of rusted chains, the grinding of interlocking gears, heavy panting, and the occasional muffled groan after being lashed by a whip.

The "heart" of this Floating City was beating at a morbid frequency.

Jiang Ran stopped in his tracks, his gaze passing through the rusted wire mesh ahead that hung a "No Trespassing" sign.

He looked into that vast, dim internal space.

"It seems this place is even more 'environmentally friendly' than I imagined."

There was a hint of ironic coldness in his voice.

Through the wire mesh covered in oil stains and bloody handprints, the so-called "Power Core Factory" finally revealed itself to the two of them.

There was no precision-running nuclear fusion reactor as imagined, nor were there roaring large diesel units.

What appeared in their vision was a giant sunken space comparable to the Roman Colosseum.

In this space, thousands of modified fixed bases were densely arranged.

Each base was welded with crude transmission devices, connected to buzzing small generators.

And the ones "working" on these machines were people.

Countless scantily clad, emaciated men and women were locked to the bases with thick iron chains like livestock.

Their feet mechanically treaded on heavy pedals, or their hands pushed giant winches.

No rest, no communication, not even the movement of their eyes.

They were like pieces of breathing flesh-and-blood batteries, numbly repeating the same movement under the dark red warning lights.

"Snap—!"

A crisp explosion.

An overseer wearing an insulation suit brandished a long whip charged with high-voltage electricity and lashed it hard against the back of an old man who was a bit slow.

A blue electric arc exploded.

The old man didn't even let out a scream; his body jerked violently.

Then he slid limply from the seat, collapsing on the ground like a pile of mud.

"Sector 3, one scrapped! Next substitute up!" the overseer shouted coldly into the walkie-talkie.

Soon, two corpse draggers wearing gas masks walked over.

They skillfully unlocked the iron chains on the old man's ankles and dragged that still-twitching body like a dead dog toward a dark deep well in the corner—

Above the mouth of that well was written "Biomass Recycling Port."

Immediately after, a new, despair-filled young man was brought up.

He was locked into the seat that still carried the residual warmth and the smell of urine from the previous occupant.

"This is the 'green energy' of the Floating City."

Jiang Ran watched this scene, his gaze even colder than that electric whip: "In the wasteland, high-purity fuel is a luxury.

But synthetic starch and radiation-contaminated water are everywhere.

As long as they're given a bite to eat, these people can turn the machines all day."

In this place, the laws of thermodynamics were replaced by cruel sociological rules: the burning efficiency of human life is far higher than inferior diesel... Ten minutes later, in a dim shop with a "Prosthetic Repair" sign in the middle level.

An old man, thin as a rat, with his left eye replaced by an unknown model of mechanical prosthetic eye.

He was holding a tin of luncheon meat that Jiang Ran had thrown to him.

His hands were trembling uncontrollably due to excessive excitement.

"You're looking for that... East Sea Chart?"

The old man swallowed hard, his mechanical eyeball making a sizzling current sound as it turned, his voice kept extremely low as if afraid the walls had ears:

"That thing does indeed exist.

It marks the Ark's blockade lines and all known safe reef channels.

But this thing doesn't circulate on the black market."

"Where is it?" Jiang Ran was concise.

The old man shrunk his neck and pointed at the ceiling above—the direction leading to the upper-level rich district.

"In the hands of 'Golden Tooth'."

When mentioning this name, a fear even stronger than when he saw the canned meat just now appeared in the old man's eyes.

"Who is he?"

Su Qingyu asked.

"He is the uncrowned king here, the behind-the-scenes boss of the Mutual Aid Society, and the only designated agent for the 'Ark' in these waters—

commonly known as a 'white glove'."

The old man explained in a lowered voice: "The 'human power plant' you just saw is his property.

He monopolized the Floating City's energy supply and navigation rights.

In this place, if he sneezes, hundreds of people in the lower levels will die."

Jiang Ran rubbed the stubble on his chin, lost in thought. So he's a dog raised by the Ark.

No wonder he could get a military sea chart of this level.

"That sea chart is locked in his private vault," the old man added tremblingly:

"It's one of his proudest collectibles.

It's said that two wandering hunter teams wanted to steal it before.

As a result, the next day, their skins were hung in front of the floor-to-ceiling window of Golden Tooth's office as curtains."

"Collectible?"

Jiang Ran caught this keyword: "He's a businessman; shouldn't he be waiting for the right price?"

The old man shook his head, his mechanical prosthetic eye flashing with a strange light: "No, he doesn't lack money.

Compared to money, that pervert prefers collecting... 'souls'."

"Talk is cheap; let me show you this."

The rat-like information broker raised a withered finger and tapped twice on the side of his cloudy mechanical prosthetic eye.

Accompanied by a burst of sizzling current, a pale blue holographic beam shot out from his eyeball, projecting onto the oil-stained tabletop.

The image was a bit shaky, obviously a secret recording.

But the content of the image was clear enough to make one's stomach cramp.

It was an extremely luxuriously decorated hall, even laid with a red carpet.

But what was placed in the hall were not sculptures or porcelain, but giant, exquisite gilded cages and transparent life-support tanks.

"See that woman in the cage?"

The old man pointed to a curled-up figure in a tattered evening gown in the corner of the screen:

"That was the lead pianist of the National Grand Theater before the war.

Golden Tooth cut her vocal cords, leaving only those hands.

When he's in a good mood, he makes her kneel on the ground and play the piano for entertainment;

When he's in a bad mood, he throws a few mutant rats into the cage."

The screen switched.

In a giant glass tank filled with green solution floated a middle-aged man in a white lab coat.

He was covered in tubes, only his eyeballs still turning slightly, his gaze full of the despair of wanting to die.

"This is a first-level researcher from the Frontier Technology Department.

Golden Tooth made him into a 'living specimen,' saying he wanted to keep the 'eyes of wisdom'."

The old man's voice carried a morbid tremor: "Professors, doctors, artists... Golden Tooth is a complete madman.

He thinks only the elites of the old era have collectible value.

Watching these once-lofty people being tethered by him like dogs and toyed with like insects.

It gives an upstart like him a kind of... pleasure of riding on the head of the old world."

Su Qingyu stared fixedly at the holographic image.

When the screen swept over several "collectibles" in the corner wearing collars and lying on the ground like pets.

Her knuckles turned white from excessive force.

As a former top surgeon.

If she hadn't met Jiang Ran, if she had fallen into the hands of someone like Golden Tooth... that end would be ten thousand times more terrifying than dying in the mouth of a zombie.

"He calls this 'Art of the New Order'."

The old man turned off the projection, and the suffocating image disappeared:

"In his eyes, people are divided into two kinds:

One kind is like me, batteries used for power generation.

The other kind is toys used for amusement."

...Walking out of that dim and oppressive prosthetic repair shop, the black market outside was still noisy and bustling.

The neon lights were bizarre, and the air was filled with the sounds of hawking and the irritating low-frequency vibration of the distant generators.

Su Qingyu followed behind Jiang Ran, taking a deep breath of the air that, although foul, was at least circulating.

Trying to banish those terrifying images she had just seen from her mind.

"If we are to participate in the top-level auction to bid for that sea chart..."

She quickly adjusted back to a rational state and began to calculate the resources on hand:

"Our chips are not enough.

Those two batteries just now were only stepping stones.

If we are to compete in wealth with a pervert of that level, we need to hunt at least three lord-level mutant beasts, or..."

"No need."

Jiang Ran suddenly stopped, interrupting her calculation.

He stood at the edge of the corridor, looking up toward the highest point of the Floating City.

Through the layers of illegal buildings and mist, at the top of that steel jungle.

A magnificent "Cloudtop Palace," surrounded by countless searchlights, towered there.

That was Golden Tooth's lair and the pinnacle of the entire city's order.

"We won't participate in the auction."

Jiang Ran's voice was calm, but those black eyes held a chill that felt familiar yet heart-pounding to Su Qingyu—

It was the specific look he had before the black iron's main cannon charged.

"Bidding at the same table as scum who built their fortune on human blood and sweat?

That's an insult to me, and an insult to the technology of the black iron."

The corners of Jiang Ran's mouth curled into a cold arc.

In this wasteland without laws, strength is the only passport.

Since the other party is the Ark's dog and a pervert who treats living people as batteries and toys, any moral burden is redundant.

"But the sea chart is in his hands..." Su Qingyu was stunned for a moment.

"Then go take it."

Jiang Ran straightened the collar of his cloak, his gaze like a sharp sword, piercing directly at that high-and-mighty palace:

"Since he likes collecting, then we'll personally visit to 'have a look.'

By the way... help him clear out his inventory."

"You mean..."

"Zero-dollar shopping."

Jiang Ran spat out those three words and turned toward the VIP elevator shaft leading to the top floor:

"In this damn world, only things belonging to dead people are free."}],