Same dark night.
In the quiet room, the elderly man with a white beard stared out at Tanbo's night, his expression filled with Pieta. When he saw the endless lights and the bustling construction sites, he couldn't help but let out a silent sigh.
For the suffering of the people.
Who knows, behind this facade of prosperity, how many have shed their blood and tears?
This brutal governance exploits the people's sweat to exchange for prosperity, which indeed is nauseating.
Yet, when a crisp sound came from behind the door, that expression of world-weary Pieta instantly vanished, replaced by urgency as he approached, "How is it? Any news from the other side?"
"The money has been transferred."
The person who knocked said, "We'll provide support when necessary, please proceed without hesitation."
"Good, very good!"
The elderly man looked down at the numbers on his phone, and his smile turned gratified, "Very good, with such support, the Doomsday for this Sinful City is coming!"
