241: What is our mission?

Tomorrow arrived as scheduled.

Countless eras ago, humans always liked to compare "tomorrow" to "hope."

They always said, "We all have a better tomorrow," and "Look forward to tomorrow's arrival."

As if as long as the sun rose the next day, all the beauty in the world would arrive as scheduled—

But in reality, was it truly so?

People living in despair every day could never understand this logic.

Yang Fangming was one of those living in this eternal hell.

The place where he lived was a political entity called the "Saint Blade Group."

That's right, this corporation was a member of those miscellaneous secondary regimes under the Order Alliance.

Actually, before last month, his life wasn't quite that miserable—

At that time, although he worked a full twenty hours a day, he had at least saved enough for a down payment and bought a neuron shock control unit on credit.

That equipment allowed his body to continue working according to a set program while he slept.

Through this, he finally managed to secure four hours of free time for himself every day, to the point where his sleep and mental state had greatly improved—

During that time, he could even find the time to discuss some of the profound mysteries of life with his wife.

As for why he got married?

That was because the internal regulations of the Saint Blade Group stipulated that any citizen over sixteen with a stable job who remained single had to pay a massive monthly "Social Public Support Fund."

For Yang Fangming, while he couldn't say for sure if that money was actually spent on social support, he was certain that it was definitely scraped off his own back.

As for what to do with the children produced, The Corporation thoughtfully provided a solution—

Either receive a "Childcare Subsidy Fund" of up to 200 energy currency a year, or pay 200 energy currency to send the child to a "Social Public Support Nursery."

As for the purchasing power of those 200 energy currency?

If you were frugal and risked being blacklisted by scavenging all the free samples from every shopping point,

it could probably cover an infant's expenses for about a month.

In short, despite the chaos, for Yang Fangming, who had been used to this environment since childhood, he actually felt that life still had some hope.

But all of this was shattered a month ago:

At the time, the public loudspeakers were blaring something about the "Order Grand Ceremony" and "human destiny."

He didn't understand it, nor did he care—he had thought this matter still had absolutely nothing to do with him—

But after only two days, that thought was shattered.

Originally, the factory where he worked was considered a "welfare post" in the eyes of most of his neighbors.

After all, work that could be completed just by moving one's upper limbs within a fixed area could even be done by a neuron shocker.

But then came that day—

On that day, their factory director stood at the highest point and announced that for the future of humanity and The Corporation, they would henceforth have mandatory volunteer labor hours added every day.

Their weekly working hours became 164 hours.

Since then, he didn't even have time to charge his neuron shock device.

That factory, which was usually reluctant to purchase any high-end equipment, also installed a seemingly advanced counter for the first time—

It could automatically monitor the workers' presence, including but not limited to things like going to the bathroom or eating, accurate to the second, and then directly calculate it into their absence time.

These hellish days lasted for more than a month—a full month.

Just when he was about to completely break down and planned to use the metallic hydrogen battery in his shock device to perish together with the assembly line in front of him,

suddenly, an unremarkable colleague of his approached him—

"Hey, Old Yang, what are you thinking about?"

"The time is coming—let us end this utterly absurd error with our own hands!"

Suddenly, a soft call from beside him interrupted Yang Fangming's memories.

A man holding a simple electromagnetic gun was looking at him with bright, piercing eyes.

That was his colleague, Qi Ruofeng.

At that time, he had said the same thing—

"Let us go and end this error."

Immediately, Yang Fangming reached out a hand and heavily patted the man's shoulder—

"Good! What is our mission?"

...