151: Division and rebirth

Inside the New Federation Presidential Palace, Howard stared at the three-colored map on the holographic projection, his restless hands betraying his inner turmoil. The western region was displayed in blue, the eastern New Federation in red, and the southern Lone Star Republic stubbornly remained deep brown.

"So, this is the end?" His voice was hoarse, unlike his own. "A Federation of over two hundred years, just like that, split into three?"

Minister of Defense Jenkins also sighed: "Mr. President, in fact, we are very lucky. The Lone Star Republic has agreed to continue recognizing you as the legitimate President of the New Federation, so at least we don't have to worry about civil war." He pointed to several military bases along the eastern coast. "Also, we've preserved the main strength of our navy."

"No matter what, we still have a seat at the table."

"What is the price?" Howard keenly sensed something was amiss.

Jenkins exchanged a look with National Security Advisor Sally: "We... permanently relinquished jurisdiction over all military bases within Deseret, and legally acknowledged the legitimacy of the supplementary clauses in the original treaty. In exchange, they promised to provide food aid and radiation purification technology."

Howard suddenly coughed violently, dark red blood staining his handkerchief. Since attending political activities near the Central Plains nuclear blast zone, his lungs had developed unexplained fibrosis.

Although nanomedicines could alleviate the symptoms, they couldn't cure it.

"What about Militech?" he asked, gasping.

"They support the independence of the Cali Republic." Sally brought up a video. "The four western states held a 'special referendum' yesterday, with 99.7% voting for independence." The screen showed Militech armored vehicles escorting the election commission. "Of course, this number..."

"Say no more." Howard waved his hand. "How are things in the eastern states?"

Chief of Staff James handed over a report: "Major cities like New Village and Boston are basically stable, but the Great Lakes industrial zone..." He hesitated. "An armed organization calling themselves the Sons of Purity has appeared, claiming they want to establish a 'radiation-free pure land'."

In the capital of the Lone Star Republic, the underground command center, the new President Grayson was on a call with Meredith, the new CEO of Militech. Outside the radiation-proof glass window, workers could be seen reinforcing the dome structure of the underground city.

"The Lone Star Republic will never forget its friends." Grayson pointed to the Lone Star flag on the wall. "The vertical farm system provided by your company has already restored our food production to 80% of pre-disaster levels."

Meredith's projection showed a satisfied smile: "Mr. President, what we are more concerned about is... that list?"

Grayson snapped his fingers, and an assistant immediately brought out a metal box: "All test data for the 'Watchman' power armor, including its combat performance in radiation zones." He paused deliberately. "And, our activity reports on the Sons of Purity organization collected at the border."

Meredith's projection leaned slightly forward: "Are they really planning an attack?"

"Yes, and they are more organized than you imagine." Grayson brought up a surveillance video. "Look at these modified vehicles and weapons; this is no longer something ordinary rioters can achieve."

The footage showed a group of people wearing gas masks training, all using military-grade equipment.

"Precisely because of this." Grayson closed the video. "We request an additional twenty 'titan' class defense systems, and three months of fuel supply."

"Mr. President!" The communications officer suddenly interrupted. "Urgent border report! The Sons of Purity have breached Quarantine Zone 4!"

Central Plains Wasteland, radiation clouds rolled in the sky, filtering the midday sun into a sickly orange. The once-busy interstate highway was now only rusted vehicle wreckage, with occasional warning fires lit with tires.

"Maintain formation!" Lieutenant Mike of the Militech security team yelled into the radio. "Watch out for those abandoned buildings!"

His squad was escorting a team of scientists to an abandoned research facility in Kansas City. Suddenly, a warning came from the scout ahead.

"Lieutenant! Three o'clock!" A soldier's tense voice came through the earpiece.

Mike raised his binoculars and saw a convoy of modified trucks rushing out of an abandoned shopping mall. The trucks were painted with skulls and the word "Purity," and heavy machine guns were welded to their roofs.

"Prepare to engage!"

The automatic turrets on the armored vehicles immediately opened fire, and the two lead trucks exploded instantly. But more vehicles swarmed from all directions, and the armed militants on board began attacking with improvised incendiary devices.

"Retreat! Retreat immediately!" Mike directed the convoy to turn around while shouting into the communicator, "Tell headquarters, the Sons of Purity's equipment is better than intelligence indicated! We need—"

With a loud bang, the leading armored vehicle was hit by a rocket. Mike saw at least fifty heavily armed attackers rush out of the ruins, wearing uniform black protective suits and moving with trained precision.

"Damn it! These people are ex-military!" Mike's adjutant exclaimed.

Southern Cross Federation customs port, the refugee crisis had lasted for three months. The Southern Cross Federation army had erected high-voltage electric fences and checkpoints at several ports, allowing only a limited number of skilled immigrants to pass through daily.

"Please! My wife is a doctor!" A dust-covered man pleaded at the checkpoint, his wife leaning weakly on their luggage beside him.

A border official wearing a protective mask shook his head: "Medical licenses need verification. Go queue over there." He pointed to a tent city stretching for several kilometers in the distance. "Estimated wait time: two weeks."

In the tent city, Tom, a former Europa Marine, was quietly inspecting a batch of smuggled weapon parts. Hidden in his backpack was an action plan labeled "Europa Revival Corps."

"The first batch of equipment is in place." He whispered to his accomplice beside him. "Once tonight's riot starts—"

A piercing alarm suddenly blared across the entire border area. Tom looked up to see Southern Cross Federation drones circling at low altitude, loudspeakers announcing an emergency notice:

"Attention all personnel! Stop moving immediately! Contraband smuggling detected! Please cooperate with the search!"

Tom's face instantly turned pale. He quickly kicked his backpack into a drainage ditch under the tent. In the distance, armed personnel had already begun searching tents one by one.

In these troubled times, the exposure of the path added fuel to the already difficult situation.

Inside the Eastern Federation National Television studio, a program was being broadcast live.

"Good evening, viewers. Today we have invited Professor Sun Ming, Director of the Institute of Psychology at the National Academy of Sciences, to analyze the recent phenomenon of so-called 'path awakening'."

The host maintained a professional smile, then shifted his gaze, and the camera turned to a middle-aged Scholar wearing glasses.

"Professor Sun, recently there have been many people on the internet claiming to have awakened 'path power'. What do you think of this phenomenon?"

Professor Sun pushed up his glasses, his tone calm but firm: "This is essentially a collective 'hysteria'. Under the immense psychological pressure brought by the nuclear disaster, some people developed delusional symptoms..."

The control room suddenly stirred, and urgent instructions came through the host's earpiece. His expression changed slightly: "I apologize for interrupting you, Professor Sun. We have just received news of a serious incident in the New Union wasteland area where a large number of people illegally trespassed into the radiation zone. We need to broadcast this urgently."

At the edge of the New Union wasteland at this moment.

"I can see the light! The path is calling me!" A disheveled middle-aged man frantically tore at the barbed wire of the isolation zone, his eyes bloodshot, white foam at the corners of his mouth.

Several equally ragged followers echoed loudly: "Prophet! Lead us to power!"

"Family, watch closely! This is the trial of the Preservation path!" The man stretched his arm towards the radiation warning sign, his skin already bloody and mangled by the wire. "I feel... I feel power surging..."

Suddenly, his movements froze, and he fell stiffly to the ground, beginning to convulse. His followers retreated in panic: "Prophet? Prophet, what's wrong with you?"

The arriving border patrol quickly secured the scene. Medical personnel checked him and shook their heads: "Severe dehydration combined with a psychotic episode. Vital signs are too low; he's basically beyond help."

The captain looked at the disoriented crowd and sighed: "Send them all to the mental rehabilitation center. This is the third incident this week."

There are true fakes, and there are false truths.

Inside a tent in the Southern Cross Federation refugee camp, a skinny young man was live-streaming on his phone.

"I can control metal! Watch this!" The young man's trembling hand pointed at an iron spoon. Out of the camera's view, his companion was using a magnet to subtly move the spoon.

The comments section was frantically scrolling:

[Oh my god! It's really path power!]

[Master, please accept me as your disciple!]

[Donated! Master, please guide me!]

"Thanks to 'path Seeker' for the rocket!" The young man's eyes lit up. "For just 9999 credit points, I will teach you..."

"Everyone, don't move!" A team of police suddenly rushed into the tent. "It's you con artists again!"

The live stream was forcibly interrupted, and the police found a dozen magnets and a simple projection device under the mattress. "This time, they defrauded at least twenty people, with the amount involved exceeding fifty thousand," the officer said, shaking his head as he recorded.

The young man suddenly laughed hysterically: "You mortals! When I awaken my true power..." Before he could finish, he was escorted into the police car.

In the psychiatry department of the Southern Cross Federation Royal Hospital, Professor Jafar, wearing a white coat, was recording a case in the observation room.

"Patient No. 55, a former nuclear physicist, claims to have mastered the Preservation path and can purify radiation." He spoke into the recording device. "In reality, it's just severe post-traumatic stress disorder with delusional symptoms."

Inside the observation window, an old man with disheveled white hair was gesticulating at the air: "Look! These golden specks of light! I am reconstructing atomic structures!"

Jafar turned to the young doctor beside him: "This is barely a typical case of Cotard's syndrome. He cannot accept that his life's research in nuclear energy caused this disaster, so his brain constructed this delusion for self-protection."

"In all my years of practice, this is the first time I've seen such a 'logical' madman. Alas..."

Suddenly, the old man lunged at the observation window, a strange clarity flashing in his cloudy eyes: "You all don't understand! Interstellar Peace Corporation knows the truth! The Amber King is watching us!"

Jafar calmly wrote down the prescription: "Increase the haloperidol dosage, combined with psychological counseling."