153: The heat dissipates

Wasteland, radio studio.

"This is Voice of Freedom Radio, and I'm your host, Old Jackie." The middle-aged man with a stubbly face adjusted the old mixing console. "Today, we've invited three special guests, all of whom have witnessed the battles of the 'Ranger' Luigi."

The camera panned to the three people sitting on a worn-out sofa: an old miner missing a front tooth, a young woman with a scar on her face, and a little girl clutching a doll.

"Old Joe, I heard you personally witnessed Mr. Luigi fight against Militech forces?"

The old miner rubbed his rough hands: "I'll never forget that scene for as long as I live. More than twenty power armors, they surrounded the entire town. Mr. Luigi stood at the town entrance, his revolver gleaming like a star..."

As the old miner narrated, a scene appeared in the listeners' minds.

On the dusty street, the old miner and dozens of townsfolk huddled in a cellar. The ground tremors grew more violent, and through the cracks, they could see Militech's black armored vehicles approaching.

"Pathstrider detected!" A mechanical voice blared from the loudspeaker, "Surrender immediately!"

Suddenly, a flash of green light. The old miner bravely peeked through the crack, just in time to see Luigi's figure darting like a phantom between the armored vehicles. Each shot from his revolver sparked an explosion at the joint of a power armor.

"The scariest thing was the bullets." The old miner gestured in the studio, "They curved! Really, I watched a bullet curve around the church spire and hit the sniper hiding behind it!"

The young woman took the microphone: "I first met Mr. Luigi in a Sons of Purity concentration camp."

She tremblingly unbuttoned her collar, revealing a barcode brand below her collarbone: "They used us for radiation experiments, saying it would grant path power. That night, Mr. Luigi split open the wall like a bolt of lightning..."

In her memory, alarms blared through the night sky, and she and the other prisoners watched in horror as guards frantically ran towards the gate. Suddenly, a deafening explosion, and the entire watchtower collapsed with a roar.

From the dust, a grey figure slowly walked forward. The guards' bullets eerily hovered before him, then returned the way they came. When the last guard fell, Luigi's revolver was already pressed against the laboratory director's temple.

"He pointed that gun at the director's head and said..." The young woman mimicked Luigi's low voice in the studio, "'You will never understand where true power comes from.'"

As the troubles caused by the path grew, the Interstellar Peace Corporation, for the first time, held a press conference.

Aventurine stood before the flashing lights, his sunglasses reflecting a cold glint: "I see many people are curious about my background, and even more curious about where my power comes from. Alright, today I'll satisfy your curiosity."

"First, path awakening requires certain necessary conditions."

"A firm belief highly aligned with the essence of the path, and a will that can uphold that belief even at the brink of death."

"Simply put," Aventurine pushed up his glasses, "very few people meet these two conditions, and these are just prerequisites."

"You can think of each path as having its own judgment criteria. If the path itself doesn't deem you worthy, then no matter how firm you believe yourself to be, it's useless."

With Aventurine's explanation, everyone finally understood that the power of the path required an extremely firm will to even have a slight chance of obtaining it. Only one in tens of millions would get the chance to be tested, and fewer than one in ten of those would pass the test.

A reporter below raised a hand: "What about the actual combat effectiveness of a Pathstrider?"

Jade took the microphone: "Taking Luigi as an example, his peak performance is equivalent to..." She brought up a comparison video, "a well-equipped heavy infantry company."

In the footage, when Luigi fought against twenty power armors, his left arm was still wounded by stray bullets, and he needed smoke grenades for cover during his retreat.

As the truth gradually became clear, the atmosphere on Blue Star began to change.

"What path or no path." A Engineer spat, continuing to repair his powered exoskeleton, "It's better to stock up on more nano-repair kits."

In the bar, the drunkards' conversations also shifted from superpowers to the latest plasma cutters. Only in the corner could one occasionally hear someone quietly discussing the legend of the grey shadow.

At a Militech executive meeting, Meredith slammed the experiment report on the table: "Enough! Stop all path-related research and invest all resources into new power armors and starships."

The technical director wiped his sweat: "But, Commander, if we could crack..."

"Fool!" Meredith pointed to the sky outside the window, "Do you know why the Interstellar Peace Corporation doesn't stop us? Because they know that technology is the only truly controllable power!"

"If the path is something so easily cracked, why do you think you can find the answer before the Corporation does?!"

Thus, under the Corporation's guidance, this fantasy trend gradually subsided, and people began to pursue the power of technology once more.

In the following year, as the space elevator base gradually took shape, Blue Star entered a long-awaited period of peace.

At the construction site of the equatorial line in the Black Continent, tens of thousands of people were still busy.

A giant robotic arm inserted the last carbon nanotube bundle into the base, and the ground portion of the space elevator finally completed its main structure. Eastern Federation Engineer Wu Huai wiped the sweat from his forehead, gazing up at the artificial 'Silver Mountain' before him.

"I heard that once this thing is built, going to space will be as simple as taking an elevator?" Enkruma, a young worker from the Gari Republic, asked curiously.

Wu Huai smiled, adjusting the holographic projection: "It's even more convenient than that. Theoretically, 500,000 tons of material can be sent to synchronous orbit in twenty-four hours." The projection showed the complete design of the space city. "Look, this is the future 'Heavenly Palace.'"

Enkruma suddenly lowered his voice: "Engineer Wu, I heard that only a portion of resources were invested in the Heavenly Palace project, and there's actually a bigger secret project?"

Wu Huai's smile froze for a moment, then returned to normal: "Don't believe those rumors. Come, help me check the stress data for Sector F."

While most parts of Blue Star were relatively peaceful, the Southern Cross Federation was a constant stage for drama, especially today, the second year after the Great Nuclear Disaster.

The once solemn parliamentary hall was now packed with representatives from various nations, their arguments almost tearing off the dome. President Marcus sat on the dais, his face grim as he watched the chaotic scene below.

"Silence!" The Speaker pounded his gavel, "Representatives, please speak according to the agenda!"

Pierre Dupont, representative of the former Champs Elysees Federation interim government, was the first to stand up, adjusting the collar of his well-tailored suit: "According to Amendment 12 of the New Canberra Agreement, the Champs Elysees District should be granted development rights to the entire East Coast."

Marcus abruptly stood up: "That is our country's most important industrial zone and port! This is outright plunder!"

"Please mind your words, Mr. President." Pierre offered a false smile, "We are merely allocating resources fairly based on population ratio. You should know that among the refugees currently settled on the East Coast, 78% are French citizens."

Hans, the Rhine Empire representative, immediately stood up: "Furthermore, according to our latest census data, original citizens of the Southern Cross Federation account for only 32% of the total population. From a democratic principle standpoint..."

"Democratic principles?" Marcus sneered, "You crammed tens of millions of refugees into my country, and now you talk to me about democratic principles?"

He angrily brought up a holographic projection, displaying a series of data charts: "Let me tell you what the facts are! Last year alone, you transported over 30 million refugees to our country under the guise of 'humanitarian aid'!"

The projection switched to surveillance footage, showing Europa officials distributing supplies marked with their national flags in refugee camps: "See? Every refugee was told to retain their original nationality and register on the 'exiled government' roster!"

Sir William, the Fog City representative, interjected unhurriedly: "These are all legal procedures, Mr. President. According to the International Refugee Convention..."

"Legal?" Marcus slammed the table, "You set up polling stations in refugee camps, allowing these refugees to 'elect' their so-called 'exiled parliament'! And then these parliaments brazenly demand territorial rights!"

The hall erupted in an uproar. The Italian representative stood up to argue: "This is the will of the people! We are merely respecting public opinion..."

President Marcus was so angry he laughed: "What a 'public opinion'!" He brought up another set of data. "Look at this! In the past six months, through so-called 'cultural education programs,' you have established 383 'ethnic schools' across our country, all using curricula from the original Europa nations!"

He turned to the entire hall, his voice trembling: "This is not humanitarian aid; this is a meticulously planned colonial operation! You exploit the suffering of refugees, using so-called human rights and humanitarianism as a cover, to commit acts of plunder!"

Pierre calmly responded: "Mr. President, you are being alarmist. We merely wish to give a home to displaced people..."

"A home?" Marcus sneered, "Then why is every 'home' conveniently located in our country's richest mining areas, best ports, and most fertile farmlands?"

He projected a document: "Look at this appendix to the New Canberra Agreement, which details the mineral resource allocation plan for each 'district.' Coincidentally, all rare minerals are allocated to your so-called 'exiled governments'!"

The hall fell into a brief silence. Finally, the UN Special Envoy stood up to mediate: "Mr. President, the reality is that your country can no longer maintain the status quo. Instead of resisting, why not..."

President Marcus surveyed the hall, looking at the greedy eyes of the well-dressed 'exiled government' representatives, and suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion.

"I understand." He slowly sat down. "You had everything planned long ago. First the refugees, then cultural infiltration, then the so-called democratic procedures..."

He picked up a pen and signed the holographic agreement. On the map, the 'Oceania City-States' label slowly covered the entire territory of the Southern Cross Federation, internally divided into a dozen different colored blocks.

"Congratulations to all." Marcus said sarcastically, "You're finally home."

Pierre smiled and clapped: "Thank you for your understanding, Mr. President. This is a win-win situation."

"Win-win?" Marcus sneered, "You won twice, and we lost everything."

"You simply lost, don't act so innocent, Mr. President," Sir William retorted mercilessly.

"If we had lost, then the centuries of wealth of us Europa people would surely be your blood money by now."

"But for God's sake, we can cooperate with you in taking some blame, and you won't lose your position as the next president."

His thoughts exposed, Marcus angrily rose and left, the clamor of representatives from various countries already discussing mineral resource allocation echoing behind him.

As he walked out of the Parliament building, Marcus looked up at the flagpole where the Southern Cross Federation flag once flew; now, it was adorned with colorful 'autonomous region' flags.