A brave man may not live, but he cannot die

Chapter 196 Applause
The moonlight was bright, and the night was cloudless. He looked up, and the starry sky seemed like the eyes of the gods looking down upon the human world.

Below the stage, the clicking of tungsten lamps igniting echoed incessantly. Reporters raised their cameras, snapping away at film and flashes as if they were free. They all had a premonition that this might be a historic scene, just like Grindelwald moving mountains, the first magic crystal being embedded in a steam engine, and the first airship setting sail with the help of Grindelwald's Eye—

The thousands of spectators were completely silent. They were elites from all walks of life in the city, businessmen, entrepreneurs, bankers, factory owners, or dignitaries from neighboring countries who had trade and investment relations with Eswell. They had previously made all sorts of speculations about this young man who might monopolize power in the parliament, but now all that remained was silence.

Can only be silent.

The city flag of Eswell, symbolizing freedom and progress, fluttered loudly at the highest point behind the stage. But behind the flag stood a tower whose light could not be obscured even by the starry sky. That was Grindelwald's eye, the mystery of arcane magic looking down upon all living beings from above the Mirror Lake.

Elon stood beneath the tower, illuminated by the single beam of light falling from the Eye of Grindelwald—a necessary stage light, yet carrying an ineffable meaning in the eyes of the audience.

Elon stopped looking at the night sky and the audience, and instead looked at the two speech drafts on the podium.

The one on the left was prepared by Jenny. Elon knew that his mother did not support his ideas; she just couldn't do anything about her son. This speech was no different from the speeches given by councilors at the Arcane Festival in the past, praising some vague and ethereal things and saying pretty words like a toast.

The speech manuscript on the right consisted of only one sheet of paper and one sentence—a casually copied line of poetry that, from a classical perspective, seemed out of place.

The bleak autumn wind blows again today, but the world has changed.

Wang.

Encouraging barks echoed from below the stage. Elon felt the air fill his chest, and when he looked up, one hand was already on the podium, the speech his mother had given him crumpled in his palm. The circular, spiderweb-like microphone recorded his voice, which traveled through layers of arcane nexus, and finally, his booming words resounded from every corner of the spaceport—

“I promise that if I am elected as a member of parliament, Eswell will establish a social pension and medical insurance system for all citizens. This system will be a public welfare program, with contributions made monthly by business owners and insured individuals in proportion to their contributions.”

A rustling sound gradually arose.

"Aishwell will stipulate a minimum weekly wage, guaranteeing that everyone, whether refugee, immigrant, orc, or anyone coming to Aishwell to do any work, will have a wage sufficient to make ends meet. If the actual take-home pay is lower than this amount, the employer will be considered to have broken the law."

More and more people are covering their mouths while talking.

"The Aiswell Labor Protection Act will be revised, and I guarantee it will be enforced as strictly, thoroughly, and effectively as the Tax Act and the Property Rights Act! Heavy manual labor will be prohibited from employing children and the elderly, and all cases of work-related injuries, illnesses, or deaths will be converted to public prosecutions—"

The conversation turned into a commotion, and at the same time, a commotion arose from the citizens waiting for the fireworks outside the airport, as if a tsunami was crashing on the shore before an earthquake.

"Within five years, a number of public hospitals and basic education colleges will be built throughout Eswell to cover its five million residents. At the same time, we will establish the second universal higher education examination in Temuran's history, and the government will provide interest-free student loans to high-achieving citizens."

This time, even the bankers with good relations with the Branson family couldn't sit still; commotion and discussion rose and fell. But then, Elon's voice, like a thunderclap, silenced everything:
"I, Elon Branson, promise that if elected as a member of parliament, I will push for parliamentary reform. Every member of parliament will be a citizen loyal to Axwell, not a supporter of the interests of any other country! We will relax the residency requirements. As long as you have worked diligently and paid taxes in this city for more than seven years, and have no criminal record or are wanted by other countries, you can become a citizen of Axwell, whether you are a refugee from the Western Continent, an orc who cannot obtain residency in the Southern Continent, or an orphan without parents!"

".at last."

"Ashville will renegotiate all military protection agreements with the Kingdom of Ron and the Kingdom of Britain! The air force will be expanded to five thousand men this year to ensure the defense of our city and the new laws!!!"

The entire room fell silent, all eyes focused on his somewhat young face, even too young for his explosive speech. He straightened his collar and then bowed slightly.

Scattered applause broke out, with only a handful of people clapping among the thousands present.

The Speaker of the Council, representing the interests of the Empire in Eswell that amounted to nothing more than the title of a suzerain state, Elon's mother Jenny and sister Chaldale, along with some members of the Branson family and airport employees.

They clapped their hands in the deathly silence, which was filled with scrutiny and even cold indifference. Jenny clapped while glancing at her business partners with whom she usually had a good relationship, but they all returned her apologetic looks, and some even glared at her angrily.

Just as Chaldale's hands were turning red from clapping so hard, and Jenny's fake smile was about to freeze, a powerful clapping sound came from above the airport. It was a young black man in a white suit who was looking up at Elon. It was a look that was almost never seen on the face of this gang leader, a look of scrutiny, a look of amazement, and a look mixed with inexplicable emotions.

It's unimaginable how powerful his big hands were. Just one person clapping could make the sound echo in all directions of this circular airport. But soon it wasn't just him. A group of fierce-looking men stood up, standing on chairs, stepping on other people's bags, and riding on their brothers' shoulders. They didn't just clap; they also whistled and pulled out machetes, banging them around like thugs cheering for a stripper's pornographic performance.

The harassed audience members lowered their heads and tried to be as docile as possible. They knew they could stop clapping and Elon wouldn't bother them, but these guys were different. They were genuine gangsters who held grudges for a long time.

The vast airport, the densely packed audience, the boundless, cloudless night, the brightly lit city—the atmosphere that should have been relaxed because of the festival was frozen, heavy like a mountain looming in the air. On one side were a few oddly eccentric, almost comical, applauders, while on the other side were the vast majority of silent audience members. These elites of Eswell were expressing their anger in silence.

A fervent cheer echoed from beyond the airport, the sound of citizens and the public reaching a fever pitch. It seemed that in just one night, with word spreading and the morning papers filling the air, the working class of Eswell—especially Westwell—would be engulfed in a frenzy of celebration. But these sounds were blocked by the high walls; only indistinct shouts could penetrate, unable to shake the silence of the elites seated within the airport.

No matter how much ordinary people shout, they cannot shake the class structure forged by arcane magic and mystery.

But just then, in an inconspicuous corner amidst the cold, hard standoff between the two sides, a very faint, yet desperate, round of applause rang out—

She was a slender girl dressed in ordinary clothes. She was the only one clapping around her, and she seemed quite embarrassed, lowering her face. However, she still raised her hand and clapped her hands. Her curly ponytail swayed back and forth, making her look very cute.

Sitting next to her were two men, one older and one younger, who appeared to be her father and brother. The father looked helpless; he had tried to stop her but couldn't, while the younger brother covered his sister's face with one hand and his own with the other, repeatedly whispering, "Just participate a little, sis, stop filming," indicating that he was somewhat bold but not very active.

Everyone wanted to see who would be the next to clap, and right at the very front of the audience, in the area with the best view of the stage but only a few people were seated, a handsome young man casually turned around and looked back. When he saw the clapper's dark brown ponytail, he was stunned for a moment, and then joined in the clapping.

The two girls sitting around him clapped along happily, though they didn't understand why he was clapping.

So, the middle-aged or elderly people in front also clapped along. They were quite indifferent to Elon's speech, but since the students had already applauded, they shouldn't leave them feeling lonely.

When the silent audience noticed the newly joined applauders sitting in the area reserved for the academy, it was a brief yet seemingly endless two or three seconds before the silence crumbled like an avalanche. Whether they liked it or not, they all broke into radiant smiles—smiles even brighter than when the councilors read their toasts on stage in previous years. Before Xia Dai'er, whose palms ached from clapping, could even understand what was happening, a deafening roar of applause engulfed her.

Elon, who had been silent all along, finally smiled. He first bowed slightly to the teachers and students of the academy, and then, like a victor, basked in the overwhelming applause. He knew that now he was the one who could stand by and watch.

I won't say anything, but your applause can't stop. But Elon didn't deliberately wait too long; he quickly smiled and patted the microphone, indicating that everyone didn't need to be afraid of eating seaweed and egg drop soup.

"Ah, I'm sure you all have a lot of doubts. After all, if we want to implement new laws and parliamentary reforms, we still need to rely on all of you here today."

"First, I, Elon Branson, can guarantee one thing: regardless of any laws or regulations, all Branson family businesses in Ashville will be the first to implement them within three months. This will be far more acceptable than you imagine; it only requires sacrificing a little bit of profit—a little bit that will make this city a better place. After discussion in Parliament, these new laws will be implemented in a mild form."

On the tenth floor of the warehouse district, watching the applause grow from nothing to something, Ike, who seemed to have the entire city's elite united by Elon, put his hands down.

"Tsk tsk, I'm afraid the first new senator in Eswell's history to get more than 95 percent of the vote is about to be born."

He wasn't going to listen to the rest of the rambling. He turned to Quinn, who had disappeared into the shadows as soon as he clapped, and asked with a smile, "What do you think?"

"The Branson family has far fewer businesses outside the city."

So you think it's feasible?

"..." Quinn forced a stiff smile. "He has a lot of ideas. What about you?"

"Heh," Ike picked up a glass of red wine from the ground and poured himself half a glass: "If your college supports him, then it will definitely work."

"I'm asking for your opinion on the content of his speech."

Quinn stared into Ike's eyes from the shadows: "What do you think?"

"In what capacity are you asking this? Are you from the academy assessing the political leanings of a lowly gangster, or are you a member of Golden Wind trying to gauge the boss's intentions?"

"Regarding what he said," Quinn took a deep breath, his eyes brightening slightly, "does it sound familiar?"

"familiar?"

Ike took a sip of his drink. "No, this is the first time I've heard this. If these words hadn't come from a senator who might have the backing of the Academy, I would have thought he was crazy."

Quinn was silent for a moment, then answered as if answering a question: "Is it because without armed struggle, it is impossible to completely control the means of production, thus leading to class corruption and the failure of the revolution?"

Ike blinked, his face full of genuine confusion.

"As expected of an academy teacher, the words they utter are as incomprehensible as arcane magic. Revolution? Why did it fail? Why not just enact laws? With the academy's support, why fear dissent?"

"."

Quinn reverted to his cold demeanor.

"My students are here. I'll let you know when the next trading session will be."

Ike nodded slightly.

However, unlike before the time rewind, he did not remain silent when Quinn left.

"I will help Elon, as long as he's willing to help a gang. This has nothing to do with the Academy. When I was a kid, someone asked me if I wanted to join a country, and I refused. It's actually quite a shame, but I don't even have any Elswell citizenship yet, haha."

Quinn paused on the stairs, finally saying, "The Academy's investigation into the Golden Wind will not end because of my interference."

"so?"

“That government-in-exile in Dhenkan, you need to hand over half of your people. My friend needs to give me an account of his work.”

".Ah."

Ike tossed the nearly empty bottle of red wine over.

"Welcome to Golden Wind."

Quinn caught it and walked downstairs while drinking.

Until his footsteps disappeared in the stairwell, Ike suddenly slammed his head against the wall like a madman. His dark head was incredibly hard, but the wall was instantly cracked with spiderweb-like fissures.

"Damn it! Shut the fuck up! You don't say a word all day, but you keep talking. You think you've won a Nobel Prize? I think you've won a Nobel Prize for all you do—"

He muttered to himself, somewhat exasperated, "Who cares if you can tell the difference? Are you crazy? 'I can't tell, I really can't tell.' You think you can tell the difference?"

After things finally calmed down, Ike leaned against the wall, watching the lively opening of the gala, and asked helplessly:

"So what exactly are you choosing between these two options?"

(End of this chapter)