Ice Vapor Goddess

Chapter 106 Sanitary Napkins

Frost congeals on the ground, isolating the putrid and filthy things. Handcrafted rabbit fur boots tread across the clean frost, past the shivering people.

In the center of the house is a pool of water enclosed by stones. The clear water reflects intricate lines, like a huge ball of intertwined yarn.

But if an engineer or mechanic were here, they would vaguely sense that this was a three-dimensional blueprint of the Speyside steam pipes.

Moreover, it is so detailed that it is almost perfect.

Almost no one could create such blueprints, not even the original designers. The design team only made plans for the functions and main pipelines, and many pipelines were modified later based on requirements and problems that arose on the construction site.

But now, many places have turned bright red.

“So beautiful…” he murmured to himself, “like an ash tree.”

No one responded.

After a long while, a disciple whispered, "After this round of sacrifices, the progress will probably increase by 8%. It's a pity that the police station wasn't violent enough. If they had killed more people on site, the effect would have been even better."

The cult leader nodded: "Next time, make it more humiliating, like writing on the wall with blood, or just capturing the sheriff's wife to sacrifice. Creativity—I need creativity."

The disciples stood by, not daring to speak.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and a person walked in.

"You're here. How is it?" he asked.

“Very good, at least much better than those useless men under your command,” she said, her voice clearly that of a woman.

"They are simply not evolved enough," the cult leader said gently, with affection and compassion.

She snorted and then said, "Four people from the textile industry, three from the farm, and two from the ranch are all willing to join us and have agreed to secretly control the workers."

"Is it credible?"

She raised an eyebrow: "Nothing is absolutely credible; it's just a matter of whether you can afford the risks. Don't you understand?"

“Tell me, how many risks are there?” He turned and sat in a velvet chair in the room, giving his disciple a gesture.

The disciple, feeling as if he had been granted a pardon, quickly grabbed the freshly caught offerings and ran to the next room.

"The managers of the farm area were mainly dissatisfied with the church. The church took away their land, and even when the collective switched to growing potatoes, they insisted on growing a little of everything and made some of the money that belonged to them."

"The ranch managers were mainly dissatisfied with the governor, who forcibly converted part of the ranch into three-dimensional farmland, causing some managers to lose their property, and others to feel the same way."

“The four people in the textile industry are even more ridiculous.” She sneered, as if recalling something amusing.

"Mathilde of the Evangelical Fellowship bought a factory and planned to open a textile factory with fixed nine-hour workdays, a fresh air system and protective facilities, and high salaries. Then four other textile companies joined forces against her."

"First, they targeted her employees, spreading rumors about infectious diseases and refusing to let those who had worked for her work elsewhere. But she only hired single, unemployed women who were already unemployed and didn't care about finding work later." "After that failed, they started targeting her products, claiming that all the clothes except for those from the four brands were made with inferior fabrics and toxic dyes. Clothing not from the four brands would not be allowed to be displayed in the store, and if they saw their workers wearing those clothes, they would confiscate them."

"Guess what she did?" the woman asked.

The cult leader did not answer, but just sat there without saying a word, perhaps recalling the words and actions of a certain analyst and making some clumsy imitations.

The woman, feeling awkward, pouted and said, "She doesn't weave clothes, she makes sanitary napkins."

"What did you say?" The cult leader was taken aback.

"Sanitary napkins were produced by manufacturers before the apocalypse, but she was the first to mass-produce them and advertise them," she said, a hint of admiration in her voice. "I'm using them now, they're very comfortable and don't leak easily. I can only say that women really understand women."

The cult leader's expression stiffened slightly. After thinking for a long time, he roughly understood what it was.

"It's secured with a strap, similar to a garter belt. It's a long, white strip of cloth filled with absorbent padding. The outer layer is washable, and the padding is disposable," the woman explained. "Wealthy women can buy expensive medical fiber cotton from them, while women without money can fill it themselves with scraps of cloth, so all social classes are satisfied."

"I heard she's also planning to research elastic, form-fitting underwear so that sanitary napkins can be pressed directly against the body. People have complained to her that the support straps are easy to come undone and are very uncomfortable. If she really develops it, my life should be much more comfortable."

The woman, with her legs crossed, talked animatedly until the cult leader, unable to bear it any longer, said, "Alright, that's not what we're here to talk about."

She shrugged: "Okay, okay, you'll never understand how fed up I was with stuffing cotton down there. Anyway, those four textile factories were caught off guard by Mathilde, so they really hate the Gospel Church. Our business was also hindered because of the Gospel Church, right? The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

"An enemy? But judging from your expression, you seem to admire her quite a bit," the cult leader said.

“It’s the same whether you defeat them and take them,” she said softly. “Survival of the fittest.”

The cult leader nodded: "Survival of the fittest."

“That’s why I said your thinking is flawed.” The woman continued, seemingly unconcerned about the authority of the cult leader in front of her. “The ones who truly survive are the managers, the new aristocracy. They fight their way up from the bottom. If they can’t survive, they have to die. Only the winners have the opportunity to enjoy power. They understand us better than those ignorant commoners.”

“…Perhaps,” he said, then fell silent for a moment.

"Perhaps that's true, but you can't fully understand me."

"You can't understand how much those lowly people want to live and become stronger. They would frantically squeeze into any hole they could find, and they would scramble across any single-plank bridge they could find."

“We do these things not only for those who understand us, but for everyone. We cannot abandon any group; we must let everyone share in our glory,” he said softly, hiding his expression in the shadows.

"I truly hope that each of us can live well, live in this frozen wasteland, whether we are rich or poor, everyone can be elevated."

He looked up at the woman, his eyes smiling, with a slight, crystalline glint.

"Although things don't always go as I wish, I really want to save everyone."

(End of this chapter)