Beng Tie: What does it mean to broaden one's four destinies in one sentence?

His electronic eyes scanned the surrounding crowd, their red light shining steadily, seemingly calculating something.

Clara stood barefoot beside him, her eyes curiously looking around, her little hands tightly gripping Schwarz's mechanical fingers.

Oleg stood beside them, his white hair fluttering slightly in the morning breeze. Behind him stood dozens of members of the Earthfire. Seele leaned against a stone pillar in the square, her scythe tucked behind her back, appearing nonchalant, but her gaze was constantly scanning the area.

Luca and Natasha are taking care of the children.

The children looked up at the sky in amazement.

Wow! What a huge roof!

Natasha explained with a light laugh,

"That's not a rooftop, that's the sky..."

There were also more than a hundred trash cans, arms crossed, lids slightly tilted back, standing at the edge of the square, their ranks as neat as a military parade.

The silver-white "King's Bucket" at the head of the group was particularly eye-catching, its lid tilted back the highest, displaying the most arrogant posture. Several children surrounded it, their eyes wide with surprise.

Bronya took a deep breath and led Pera toward everyone.

Her gaze swept across the crowd. Oleg nodded to her, Schwarz's electronic eyes flashed, and Jepard gave a standard Iron Guard salute.

"Let's go,"

she says,

"Let's go check out the snowfield first."

The group passed through the administrative district and walked onto the road leading to Yongdong Territory.

The permafrost heaters lined up along the roadside, their orange-red light gleaming faintly in the morning light. The black permafrost stretched out beneath our feet, extending to the horizon.

A miner from the lower level squatted down, touched the soil under his feet, smelled it, and suddenly his eyes reddened.

"Mom, what are those people planting?"

A little girl from the lower-class area pointed to a field in the distance, where a group of volunteers were planting seedlings. Their movements were not very skilled, but everyone was very serious.

The little girl's mother didn't say anything, but simply picked her up so she could see further.

Oleg walked beside Bronya, looking at the black earth that had been turned upside down, and remained silent for a long time.

"Bronya, is this what you meant by... letting the people of the Lower District see this?"

She nodded.

"Some things are better seen with your own eyes than described a hundred times."

Schwarz stood at the back of the crowd, the electronic eyes scanning the wall under construction, the busy volunteers, and the winding underground heating line.

His logic module was running, but this time it wasn't analyzing the threat level.

He was analyzing something else.

Seven hundred years. Seven hundred years of wind and snow, seven hundred years of blockade, seven hundred years of despair.

But now, walls are being built, the land is being turned over, and seeds are being planted.

His electronic eyes flashed, but he said nothing.

When the people in the lower districts saw the road paved with earth marrow leading to the snowfield, the hostility in their eyes was being replaced by an indescribable emotion.

Some people said, "They're really farming," some said, "That wall was built so fast," and some said, "Those heaters... are they for the land?"

No one answered, but everyone was watching.

When Cocolia returned to Cripper Castle, everything for the coronation ceremony had already been arranged.

The podium was set up in the center of the square, directly facing the gate of Cripper Castle.

The sunlight shone directly on the stage, making the entire stage shine.

There were even more people in the square than in the morning. People from the upper and lower sections and the mechanical settlement stood shoulder to shoulder, filling the entire square.

Bronya stood alone behind the podium. Cocolia didn't go up on stage; she stood at the front of the crowd, looking up at her daughter with tender eyes.

Bronya took a deep breath.

Her gaze swept across the faces below the stage, some she recognized, some she didn't.

There are upper-class areas and lower-class areas; there are young people and old people.

There are also trash cans.

More than a hundred trash cans stood at the edge of the square, their lids all tilted upwards, as if they were listening attentively.

She was silent for three seconds.

Then she spoke.

"Seven hundred years ago, Belberg was caught in a snowstorm."

Her voice wasn't loud, but it was clear, echoing across the empty square. The audience fell silent, so quiet you could hear the wind whistling through the flagpole.

"For seven hundred years, countless people have died in this snowstorm. Some died under the claws of the monsters from the rift, some died in mine collapses, some died on the cold streets, and some died without even leaving their names."

“In the upper district, iron guards died on the city walls, and in the lower district, miners died in the mine tunnels.”

Some mothers lost their children, and some children lost their mothers. Some brothers will never see their brothers again, and some friends will never see their friends again.

Those who died, some we remember by name, some we can no longer recall, all gave everything for this city.

Her voice suddenly rose, as if tearing something apart.

"But now, the roles have reversed!"

Everyone in the audience shuddered.

"We have the thawed frozen ground, the sprouting seedlings, the colossi that can clear away the snowstorm, and the mechs that can protect the city. The Rift is no longer invincible, and the snowstorm is no longer eternal. We don't need to wait any longer!"

"But these things cannot be accomplished by one person alone."

She looked at the faces below the stage.

"It's everyone."

"It is everyone who is willing to pick up a hoe and turn over the frozen soil, everyone who is willing to pick up a weapon and walk into the wind and snow, and everyone who is willing to believe that 'tomorrow will be better'."

"It's everyone in Belloberg!"

"Belberg has never lacked heroes. For seven hundred years, everyone who has lived, loved, and died here has been a hero."

But heroes are not meant to be admired; they are meant to be followed and surpassed!

"I'm not here today to be your hero."

She looked away.

“I’m here to tell you that you yourselves are Belloberg’s heroes.”

She paused, her voice lowered, but every word was firm and resolute.

Some people in the audience began to applaud.

It was sporadic, but getting louder and louder.

Bronya waited until the applause subsided slightly before continuing.

"The world belongs to all."

She said those four words very slowly.

"Belberg is not the Great Guardian's Belberg, not the Upper Belberg, not the Lower Belberg. He is everyone's Belberg."

"Everyone has the right to see the day when the snow and ice melt away."

Everyone has the right to walk on land that will not freeze.

Everyone has the right to plant their own seedling in the sunlight.

"This is not charity."

Her voice was firm.

"This is fair."

"Seven hundred years. We've waited seven hundred years. Waiting for the day the snowstorm stops, waiting for the day the rift disappears, waiting for a chance to start over..."

She paused.

"Now, there's no need to wait anymore."

She took a deep breath.

"From this day forward, there will be no more upper and lower districts in Belleburg. From this day forward, every resident of Belleburg is a builder of this city."

"People of Belloberg, you are the true masters of this city. Your sweat, your efforts, your sacrifices are the foundation upon which this city lives. This has been true for the past seven hundred years, and it will be true for the next seven hundred years."

She looked at the faces below the stage.

Some people are crying, some are laughing, some have their mouths open, and some have their fists clenched.

Finally, I only have one sentence to say—

Bronya swung her fist and raised it above her head.

"Long live the people!"