Becoming an Emperor Starting from the World of The Wandering Earth

The world is constantly changing, yet it seems to have remained the same.

UEG continues to strive for the continuation of human civilization, while the poor and struggling lower classes continue to struggle for their daily meals.

But in the factory district on the outskirts of Houston, it was bustling with activity.

A large group of workers dressed in Moss Energy uniforms are dismantling a small energy station.

Several American police officers were also present, having set up a cordon. Thomas had specifically dispatched them to maintain order at the scene.

Outside the cordon, Dickens, the station owner who was as fat as a pig, was kneeling in the mud, digging at the mud mixed with rainwater in front of him with his hands, his fat face trembling.

"No...you can't demolish it...this is my fan site...mine..."

But nobody paid him any attention.

Inside the cordon, workers from Mo's Energy were using welding torches and crowbars to dismantle the outdated energy storage device into pieces.

Sparks flew and the screech of metal tearing apart drowned out Dickens's cries.

The American police officers standing nearby, with cigarettes in their mouths and guns in their hands, casually glanced around.

For them, it's just a formality.

Thomas has already given instructions that all of Mo's Energy's actions are legal, compliant, and have all the necessary permits. Anyone who causes trouble will be taken away.

Dickens knelt there, seeing that his cries were useless and that his energy station, which he had run for twelve years, was about to be demolished.

Suddenly, he stood up abruptly, turned around, and roared at the dozen or so workers standing blankly inside the cordon.

"What are you all still standing there for?!"

"Watch them tear it down?! That's your livelihood! That's where you feed your families!!"

The workers were stunned.

Someone subconsciously took half a step forward, then shrank back.

Seeing this, Dickens became even angrier.

"I may not have treated you well, but go ask around! In this world, who the hell treats workers well?!"

"UEG? Those officials are giving you moldy bread! Beans mixed with sand! Mo's Energy? They're capitalists! Capitalists who want to squeeze you dry like rats!!"

"They've dismantled the station, so you'll be begging on the streets tomorrow! And freezing to death under the bridge the day after!!"

"Even if I'm a bastard, at least I'll give you a place to work and food to eat!!"

"You fucking just stand by and watch?!"

As Dickens recounted his story and cried out, the previously bewildered workers seemed to begin to waver.

Dickens was right. Although their jobs were terrible, in this day and age, having a job at all was a blessing.

If they lose this job, their entire family will starve to death.

Seeing that his encouragement was effective, Dickens immediately rallied the workers even more vigorously.

"Yes! That's it! They've demolished the station, so you'll be begging on the streets tomorrow! And freezing to death under the bridge the day after! And you're just going to watch?!"

The workers began to stir.

Several strong young men clenched their fists, their eyes fixed on the construction team inside the cordon.

Outside the cordon, more and more homeless people and nearby residents stopped in their tracks, and some even began to mutter curses.

Just then, a middle-aged man wearing dark gray overalls, with a Mo's Energy badge pinned to his chest and a megaphone in his hand, slowly walked out from behind the construction team.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please be quiet."

The sound coming from the loudspeaker wasn't deafening, but it was clear enough amidst the noise of people.

The commotion in the crowd subsided slightly, and dozens of eyes turned to him.

"My name is Carey Clive, communications officer for Mox Energy, and also the on-site manager for this demolition operation."

Carey held the megaphone to his mouth, his gaze sweeping over the angry faces outside the police line before finally settling on Dickens, then dismissively looking away.

"Gentlemen, I know what you're thinking. You think we're here to take away your jobs and cut off your livelihood."

Kerry's voice was calm, showing no anger despite the insults he had just received.

"But I'm going to tell you why we're dismantling this website."

Kelly paused, then turned his gaze to the workers.

"The United Government's Department of Earth Energy issued a new energy allocation directive last month. In order to ensure the energy supply for the planetary engines and to ensure basic electricity for 300,000 people in the Houston area, all small energy storage stations with an operating efficiency of less than 60 percent must be shut down or dismantled, and available equipment and energy quotas must be allocated to more efficient stations."

"This directive is stamped by the Texas Energy Administration and filed with UEG. You can check it or ask any official agency."

Some people in the crowd were stunned.

Dickens's smug expression froze for a moment, then he roared, "Bullshit! You're talking nonsense! When has UEG ever cared about small sites like us?! They have no idea how we survive!"

"They really don't know."

Kerry didn't refute, but instead nodded. "But they know the planetary engines can't be stopped. They also know that your station is only operating at 22% efficiency. That means that nearly 80% of the energy you consume every day is wasted. And this wasted energy could have been sent to hospitals, to relief stations, to places that need electricity more."

The crowd fell silent for a few seconds.

A young worker who had been clenching his fist just moments before slowly relaxed it.

"But...but this is our livelihood..."

Another worker spoke up, his voice no longer sharp with anger, but filled with bewilderment and despair: "Without this station, where will we work? What will happen to our families?"

Dickens immediately seized the opportunity: "Right! What are you going to do?! They'll tear it down and leave, what about you?!"

Carey looked at him, and a change finally appeared in his eyes.

But the change was fleeting, and things quickly returned to calm.

"Mr. Dickens, in the twelve years you've run this station, how much have you paid your workers? Have you bought them insurance? Have you ever provided them a hot meal?"

Dickens opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"You just said that even if you're a bastard, at least give them a place to work and food to eat."

Kerry took a step forward. "Then let me ask you, what kind of life are you giving them? Twelve hours a day, no rest days, no overtime pay, no safety protection, and if they die, you only get a few hundred credits in compensation."

Carey turned around, faced the workers, and raised the megaphone.

"Gentlemen, on behalf of Mr. Murphy and on behalf of Murphy Energy, I apologize to you."

As he spoke, Kerry bent down and bowed deeply to the workers, the whole process appearing completely genuine.

"Apologize? Apologize for what?" someone asked blankly.

"Well said."

Carey straightened up and his gaze swept across their faces one by one.

"Mr. Murphy once said that workers are the cornerstone of this country and the last people who should be forgotten in this collapsing world."

"We're here to dismantle this site today not to take away your livelihoods, but to bring you hope."