Sir! Don't close the net!

Dante remained silent, regardless of his stance; this was an utterly absurd and outrageous thing.

"But I'm actually quite grateful that they're such a bunch of bastards."

Before Norman could finish speaking, Dante heard a rustling sound behind him. Turning around, he saw that the inn door had been closed, indicating that what followed was a private matter.

"Stability means that most people will become mediocre. Cruelty and survival of the fittest will unearth countless talents. Although the wasteland royal family and nobles are constantly on guard, they are guarding against the wrong thing. They have always believed that Arkham University is the bridge that threatens their status, but what truly cultivates the people they fear is the wasteland environment they themselves have created."

Dante raised an eyebrow and retorted sarcastically, "Are you suggesting... that the Jurassic Circle is the wasteland's biggest talent development market? That it's teeming with talent? If you're talking about crime, then yes, it's full of talented people."

Norman glanced at Dante, then looked up. "Before I was fifteen, I was like an idiot, wandering the streets all day long."

Dante's eyes twitched. He suspected that Norman was indirectly insulting him because he had been wandering the streets like an idiot since he was fifteen.

“At eighteen, I inherited the family business… no, more accurately, the debt, and worked my life for the Chalk Circle. At twenty-five, I lost my eligibility to work because the capital, Millennium, arbitrarily changed taxes,” Norman sighed and looked at Dante with a melancholy expression. “At twenty-seven, I joined the Mafia. At thirty-five, I rose to the position of executive. At forty-three, I replaced the Mafia godfather. If it weren’t for the capital, Millennium, I might still be sitting on the roadside selling fruit.”

Before Dante could answer, Norman raised his finger and pointed towards the inn's door.

"Pig was still frying rice noodles before he was thirty. Now he is mainly in charge of overseeing the Mafia's business. The amount of money that flows through his hands in a day is enough for him to fry rice noodles for a hundred years without sleep."

“When Snooker was 25, he was just a cement carrier, someone anyone could kick. Now, even if people from the capital, Millennium, come, they wouldn’t dare to be too casual.”

After a long silence, Dante turned his gaze away, remembering those familiar strangers.

"That's just hindsight; perhaps... they always had that ability."

"That's right, that's their inherent ability, and the harsh and chaotic environment filtered them out."

Norman leaned closer to Dante and said, “Those who are complacent and lack the will to fight become cheap labor, while those who dare to fight and strive to rise higher, even a fruit seller can become the godfather of the Mafia and run the entire Mafia.”

"So... what do you mean? You want to turn the entire wasteland into a Jurassic Circle?" Dante met Norman's gaze without flinching.

Norman grinned.

"I want to build a peaceful country with the merchants of the Cretaceous region."

Dante's pupils dilated sharply, and he fearfully averted his gaze.

Chapter 141 Our Nobility Isn't Just a Piece of Paper

A crisp knock on the door woke Carly, who was fast asleep in the corner.

Carly raised her hand to rub her sore eyes, and looked up to see Nemo standing outside the door, very gentlemanly not stepping into the lady's room.

Carly shifted her gaze slightly, raised her hand and slapped her forehead. "What time is it now?"

“Ah~ it’s almost lunchtime,” Nemo glanced to the side and shrugged at Carly. “Noon is the time when the residents of the Triassic Circle are at their least busy. I was wondering why you hadn’t come out to organize the homeless march yet. Luckily, I made a special trip to take a look.”

Carly rubbed her shoulders and twisted up and down, then pressed her knees as she got up. "I thought you were here to invite me to lunch."

Nemo paused, blinked, then chuckled for a while, rubbing his forehead before shaking his head. "Oops~ I was really rude. I just said yesterday that I would take good care of you, this excellent tool. Right, let me think..."

Nemo stroked his chin, pondered for a moment, and then smiled slightly.

"If you work hard enough this time, you will have the opportunity to dine with the Knights of the Millennium Capital. This is an honor that residents of the Triassic Circle can only dream of in their entire lives."

Carly stared at Nemo for a while before lowering her head. "Even if you don't say it, I will try my best."

“That’s really reassuring. If you need anything, just let me know,” Nemo said, raising the corner of his mouth before turning and leaving.

Carly took a deep look at Nemo's retreating figure, then glanced around the cabin, her eyelids slightly lowered. "That's great... you shouldn't have gotten involved with me."

Leaving Carly's cottage, Nemo strolled leisurely back to the mansion with his hands behind his back. Before even stepping into the living room, Nemo smelled a strong aroma of alcohol, which made him frown. He quickened his pace and entered the living room, where he saw Wilson Parr huddled on the sofa, looking like a thick phlegm dripping onto a luxurious work of art.

"Isn't this my good nephew Nemo? You seem to be in a bad mood... no."

"Is that good?" Wilson Parr stuck out his tongue, rolled a grape into his mouth, and greeted Nemo as he chewed. "Is it because of that tramp? So, I said from the beginning, don't expect these tramps to get anything done."

Nemo didn't sit down, but instead smiled politely with his hands behind his back, looking down at his uncle.

“My dear Uncle Earl, I have to do something to prove myself. Although I never had any hope, that tramp woman was more useful than I thought.”

"is it?"

"Uncle Earl, you seem quite happy. Did some good news come from Millennium?"

“It’s more than just good news,” Wilson Parr said, propping up his large body and patting his belly lightly with his right hand. “The losses suffered by the Cult of Steam and Steel are greater than we anticipated.”

"Even bigger?" Nemo raised an eyebrow.

“Even if we go out and seize the wasteland market, we can fill that huge hole, hahaha—I heard they’re secretly selling off those research results that haven’t turned into waste paper yet,” Wilson Parr couldn’t help but burst into laughter as he spoke.

Upon hearing that the Cult of Steam and Steel was secretly selling off its research findings, Nemo chuckled unconsciously. However, he was more concerned about the huge hole that Wilson Parr mentioned, a hole that even market dominance couldn't fill. Moreover, according to Wilson Parr, this unfillable hole had rendered many of the Cult of Steam and Steel's research findings worthless.

Although Nemo was very confident that the wasteland would not collapse even without the Cult of Steam and Steel, he was worried that the Cult of Steam and Steel would drag the wasteland down.

"Hmm? What else could it be? Of course, it's research on the Collapsed Sky," Wilson Parr waved his hand. "For that fragment of the sky, these bastards have provoked those lunatics from the Galar Horn countless times, and they haven't come up with a single thing."

"Really... That's wonderful."

Nemo let out a long sigh of relief.

This time he was truly relaxed. What troubled him most was not that the Church of Steam and Steel represented the wasteland and caused them to lose their monarchy, but rather the things that the Church of Steam and Steel did on behalf of the wasteland. In most cases, the Church of Steam and Steel would bring benefits, but one thing overturned all those benefits and even buried a terrible crisis for the wasteland.

That is what the Cult of Steam and Steel dared to seize from the Horn of Galar, something they were determined to obtain.

Galar Horn is a bunch of war fanatics. Even though we live in a "peaceful" era and can't start wars easily, whether or not war breaks out is entirely up to Galar Horn. In recent years, Galar Horn has been openly plundering resources everywhere, looking like they want to go to war.

Perhaps the Gazelle Horn intends to destroy the Cult of Steam and Steel. To avoid the tragedy of the wasteland being destroyed along with it, the royal family and nobles have been making diplomatic overtures to the Gazelle Horn in recent years. Recently, they have also directly sealed off the wasteland, implying that the Gazelle Horn will not touch the last piece of sky.

“By the way, I’m heading back to the capital, Millennium, today. I’ve had enough of the stupidity of the Triassic people,” Wilson Parr waved his hand. “Don’t waste your time here. The royal family is planning a ball to celebrate. Try to win over the princess; that way, your position as Earl Wilson Parr will be more secure.”

Nemo's eyes twitched violently. He took a deep breath and raised his head. "Speaking of which... my dear Count Uncle, I remember you said that Dela Pal's shadow appeared in the wasteland. He couldn't have returned here for no reason. Is it really okay to celebrate before this matter is even resolved?"

Wilson Parr paused, pondered for a moment with his chin in his hand, and then suddenly realized, "You mean this? Who knows?"

Wilson Parr's perfunctory and casual response made Nemo's lips twitch involuntarily.

"Isn't this a very serious situation?"

"This is on the premise that the Cult of Steam and Steel is still the same as before," Wilson Parr yawned deeply, his expression extremely relaxed and calm, "There is no need to be wary of the Cult of Steam and Steel, which is in dire need of its own safety."

"Be wary?" Nemo's expression was somewhat subtle.

As a nobleman, he rejected the Cult of Steam and Steel, but he also knew that such rejection stemmed from the fact that in the wasteland, they really had no power to do anything to the Cult of Steam and Steel, and the Cult of Steam and Steel did not take them seriously.

Now Wilson Parr says the wasteland royal family is wary of the Cult of Steam and Steel. What can the royal family be wary of? The Cult of Steam and Steel usurping the throne? Even now, in the eyes of the wasteland inhabitants, the true masters of the wasteland are still the Cult of Steam and Steel. Otherwise, he wouldn't need to come to the Triple Circle to play this disgusting trick of "the lives of the homeless are also lives."

"We have the noblest blood in the world flowing through our veins, and that's no exaggeration."

Chapter 142 A Miracle Built on Errors

"Noble? Or the noblest blood in the world?"

Nemo thought Wilson Parr was crazy. He was proud of being a royal nobleman of the wasteland, but he was just proud, not stupid. The wasteland was only a few hundred years old.

There wasn't even a temple in the entire wasteland.

Hagen, the capital of the world, is the richest land in the world, with the most temples. The people there truly have noble blood flowing in their veins. They are not divinely favored, yet they are infinitely close to it, possessing strong bodies, and occasionally, some are even born with extraordinary abilities.

They possessed miraculous abilities, seemingly caused by a legacy, and each of them was handsome, flawless like so-called gods.

Compared to that...

Nemo looked at the bloated Wilson Parr and couldn't help but sigh, rubbing his forehead.

Most of the wasteland royals and nobles are completely drained by their unrestrained lifestyles and lack any self-awareness. They are truly inferior to Hagen, both inside and out, in spirit and body. Now they even claim that they have the noblest blood in the world. Wilson Parr's arrogant and haughty demeanor doesn't seem like he's being given any platitudes.

Nemo hesitated for a while, unsure how to tactfully tell Wilson Parr to stop daydreaming. He could only sigh and prepare to change the subject and end this embarrassing topic. But before he could even open his mouth, Wilson Parr, as if he was getting into the swing of things, raised his hand and slapped his knee hard.

"Nemo, do you know why people of our status don't care about the power of those favored by the gods?"

Isn't it because they're afraid?

Nemo raised his eyes.

Becoming a chosen one requires absorbing the legacy of those ancient gods, which is an extremely dangerous process. Those who value their lives and are born and raised on land without any temples are neither physically nor mentally capable of becoming chosen ones.

He believed his spirit was sufficient to control the legacy of the ancient gods he had taken in.

But just as a coward will keep blaming those who dare to take risks in order to deny that he is a coward.

To avoid being seen as cowards, they belittle the chosen ones and hire them with expensive resources to show others that they are superior to the chosen ones.

"For our noble blood should not be mixed with those filthy things! Those fools who are unaware of their own ignorance, who seek the legacy of the ancient gods and desecrate our noble blood, yes, including Dela Pal, are not worthy of inheriting a noble position."

Nemo stared at Wilson Parr for a moment, then lowered his head slightly, exhaled softly, placed his left hand on his waist, and raised his right hand to wave at Wilson Parr. "My dear uncle, I understand what you mean. If there's nothing else, I'll go and attend to my business."

After saying that, Nemo turned and left.

“Oh, oh—remember what I said,” Wilson Parr waved to Nemo’s departing figure.

Nemo's eyes darted to the right, and he quickened his pace.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"Oh—isn't this our guide, Miss Carly?"

Carly had just stepped out of the gate with her right leg when she heard a slightly playful call. Turning her head, she saw a group of homeless people, led by Ryan, squatting on the ground on one side of the wall, smiling and waving at her.

Seeing Carly looking over, Ryan flicked away the half-burnt cigarette and waved at her.

"You guys have a lot of free time?"

“No, we’re busy with…the great revolution,” Lane stood up and shrugged. “Of course, all of us combined are no match for Miss Carly’s word. Now that Miss Carly has shown up, is it for another march for us?”

Before Carly could finish speaking, Ryan turned and called out to his other underlings.

"Did you hear that?! Miss Carly is going to stand up for us!"

"Oh, as expected of Miss Carly!"

"That's fantastic! That's fantastic!"

Carly stared at Ryan for a while, then turned her head and took a step.

Ryan followed behind Carly with his hands behind his back, looking like a lackey. But his arrogant and domineering expression gave the impression that Carly was just a mouthpiece for him. The other lackeys also acted like bullies, shouting and clamoring recklessly.

Carly's eyes flickered slightly. Many homeless people on the street looked delighted when they saw her, but they all looked troubled when they saw Ryan and his underlings.

Some hesitated for a moment before running off with smiles and following behind the underlings, while others followed but didn't seem to care about keeping up, maintaining a certain distance to observe the situation.

Before long, the homeless people behind Ryan gathered into a long line, moving in a mighty procession through the three-tiered circle, constantly catching up with any stragglers. Before Carly could say a word, the homeless people had already begun to loudly chant slogans that Carly had used in her previous march and speech, such as "Homeless people's lives matter too" and "Homeless people don't need to work."

Amidst this terrifying wave, the residents of San Die were forced to make way.

"Ha...are we still only playing these kinds of tricks now..."

Carly let out a long breath, her eyes utterly indifferent, as if the terrifying long line of people behind her had nothing to do with her. Following the route she had planned, she arrived at the place where she had previously given her speech at the parade. Before she could even speak, Ryan behind her raised his hand with an air of grandeur.