Darkstone Code-Chapter 888 - 886: Time to Go

"Why is the road so empty today?"

A playboy was driving on the famous West Coast seaside avenue, with a beautiful woman sitting in the passenger seat, his new girlfriend.

In the eyes of the rich, the Federation is like a Celestial Kingdom fallen to the mortal world; as long as you have money, you can buy anything here.

A healthy body, a longer life than others, hotter love, warmer softer bodies...

There’s nothing you can’t buy; if there is, it only means you’re not truly wealthy.

Every time he found a new girlfriend, he would bring them for a ride on this road, the most famous scenic spot in this city.

The West Coast’s level of prosperity isn’t as widespread as the East Coast; not every city is extremely prosperous, as commerce is highly concentrated in just a few cities, resulting in these cities’ wealthy people outnumbering those on the entire West Coast.

With more rich people, they want to do things like build a road that can highlight a city’s status.

Following the wide, smooth seaside highway, basking in the sea breeze, enjoying the breath of nature amidst the greenery, the sea far away is like a sapphire embedded in the ground, making one feel comfortable from the inside out.

Moreover, one side of this road is a bustling commercial center; there are stores suitable for shopping and restaurants everywhere.

Buy a few gifts that don’t hurt your wallet, have a meal together, open a bottle of wine, then rent a room next door to discuss life.

This has also led the seaside avenue to become a tourist attraction of this city, usually filled with cars and pedestrians.

Strangely, there are hardly any vehicles today.

The girl wasn’t familiar with this place, clutching the only handbag she had with her, smiling reservedly and shyly.

This trick she had learned back in high school.

After driving for a while more, a cop waving warning signs stopped them.

"Hey, there’s an operation going on ahead, you have to detour another way."

The young man glanced ahead, but there was nothing on the road, although there were some oil trucks on either side.

Detouring from here was a bit far; perhaps the local City Hall hadn’t considered the day when this extremely wide road would be requisitioned.

He slightly objected, "There’s nothing ahead, officer. I think you can let me through."

While saying this, he pulled out a twenty-dollar bill, tucked it into his driver’s license holder, and handed it over.

"If we detour, it’ll take at least twenty minutes; we’ve already booked a restaurant."

The police shook their head, "While we can still talk here, I’d advise you to turn around..."

Saying this, he glanced not far away, noticing two Security Committee Special Agents approaching.

This matter involved the lives and safety of hundreds of Federation millionaires or their relatives, and the President was very concerned, which led to the Security Committee being deployed.

The young man immediately recognized the identity of the two, relying on his family background he seemed unafraid of these privileged people.

This was also the privilege of the Federation’s wealthy.

Those who could violently break into poor people’s homes anytime, anywhere, pin down innocent families, trash their homes and finally leave with an "Oops, wrong house number."

Dealing with the rich, they became polite, they’d even pick up discarded cigarettes and pocket them, remembering not to dirty expensive floors or carpets.

Perhaps those two agents would let him pass, the young man thought—

This is the Federation people’s talent: they can recognize who’s a cop, who’s an investigator, who’s a Federation agent.

The police, watching the approaching agents, made one last effort, "I urge you best leave immediately, they’re not easy to mess with."

"It’s fine!"

The young man smiled, his father was a legislator, his mother was a local well-known company’s chairman, he enjoyed privileges here.

As the two closed in, he intended to greet them proactively, but didn’t receive a friendly response.

One agent shot him a glance, "Get out of the car, undergo inspection."

Stunned, the young man with disbelief looked at the two agents, "You know who I am..."

Facing the guns raised, he had no choice but to raise his hands, close his mouth, awkwardly get out of the car, stating his harmlessness.

As he bent over the hood undergoing a pat-down, pondering why, suddenly an unmistakable roaring sound appeared in the sky.

An aircraft swooshed by from his facing direction, descending and landing about dozens of meters away.

Those he saw earlier, those beside the road instantly rushed over, with oil trucks following.

The pilot climbed out excitedly, "I think I found them!"

This news was invigorating; a minute later, the President received the latest information, allowing him a sigh of relief.

He issued the Federation President’s highest directive—"Ensure nobody is harmed, and when necessary, you’re permitted to fire freely!"

Finding the ship relieved half of the burden, which was good news for him.

The researchers at the institute began recording various occurrences during the flight, re-testing the aircraft’s performance and metal fatigue levels.

During this period, metal fatigue was also one of the killers of aircraft, so they had to ensure that every detail was flawless.

Fortunately, the new materials were fairly satisfactory. Although there were some issues, they were minor and overall acceptable.

Of course, this satisfaction came at a price—aluminum alloy wasn’t cheap during this time!

To extend the aircraft’s range, the institute added four auxiliary fuel tanks to the plane, which were all expendable, allowing maximum flight range.

Everyone meticulously documented the pilot’s discovery of the ship’s location, while some warships on the sea began to respond, changing course.

Meanwhile, Mr. Beret stood at the bow, gazing at the sky where something buzzed back and forth.

The thing had flown away a long time ago, but for some reason, his heart was racing, with a special feeling, as if something terrible was about to happen.

He thought that this might be related to that thing flying in the sky, but the problem was, what the hell was that?

Mariluo had no aircraft exhibition, let alone any aircraft research institute.

The conflicts between warlords seemed to have plunged their technology into a state of permanent stagnation.

The warlords wouldn’t invest money in research, as the returns in this field were too long-term. Instead of letting scientists waste their already scarce budgets, they preferred buying more weapons to expand their territories.

He didn’t understand aircraft or planes at all, but he vaguely sensed that thing was related to the Federation; he might have exposed himself.

A failed raid, he told himself.

But it wasn’t entirely a failure. At least he accomplished some of his initial goals—undermining the warlord’s reputation behind Every Moment.

Without competition among major warlords, smaller warlords would have no future, compelling them to continuously challenge other smaller warlords for sustenance.

Only by shaking the major warlords could Mariluo’s current domestic pattern be broken.

Beret might not understand this; he acted on instinct, wanting to ruin the major warlords while making some money to strengthen himself.

Others dared not touch Every Moment’s ships or the tycoons aboard, but he did—that’s reputation!

When he returned to Mariluo, he would dispose of the looted items, quickly forming a professional army with the money.

The future beckoned him!

After making his decision, he immediately took action, "Hurry up, we must grab all the valuable items on the ship before nightfall."

He wouldn’t leave now; he planned to escape under the cover of night, just as he had arrived under the cover of night.

Even if the Federation people came, they wouldn’t know which way he went or how long he’d been gone.

At this moment, he even considered whether to kill everyone on the ship to silence them.

But thinking about that thing flying in the sky made him hesitate.

In making choices, the worst fear is hesitation.

When a thought arises and isn’t acted upon, it gets replaced by a second thought, hence the saying "Courage fades, and fervor cools quickly."

Everyone was orderly doing their duties.

Looting whatever wealth they could see—these were the marauder soldiers of Mariluo.

Watching others take away all their possessions, anxiously awaiting judgment—these were the ordinary passengers.

Repeatedly running the templates before persuading people to sign a check for him—this was Lynch.

Lynch’s rhythm remained undisturbed.

During dinner, Beret called Lynch over.

He sat at the table enjoying the feast; the cruise ship stocked many precious ingredients, making it feel like a festival for Beret and his men these days.

Every day was filled with good food and drink, with many Mariluo girls detained below if they had other needs.

Whether to relieve pent-up anger or other frustrations, they could be satisfied.

Eating high-quality beef, Beret suddenly became reluctant to part with his current lifestyle.

"Sit down, have you had dinner?" He gestured to a nearby chair, inviting Lynch to sit. "If you haven’t eaten, feel free to try some, this beef is delicious whether cooked or raw."

Lynch glanced at the plate before him, not cooked thoroughly; there were traces of blood on the white plate.

"I’ve eaten."

Beret casually leaned back, baring his teeth as if cleaning leftover food from his teeth with his tongue, while resting his arms on the chair’s armrests. "How’s the progress on those things you mentioned?"