Extreme Cold Era: Shelter Don't Keep Waste-Chapter 904 - 132:

"Have you heard? The Regent King of Victory is planning to build a new Energy Tower in the city. They say even our slum might enjoy the heating from the warm field!" In a dilapidated courtyard in the slums of Marsel City, several women wrapped in patched aprons were sitting around a nearly extinguished brazier.

In the basin, only a few faint sparks were flickering under the ashes—it was their helpless attempt at saving fuel. After all, here, every piece of firewood was as valuable as gold.

"Dear God!" A haggard woman carefully used Tongs to uncover the ashes, revealing the dark red embers beneath: "If only it could come true... maybe this winter..."

She extended her frostbitten fingers towards the charcoal basin, trying to absorb as much warmth as possible.

"Stop dreaming!" Old Martha suddenly spat, looking warily around: "When have those Victorians ever been kind to us? The money to build the tower will just come from squeezing us!"

As she spoke, she moved her frozen feet closer to the brazier, her worn wooden shoes making a harsh scraping sound on the ground.

Erin, a young mother holding a baby, timidly interjected: "But... if it really could..."

Her words were cut off by a biting wind, causing the baby in her arms to start crying uneasily.

"Foolish girl!" Anna, the stout laundress, scolded in a low voice, glancing nervously at the alleyway: "My husband heard at the construction site that they plan to expropriate the surrounding land to build the tower. They're trying to drive us out of the homes we've lived in for generations, to make room for those damned Victorian lords!"

Her rough hand instinctively touched the piece of wood shavings in her apron pocket, ultimately unwilling to throw it into the brazier.

The sparks in the brazier dimmed even further.

Old Martha skillfully covered it with ashes again. Since the Victorians took over here, every piece of firewood had become a luxury.

Last winter, the blacksmith Tom was beaten to death in the market for a bundle of firewood.

"Remember last year when they promised to improve the water supply?" The haggard woman smiled bitterly, her fingers unconsciously twisting the frayed edges of her apron: "In the end, the water fee tripled! Now, my John has to line up at the public well before dawn every day..."

She suddenly fell silent because the brittle sound of breaking charcoal came from the brazier—that signified the last bit of warmth was about to disappear.

Erin's eyes suddenly reddened, and her voice choked: "We... we can't even afford to light a brazier at home... Yesterday Pierre took the last door panel..."

She couldn't finish, but everyone understood where that rickety door panel went.

The cold wind crept in through the wall cracks, lifting the ashes in the brazier, much like their shattered hopes.

After a long silence, Old Martha shakily stood up: "Let's disperse! Save these sparks so we can warm yesterday's black bread tonight..."

Her hunched silhouette seemed especially frail in the cold wind.

The others also quietly got up, each casting a reluctant glance at the dying embers before leaving—that was the last bit of mercy winter left them.

-----------------

"Regent, regarding the Energy Tower construction plan, there's a significant opposition among the French community in the city. Rumors say we might expel the French from the areas designated for the Energy Tower's construction." An official reported the situation to Perfikot.

He looked a bit tense, after all, he was newly promoted.

And his predecessor was embedded in the wall of his office, which was also the predecessor's office.

Perfikot ultimately couldn't resist. When replacing the Governor and the local garrison commander, he also had those two vermin cemented into the wall.

Along with them, a large batch of other Marsel officials who were just taking up space.

Some were cemented into the most conspicuous places on the Energy Tower, mainly the Governor of Marsel and some officials with significant public grievances.

The others were cemented into their own offices to serve as a deterrent to successors.

As one of, if not the most powerful Alchemist in Victory or even the human world, Perfikot could ensure those cemented into the walls remained alive, forcing them to chant confessions that drove their successors to work with high efficiency.

So far, this had proved to be an excellent supervisory method.

Terror Statue: Work Efficiency +50%

In Perfikot's eyes, that was the greatest function of those cemented into the walls.

Admittedly, the results they yielded once cemented were far greater than when they were outside.

Facing the official's trembling report, Perfikot simply said he understood.

He was already aware of how the French of Marsel would react.

The previous officials' atrocities towards the Marsels: forced labor, exorbitant taxes, arbitrary arrests… Those fools turned the entire Marsel area into a living hell just to line their own pockets.

How could these scarred French possibly believe in Victory's sudden "kindness"?

However, Perfikot had no intention of wasting time soothing or explaining.

Their attitude was irrelevant; her plan would not change due to anyone's opposition.

If they obediently complied, Perfikot wouldn't mind their mutterings, even tolerating some minor non-cooperation. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

But if these French dared to show unrest after Perfikot improved their living conditions, she wouldn't hesitate to conduct another large-scale suppression, even a purge.

Perfikot improved the mines' working environment and the French living conditions purely for pragmatic reasons.

The parasitic fools' oppressive methods severely hindered productivity, and that was all.

As for the feelings and thoughts of these French, they were of no importance to Perfikot.

As for whether these "favors" could make the French grateful, a mocking curve appeared at Perfikot's lips.

She knew too well that once starving people received bread, their next step was often to demand more.

She didn't mind bestowing some food and a warm place, but if these people dared to mistake her pragmatic policies for weakness…

The official keenly sensed the change in the room's atmosphere and swallowed unconsciously.

"Go," Perfikot suddenly interrupted the official's wild thoughts, "Continue to monitor the trends in the French Community and report daily."

Her gaze fell back to the document, as if the fleeting murderous intent had never existed, "Remember, I want accurate data, not hearsay rumors."

The young official, as if granted amnesty, hurriedly bowed and left.