The Impure's Gold Vein (1)
After dictating a preliminary report to Gao Xusen, I left the Guangzhou Public Security Bureau headquarters and borrowed an undercover vehicle from the Patrol Police Detachment. I spent the time scouting the battlefield.
Guangdong's urban sprawl, the pinnacle of haphazard development, was a patchwork quilt of order and chaos, wealth and poverty, cleanliness and filth stitched together without rhyme or reason. The slums clustered like mold in every corner of the city were all potential breeding grounds for the Black Sea Party. The terrified Communists were treating ragged workers as latent criminals, and the military and Public Security's heavy-handed crackdowns were only fueling a vicious cycle that alienated the people.
In this mess, tracking the Black Sea Party by spotting distant shifts in mana fields from afar was damn near impossible. Circuits were opening up in the population regardless of whether the abilities were useful or not, the military and police were lumping all ability users together and driving them like cattle, and there were plenty of other groups acting in packs too. The mob smashing up the Kentucky Fried Chicken outlet right in front of me was a prime example.
"Let's fight with the spirit of loyalty to the Party and love for the country! Drive the American imperialists from this land!"
A man with a red armband and a red megaphone bellowed the words like he was coughing up blood. If you judged by sheer passion alone, he was a patriotic martyr through and through. His cries drew angry roars from the crowd here and there in response.
"Anyone selling American goods is America's dog! Anyone buying American goods is America's dog too!"
"Judge the pro-American collaborators! Execute those working for American companies!"
"Kill them! Burn them! Show the enemies of our motherland the fury of 1.4 billion people!"
The reinforced glass out front shattered with a deafening crash under the axes swung by the ability users at the front of the mob. The people who had just been selling chicken and those who had just been eating it screamed and fled inside, or up to the second and third floors. But there was no escape, no matter where they ran. The mob dragged back anyone trying to slip out the back door or jump from windows. Victims of all ages and genders, their hair gripped tight, were hauled into the middle of the street and pummeled with fists and boots until they were covered in blood.
The employees got it the worst. "Please, spare us! Please!" Despite their desperate pleas, the mob tore their uniforms to shreds. Once they stripped them down to nothing, they carved seven jagged characters into their bare flesh with shards of broken glass: Nóxìng shífèn de guó zéi. Utterly slave-minded national traitors.
The victim thrashed and screamed as their flesh ripped open, limbs pinned down. "Whoa... these guys are pretty brutal," Kyung-tae would have said, and he wouldn't have been wrong.
Even amid the frenzy, the store was getting thoroughly trashed. cheered on by those without powers or with weak ones, the ability users wielding axes, bats, and steel pipes unleashed strength beyond human limits without holding back. As the mob threw itself into people's trials and destruction, a few of them spotted us watching quietly and stomped over.
The bald, burly leader at the front pounded roughly on our window. At my glance, Kyung-tae rolled it down, and the thug shoved his shiny bald head halfway inside, barking at us. "You two! You've been sitting still all this time—suspicious as hell! And what's with the dark shades hiding your eyes? You the frontmen for those American capitalist peddlers?!"
"No."
"If not, join our march and prove your innocence!"
"Prove it! Prove it!" The crowd swarmed our car, chanting it like a refrain. I pressed my pistol to the thug's forehead and flashed my Public Security badge. My men followed suit, pulling pistols from inside their coats. The nearby clamor died in an instant. Even the bald brute straightened up, plastering on a polite smile.
"We've offended you fine folks who work tirelessly day and night for the nation. Please forgive us."
"Back off."
My single word sent his shiny dome retreating from the window. I'd planned to just watch silently until the road cleared, but with our Public Security IDs exposed, staying put wasn't an option anymore. Swallowing a sigh, I opened the door and stepped out, looking down at the thug who'd already dropped to his knees. Kyung-tae and the others piled out behind me, keeping the rest of the crowd in check.
I grilled the thug. "What the hell are you idiots? Forming a gang and running wild in this situation? Didn't you hear the broadcasts telling everyone to avoid unnecessary outings?"
"Gang? Misunderstanding, sir. We're all just individuals."
"Individuals who just happen to band together? With armbands on? Who do you think you're fooling? I've been watching you."
"W-Well, it just kinda happened, uh..."
I prodded his head with my gun barrel, and he trembled like a pig on the way to slaughter, stammering. Déjà vu hit me—this scene felt familiar somehow. As I scowled, a middle-aged man in horn-rimmed glasses from the crowd piped up with excuses. "It's true coincidence! Just worried citizens out on the streets who found common cause and moved together! Red armbands are everywhere these days—top seller on online malls! Proceeds go to the Party!"
A nearby woman chimed in, emboldened. "Exactly! Even we think the odds are low and it seems weird, but it happened anyway! People we just met today united in worry for the nation! It's beautiful!"
...What nonsense. I waved my pistol at the fools. "All of you, on your knees. Save your excuses for the station."
The woman shrieked again. "This can't happen! Why is Public Security arresting patriots?!"
"Because it's the law. Kneel if you don't want to die."
With that, Kyung-tae radioed for backup on the Patrol Police channel and had his men amp up the intimidation. Spotting the shift in mood, the main body of the mob—including the ringleaders—rushed over with their naked, letter-carved prisoners leashed by the neck. Fools get braver in bigger numbers. That's what crowd psychology and collective madness are called.
The leader, briefed in whispers by the first group, forced a strained smile at me. "Ah, sir. Big misunderstanding!"
"No misunderstanding. How is what you're doing 'patriotic'? To me, you're just lawless mob scum."
"No! We're getting revenge on America! An eye for an eye! They seized our companies' and Party members' assets first—we have to hit back the same way! Let them feel our resolve loud and clear!"
What he meant was one of the U.S.'s various economic and diplomatic offensives against China: reclaiming Qing Dynasty bonds. The U.S.-held Qing bonds had long been a trivial topic with no real repayment plan in sight. But things had changed.
The White House Madman had won reelection, anti-China sentiment was rampant after the Chinese-originated pandemic, and with primitive magic ability users emerging, bipartisan calls to check China were louder than ever. Yesterday, the president issued this statement.