Hodgson called for a show of hands, but there was still silence below.
The council members looked at each other, none willing to be the first to express their stance.
Hodgson grew impatient.
He pointed to a middle-aged man, "You have a big stake in the food trade, you speak first."
The one pointed out by the chairman of the council was the council member Wohan.
Throwing caution to the wind, he stood up, "We cannot accept the governor's demands, it's too much! He has never done anything for us, yet repeatedly asks for our supplies! Last time, it was for supplies for the slaves he brought along, and the burden of those three thousand people was already heavy enough. This time is even worse! One hundred tons of food! Ten thousand textile articles! Does our governor even understand the concept of these amounts?!"
"But we must obey the governor's orders," said another person helplessly, "otherwise, we'll be seen as rebels. The Colossal Cannon doesn't reason, we… we can't do without the empire's aid in supplies, nor can we do without interstellar trade, and it all has to be signed off by the governor."
Wohan sneered, "You, prospering as Blackbird Heavy Industries' broker in interstellar trade, care about trade shares, you naturally rush to lick the governor's ass, not caring whether Revival City's economy can withstand it or not."
The named man retorted immediately, "You've hoarded two months worth of food, just waiting for the winter to raise the prices. The food you send to the governor will come from your stockpile, delaying your chance to make a profit, right? You are the one exposing Revival City to the Colossal Cannon by your disregard of the governor's commands!"
Seeing the council members below about to start arguing again, Hodgson had to bang on the table once more.
"Enough, stop arguing," Hodgson's withered voice rose, "I asked you to vote, not to repeat your reasons, I just want an answer. When you vote, think for yourself: if you give the supplies, where to allocate them from; if not, how to deal with interstellar trade quotas, empire aid quotas, and orbital strike deterrent. Now, vote, those in favor of abiding by the governor's orders, raise your hand. Those who don't raise their hand are against it, there are no abstentions."
After finishing, he raised his hand helplessly.
Once he took the lead, the other council members, hesitant, reluctant, but eventually one after another, raised their hands.
In the end, even Wohan, who had earlier ranted about whether 'the governor understands the concept of one hundred tons of food, ten thousand textile articles,' also raised his hand helplessly.
This elicited a sneer from the bystanders.
Unable to retort, he could only mutter quietly, "What can I do? Are we really going to give up our quotas? Damn… this governor is really outrageous; why doesn't he just stay put in Revival City? At least then we'd have nineteen ways to make him behave..."
"Watch your words!" growled Hodgson hoarsely.
The man obediently closed his mouth, though his gaze still held a trace of defiance.
…
After the meeting, Hodgson sat in his wheelchair, pushed back to his room by a young man.
The young man did not leave, but reported an issue, "Grandfather, after the meeting ended, Wohan convened his supervisors and reached out to several mercenary brokers."
"He wouldn't dare harm the governor, he couldn't bear that price."
"But he might target the goods soon to be shipped from Revival City."
Hearing this, Hodgson said expressionlessly, "Let him be, whatever the consequences, he'll bear them himself. Just keep an eye on him and his people, see what exactly they do."
"I'm worried he will enrage the governor and bring disaster upon Revival City."
"Ah…" Hodgson sighed, "what can be done about that? I may be the chairman of the council, but that is all I am. Even if I knew about this, how could I stop Wohan?"
His voice held a tinge of desolation.
It was his grandson, standing behind him, who offered words of comfort, "On the first day the governor arrived, he publicly declared his manifesto, saying he wanted to rebuild the Wasteland World and improve everyone's life. He likely won't easily let anger towards the whole of Revival City lead to irrational actions."
"Huh," Hodgson chuckled dryly.
"You don't trust this new governor?"
"No, I always trust the governor," Hodgson waved his hand, "Only the governor can save Rage Owl Star."
But what he didn't say to his grandson was the other half of his thought:
"I just don't know if it will be this governor."
...
Gu Hang received a message from Revival City, saying that they had agreed to his request, but it would take eight days to transport the designated supplies to the specified location.
He was a little surprised; these people had agreed too readily, and he had thought there would be more haggling.
But it didn't matter. Although the outcome wasn't what he had hoped for, the supplies were real. In the end, it wasn't a loss.
It was still early, and he didn't dwell on this matter any longer.
Yan Fangxu should be back soon, because Gu Hang had already seen the battle settlement interface pop up on the system.
[A Complete Victory, Awarded 1 Favor]
[Losses: 0, Enemies Killed: 45, Prisoners Taken: 13]
[First Automachinary Battalion - First Company: Losses: 0, Enemies Killed: 38]
[Navy Marine Corps: Losses: 0, Enemies Killed: 7]
Earlier, he had sent Yan Fangxu to lead a team to eliminate the remaining 'Prisoners of Death,' where there were only a small number of defenders, and the infirm, women, and children.
As expected, his people suffered no losses while completely annihilating the enemy.
According to Gu Hang's orders, all the remaining 'Prisoners of Death' should have been executed.
He had no intention of sparing these cannibals, these plunders who trafficked in human lives.
Their bodies were hung in their destroyed camp, using their blood to write a warning:
"The fate of cannibals!"
As for receiving 1 Favor after the battle, it was within expectations; the enemy was too weak to offer much of a reward.
He didn't care much about it.
Once Yan Fangxu returned, he had new tasks to assign to the captain from the Navy Marine Corps.
Afterward, he checked on the two Black Box Manufacturing Machines.
These two machines were located not far from the camp, guarded by dedicated soldiers in the Mech Servant Battalion, who had constructed a makeshift factory around them. Other than the authorized workers, no one else was allowed inside.
When Gu Hang arrived, both machines were in operation.
Earlier, a batch of ore had been transported from the Abandoned Cave Society and was now in place.
The ore was fed into the machines by the workers, and the Black Box Manufacturing Machines began to operate. Noises of grinding, vibrating, and high-temperature treatment emanated from them, but they were not too loud.
The materials fed into the Black Box Manufacturing Machines underwent a series of mysterious and unknowable changes and eventually transformed into high-quality alloy steel, which was then ejected from the output.
The gleaming alloy ingots, perfectly demonstrating their strength and toughness, were made of top-quality material directly outputted by the Black Box Manufacturing Machines.
The workers, who had been waiting nearby, then carried this produced alloy steel to the input of another manufacturing machine.
Then, the parent Black Box also began its work, and soon after, an important component for constructing a smelting furnace was ejected from the output and pulled to another side of the warehouse by the workers.
There, a considerable number of parts had already been stacked, including large, one-piece castings and smaller, yet precise parts.
They were sorted and stored, waiting to be transported back to the Abandoned Cave Society, where they could be assembled on-site into a smelting furnace capable of producing alloy steel.
Gu Hang was very satisfied.