Empire of Shadows

Chapter 10: An Iron Nail

Late at night, the sound of rapid gunfire echoed from the direction of the port, jolting Lance awake. He quickly got up and moved to the window, looking toward the port.

The dim streetlights barely illuminated the dark road, where a few scattered rats occasionally poked their heads out of the sewers.

The gunfire continued for seven or eight minutes before the wailing of police sirens filled the night, with police cars rushing toward the port.

It seemed something serious had gone down at the port, and the gunfight in the middle of the night left him uneasy.

It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that he finally drifted back to sleep.

At 7 a.m., his alarm woke him up, and he couldn’t help but marvel at the resilience of youth. Even with only three hours of sleep, he still felt full of energy.

He rolled up his blanket from the floor and headed outside to the bakery’s sink.

The apprentice was already there, holding a cup of water from the boiler, brushing his teeth.

Everyone knew how important it was to take care of their teeth, yet few people were serious about it.

The apprentice made a few lazy strokes with his toothbrush, barely making any foam before rinsing his mouth—calling it “brushing his teeth.”

There were even mouthwashes on the market for people who pretended to care about dental health but didn’t even want to brush their teeth, claiming to be “more effective than brushing.”

Whether that was true was anyone’s guess.

Customers at the bakery that morning were all talking about the previous night’s gunfire. The Jingang Daily had a story on what happened:

"Smuggling Boat in Violent Clash with Coastal Patrol; Multiple Officers Injured and Killed"

It was the top headline, in bold print.

The picture showed a smuggling boat that had been towed to shore, riddled with bullet holes. In the black-and-white photo, some stains might have been blood—or maybe not.

The boat looked like it had been torn apart in a storm of bullets.

"...Based on a tip, the coastal patrol received word that a smuggling boat from the Eastern Ocean was attempting to approach the port at midnight. The patrol acted immediately to intercept the boat."

"During the operation, the smugglers and their handlers resisted arrest with firearms, leading to a fierce confrontation. Multiple officers were injured or killed..."

The other bakery patrons gasped, and even the chubby boss and his daughter couldn’t help but exclaim, "Oh my God!"

The guy reading the newspaper wore a satisfied smile. Attention-seekers are like that—other people can die as long as they’re in the spotlight.

He kept reading aloud, "After more than ten minutes of intense fighting, the city police finally joined forces to wipe out this group of violent smugglers."

"But as a result, four police officers have died so far, with more in critical condition."

When he finished reading, he flicked the paper with his fingers. "They must have had heavy firepower. Let’s hope those wounded officers receive the Lord’s blessing."

"These smuggling boats are disgusting. They don’t just bring rats, fleas, and cockroaches—they bring swarms of illegal immigrants."

"If you ask me, Congress should legislate the death penalty for these people."

These comments received applause from the locals.

Local residents enjoyed the benefits of illegal immigrants who, without work permits, contributed to the city’s growth. At the same time, they stood atop the economic marvel built on countless sacrifices, lashing out at the very people who’d made it possible.

It was like the way the middle class looks down on the lower class—calling them lazy worms rotting in the mud.

Several undocumented immigrants in the bakery quickly left, clearly uncomfortable with the atmosphere.

The boss joined in the criticism, cursing while keeping his eyes on Lance, as if his words were directed specifically at him.

In the afternoon, rumors started circulating that a total of eleven officers had died—nine from the coastal patrol and two from the local police.

The people on the smuggling boat weren’t ordinary immigrants; they were from the Empire, heavily armed, likely a part of a small paramilitary group.

There was no doubt that, once in the Federation, such dangerous people wouldn’t do any good. Their only real options were to form gangs or become ruthless bandits.

Thankfully, the city’s guardians eliminated the smugglers, securing the city’s peace and protecting the lives and property of its citizens.

But Lance felt this matter wasn’t over yet.

Later that afternoon, he went to find Elvin, completely unfazed by the boss deducting yet another dollar from his pay.

"Be careful over the next while," he warned them. "It’d be best if you all stuck together when you go out."

Thanks to Ethan and Elvin, as well as stories from other young men from the Empire, their little group—and the things Lance had done to help Ethan—had begun to spread.

Some who had come from the Empire, though not on the same boat, also wanted to join their circle.

With Lance’s approval, they had been welcomed in.

By now, there were about twenty of them, and Lance had memorized each of their faces.

Elvin, the heart of the group, stood by Lance’s side. "What’s any of this got to do with us?"

For a moment, Lance struggled to explain. "The presidential election is coming up, and the president is counting on illegal immigrants’ support to get votes. But native Federation citizens aren’t too fond of us."

"Now, with more than a dozen officers dead in what’s likely the most severe case in recent years, there are bound to be people using this incident to stir up public opinion."

"Once a wave of xenophobia rises, we’ll be in real danger."

"You all know that if anyone attacks us, our only choice is to take the hit. Even if it’s self-defense, the police will come after us."

"The docks are complicated. Stick together to stay safe."

Many people didn’t understand the power of “movements.” They could make a closed society embrace new things or twist a righteous cause into something harmful.

There had been many instances in history of manipulating events through movements, and though the outcomes varied, the processes were always bloody.

The players seated at the game board looked grand, and few realized the carnage on the board itself.

Elvin looked puzzled. "Aren’t you overthinking this?"

"I don’t think so. Anything that concerns our lives is worth watching closely."

After giving his warning, Lance left, but not before seeing several people gathering around the bullet-riddled boat that had run aground.

A few young men were there, raising their fists and shouting.

By the next day, even The Federation Times had covered the story, and its impact was undeniable.

As the Federation’s economic powerhouse, anything that happened in Jingang City quickly made national news.

This horrific case had already drawn the attention of the President and Congress. Though the big shots hadn’t yet started maneuvering around the issue, the tension was building.

Even more surprising, the Emperor of the Empire had made a statement, condemning the killing of Empire citizens as an act of aggression and demanding that the Federation hand over the perpetrators and pay for all damages.

If not, he threatened to declare war on the Federation.

When this news broke, most people treated it as a joke.

The Emperor had already been driven out of the capital by the rebels. If not for a handful of loyal troops and a few supportive nobles, he would’ve had to form a government-in-exile.

Yet, in such a situation, he still dared to threaten war with the Federation—how was that possible?

Almost all Federation citizens thought the Emperor was unhinged, and they were developing an intense dislike for him.

Lance found this absurd, but quickly understood that it was the Emperor’s way of deflecting attention.

If he genuinely declared war on the Federation, the Empire’s civil war might pause under the external threat.

The rebel forces, who currently had public support, could be branded “Federation lapdogs” if they didn’t stop, turning them into pariahs in the eyes of patriotic citizens.

Overnight, they would transform from heroes into traitors, losing public support and moral authority, allowing the royal family to regain control.

If they paused the civil war, the royal family, as the Empire’s legitimate rulers, could consolidate power through the war.

To the Federation’s citizens, this was a joke, but to the royal family, the Emperor himself, and high-level politicians worldwide, it was a calculated move!

Lance had never felt any urgent need to obtain legal residency, but now that feeling began to change.

Initially, he hadn’t worried. He thought he’d find a suitable moment and leave if he wanted to.

But now, it wasn’t just about having the right opportunity—he needed to secure his status as soon as possible.

What began as a minor incident was now being propelled in unimaginable and unpredictable ways, growing beyond the comprehension of ordinary people.

By the third day, demonstrators were already marching near the port, holding banners with slogans like "Go Back to the Empire." Outside the coastal patrol’s office were nine empty coffins, each draped with a black-and-white photo of a fallen patrol officer.

Flowers and small tokens piled around them, and without any instigation, waves of emotions were beginning to surge.

It was a very dangerous sign!

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