novelraw Chapter 454: The Capitalist's Most Severe Father
Chapter 454: The Capitalist's Most Severe Father
...
Lin'an City.
The Lin Family Villa.
Lin Yaodong, the head of the Lin Family, relying on some distant marital ties to a military general who had already been dispatched to the front lines, as well as a group of powerful Guest Advisors he had cultivated, attempted to stubbornly resist to the end.
When the Internal Affairs Department Military Police arrived at his lakeside villa, which resembled a palace,
they were met not with cooperation, but with tightly shut gates.
"This is private property! You have no right to trespass! The taxes my Lin Family pays every year are enough to support all you worthless soldiers!"
Lin Yaodong's arrogant voice boomed out through an Amplification Magic Circle.
The Military Police Commander, a cold-faced, formidable expert of the Abyss Realm,
couldn't even be bothered with words. He coldly spat out two syllables: "Break it."Several Military Police officers behind him, skilled in formations, acted simultaneously. Spiritual light blasted against the gates.
The gates shattered with a thunderous crash.
"How dare you!"
Lin Yaodong was both shocked and furious. The several Guest Advisor bodyguards beside him immediately manifested their Life Souls, Spiritual Energy surging forth.
"Those who defy orders shall be executed without mercy."
The Commander's order was icy.
Combat erupted in an instant and ended within a minute.
The Military Police squad cooperated seamlessly, their strikes ruthless and fierce.
Although the Lin Family's Guest Advisor bodyguards possessed decent individual strength, against the organized, military-style tactics, they were like clay chickens and pottery dogs, annihilated in the blink of an eye.
Blood stained the white marble courtyard.
Lin Yaodong was dragged out from the hidden chamber where he had taken refuge by a Military Police officer, like dragging a dead dog.
His clothes were disheveled, his face filled with terror, not a trace of his previous arrogance remained.
"I'll donate! I'll donate everything! Please, spare me..."
He begged, tears and snot streaming down his face.
The Commander didn't even glance at him, directly ordering his deputy: "Lin Yaodong and his seven core family members, for defying orders and violently resisting, are to be dealt with according to the law, charged with treason, detained on the spot, and all their assets seized and confiscated for public use!"
Piercing cries and curses were quickly cut off.
The Lin Family's vast business empire changed hands in an instant under the iron-fisted enforcement.
This news quickly spread, completely shattering the illusions of certain wealthy individuals who still harbored thoughts of bargaining or slipping through the cracks.
This storm swept through not just the top-tier tycoons.
Throughout Daxia's cities, any wealthy merchant, factory owner... whose assets reached a certain scale received similar requisition orders.
Those who resisted were mercilessly crushed like the Lin Family.
Those who cooperated, like the Shen Family, suffered devastating losses but preserved their families and a sliver of hope.
Countless hidden fortunes were unearthed.
Gold bars in cellars, assets in secret accounts, privately collected rare materials, undisclosed overseas holdings...
Nothing could escape the intelligence network of the state apparatus operating at full capacity.
The wealthy, who enjoyed infinite glory in ordinary times, now truly felt how pale and powerless the wealth they took such pride in was, in the face of a catastrophic national crisis.
This unimaginably vast sum of funds and materials was gathered with the highest efficiency.
Then, like a torrential flood, it surged recklessly towards the front lines.
It transformed into an endless stream of ammunition, medicine, energy, and new equipment.
It became the very breath that sustained Shi Potian, Wang Mingyuan, and even every ordinary soldier in their continued fight.
This was an utterly ruthless harvest.
Using the accumulated wealth of generations of wealthy individuals from the rear to fill the bottomless pit at the front lines that devoured lives.
No one liked this method, but under the shadow of national extinction, this was the most direct, and most helpless, choice the Supreme Council could make.
The profit-seeking nature of capital was forcibly twisted before the iron law of survival.
Forcing it to offer its final "tribute" for the continued existence of the entire civilization.
...
Online.
The sentiment here was almost uniformly supportive.
"When the nation faces peril, every common man bears responsibility. In the past, they relied on the nation's strength to accumulate wealth; today, it is only right they dedicate themselves to the nation. I support the Council's decision! Everything for the front lines! Everything for victory!"
"Well said! Look at the blood shed by the soldiers at the front. What does their money matter? Ninety-five percent? I say they should take one hundred percent! What's the use of money when lives are on the brink?"
"My son fell at the Iron Wall Fortress... If that money could have been turned into shells and medicine a little sooner, perhaps he would have had one more chance to survive... I support it! Take it all! Let those masters who have been sucking blood from the corpses of heroes taste some pain too!"
"From an economic perspective, this is drinking poison to quench thirst. Post-war economic reconstruction will face enormous challenges. But from a survival perspective, this is the only choice. Resources must be tilted towards survival. Only by surviving do we have a future."
"Agreed. This is not the time to calculate economic accounts; it's time to calculate survival accounts! If we don't survive, everything resets to zero!"
Of course, many online were also making memes, finding this action immensely satisfying.
"With imposing might and murderous aura, all personal income is handed over."
"Out of a hundred, I take ninety-five, you know my methods well."
"Don't squander the remaining five, send me four-eight by tonight."
"Leave those last two cents untouched, save them for my use tomorrow."
"Can't even earn that final cent, you'll still owe me an IOU."
"Daxia: Who invented this capitalist thing? Hit it and it bursts with gold coins."
"The capitalist's most severe father."
...
Major city streets.
Military trucks loaded with personnel in various civilian clothes roared down the empty streets.
Among them were frail scholars from the Research Institute, and clerks from government departments. Now, they all tightly gripped the standard-issue weapons just distributed to them, their faces etched with confusion and fear.
They would be sent directly to the secondary defensive lines of the southern front, filling that massive gap in manpower.
Factory districts.
Production lines, once busy but orderly, now roared like frenzied beasts.
Supervisors in military uniforms held lists, shouting and urging them on.
Civilian product lines had long since shut down, all converted to producing batteries, first-aid kits, individual combat rations, and artillery shell casings.
Workers rotated in shifts, machines ran non-stop twenty-four hours a day, the air thick with the scorched smell of metal grinding.
Any engineer or worker attempting to slack off or raise objections would immediately face military discipline.
All civilian airspace had been completely sealed off. The railways were dominated by military special trains and heavy transport planes painted in camouflage.
Crates of strategic materials, purchased with the emergency liquidation of assets "requisitioned" from the wealthy or directly transferred from warehouses, were loaded roughly but efficiently.
Then, like rushing blood, they surged recklessly towards the borders on all sides, heedless of losses.
All non-essential civilian transport along the routes was postponed indefinitely. Everything made way for the war.
Rear cities.
Long queues formed at ration distribution points.
Everyone's expression was grave as they silently collected the rationed food and fuel, just enough to sustain basic survival.
Entertainment venues had completely vanished. All screens scrolled with the brutal scenes from the front lines, casualty lists, and the sternly worded mobilization orders issued by the Supreme Council.
...
The Daxia war machine was operating at an overload bordering on self-destruction.
It brutally crushed all internal rules and vested interest groups.
In the coldest manner, it squeezed out every last bit of potential from the entire nation, funneling it towards the teetering defensive lines.
All for one single goal.
To survive.