Chapter Sixty-Four: Nine Provinces, Grant Us a Bite of Food

The secretary was momentarily taken aback, then nodded. “Yes! Understood! Please wait a moment!”
This message spread across the globe in an instant.
Harris, who was inside the Underworld King’s headquarters, received the news as well.
“Your Majesty, perhaps I should return and see if there are any other Star Reports I can steal,” Harris said, a sly grin curling at the corner of his lips.
After leaving Jiuzhou that day, Harris had intended to return to America, but on the way he encountered the Underworld King’s machines. In order to save his life, he defected immediately. To his surprise, the Underworld King granted him a brand-new body, crafted from machinery and covered with his original skin.
What’s more, Harris had even met Louis.
“Very well, go ahead,” the Underworld King’s virtual avatar replied, not even glancing up, busy as he was with modifying his own machines.
Clearly, this latest bout of machine warfare had not lived up to his expectations. Though it had been much improved over the last time, some gratitude was owed to the traitor before him.
Yet the Underworld King would never trust Harris lightly. If Harris failed to return within the allotted time, the mechanical body the King had given him would explode.
“At once! I’ll be back soon! Your Majesty, await my good news!” Harris laughed boisterously as he strode out.
At this moment, his feelings could no longer be described as merely joyous.
He had conceived a perfect plan: assassinate Mucus, throw America into chaos, then seize the position of America’s foremost leader and bring the nation to submit directly to the Underworld King.
If every American underwent machine transformation, America would become a land of immortals!
Mucus sat in the grand hall, polishing a small laser cannon he had chosen. As a precaution, he wore a protective suit from Jiuzhou. Killing a traitor was no easy business.
“First Leader, Harris has arrived,” the secretary announced as she entered.
Mucus sneered. “Show our ‘hero’ in!”
“At once!”
At the palace gates, Harris waited beneath the blazing sun. The long wait had worn his patience thin; he was teetering on the edge of agitation.
“Still not out? Tormenting me? Just wait, I’ll tear you to pieces soon enough,” Harris cursed Mucus inwardly, burning with the desire to shred him limb from limb.
Just then, the secretary descended.
“Go in—the First Leader is waiting for you,” she said with a flawless professional smile.
Harris ignored her, brushing past and striding into the hall.

The secretary’s gaze followed Harris’s back as if she were watching a dead man walk.
No sooner had Harris entered than the great doors slammed shut behind him.
He seemed to be utterly alone in the cavernous hall.
A chill crept over Harris, but then he reminded himself of his mechanical body and mustered his courage to walk further in. There, he saw Mucus seated alone at the top of the hall.
“First Leader, my respects!” Harris saluted with a bow.
“No need for formalities,” Mucus’s cold voice echoed from above.
As Harris straightened, his hand transformed instantly into a gun, firing a bullet straight at Mucus’s heart.
“Die!” Harris spat coldly.
To his shock, Mucus stood unscathed, a laser cannon materializing by his side.
“Harris, there is nothing I detest more than traitors. Did you know that?” The words, icy and edged with anger, slipped from Mucus’s lips.
Harris froze, a dreadful premonition rising within him.
He’d fallen into a trap!
His first instinct was to fall to his knees and beg for mercy.
“First Leader, you must believe me! This wasn’t my fault! The Underworld King forced me! He transformed my body against my will! It was all him, he—”
Before he could finish speaking, he saw a gaping hole appear in his chest. Lacking any sense of pain, Harris thought he could not die.
But the explosion that followed ripped his body to shreds, leaving nothing but a severed head.
Mucus approached, watching Harris’s mouth gape soundlessly like a dying fish, his eyes blinking now and then.
“Monster,” Mucus sneered, crushing the head underfoot.
At the same moment, the Underworld King learned of Harris’s death and cursed dismissively, “Useless fool!”
Mucus gathered the fragments of Harris’s remains, placed them in a cage, and hung it high above for all to see—so that everyone would know the fate of traitors.
In Northsha, Ostrong, and Jiuzhou, word of the traitor’s death spread quickly, greatly pleasing the people.
This incident also drew America closer to the alliance among the four nations.
As the war dragged on, humanity’s confrontation with the Underworld King reached a stalemate.

Now, the greatest challenge was not the Underworld King—it was food.
Jiuzhou, with its foresight, had stockpiled enough grain to feed its people for eight or even ten years, and could continue to cultivate more in the meantime.
But other nations were not so fortunate. They were gradually sliding into famine, subsisting on daily rations of compressed food—just a small piece each, which was far from enough for those fighting at the front.
At this moment, all eyes turned to Jiuzhou.
In Jiuzhou, every meal still included meat, or at the very least, steaming noodles and buns, with homegrown vegetables on the side.
Compared to other nations, it was nothing short of luxury.
Scientists from around the world flocked to Jiuzhou, hoping that their contributions would earn them a decent meal.
Mucus gnawed on a lump of mashed potatoes, his eyes bloodshot with frustration.
“I can’t take it anymore! I’m going to Jiuzhou!” he declared, throwing the mashed potatoes to the floor and making as if to run straight there.
No one stopped him. Stunned, Mucus resolved to go to Jiuzhou in person to request their aid.
“Chief Number One, as fellow members of the anti-invasion alliance, could you help us?” Mucus asked politely.
Churchill and Olis, standing nearby, quickly chimed in.
“Chief Number One, our people are on the brink of starvation!”
“Chief Number One, please help us!”
Chief Number One did not answer. Everyone knew that grain was the backbone of war. If Jiuzhou shared its supplies, how would its own soldiers fare?
Just then, Chu Xiao pushed open the door and entered, witnessing the scene.
“Chief Number One! Give each of them a month’s supply. We still have enough to spare!”
“Now is the time to unite and resist the enemy together. That is what matters most!” Chu Xiao’s words rang with sincerity.
Chief Number One had been hesitant, but meeting Chu Xiao’s bright gaze, he made up his mind. “Very well. We’ll do as you suggest.”
“At the same time, you must start cultivating crops in the safest areas. Otherwise, your future supplies will never keep up,” Chu Xiao advised Mucus and the others.