"Right, what kind of position should my office take regarding the Reapers?" Hu Guanyu asked as he turned towards the other elders. As the Minister of Foreign Affairs, he would eventually have to deal with the various powers in Europe, and the Reapers were a particularly difficult subject to approach. They were an organization that inspired an almost unreasonable amount of fear, even among people who were accustomed to dealing with dangerous individuals and powerful institutions. Within Europe, they were widely regarded as the sharp knives in the hands of the Trade Families, making them a force that no sensible government would antagonize without a very good reason.
"We will do nothing against them," Wan Gengxin answered without hesitation. "We gain nothing by provoking them, and we have already experienced what it is like to become their target." His voice remained calm, but the meaning behind his words was unmistakable, as none of the elders needed a reminder of how dangerous the Reapers could be. Worst of all, the circumstances surrounding their recent actions suggested that they now enjoyed Gaia's considerable favour. If Gaia decided that she needed their services, she would undoubtedly make use of them, and few governments would willingly place themselves in the path of such a decision.
Wan Gengxin would have loved to possess an organization with comparable abilities under his own control. The ability to eliminate dangerous enemies, expose hidden crimes, and strike at targets who believed themselves untouchable would have been an extraordinary advantage for any nation. However, he was experienced enough to understand that such an organization could be a double-edged sword, especially if its members did not recognize the authority of the people giving them orders. The Reapers were not ordinary soldiers who could simply be incorporated into an existing chain of command, and trying to control them without understanding their motivations could easily turn a valuable asset into a terrifying enemy.
For the moment, only Gaia and certain established powers in Europe seemed capable of interacting with the Reapers on meaningful terms. The relationship required a level of trust that could not be established through a few diplomatic meetings or an exchange of benefits. It demanded years of familiarity, a shared understanding of unspoken rules, and confidence that neither side would casually betray the other when circumstances became inconvenient. China had not existed in its current position long enough to build that kind of relationship with the organization, and the differences between their cultures would make the process even more complicated.
Nevertheless, Wan Gengxin did not consider the situation hopeless. A nation with a long history could afford to think beyond the immediate crisis, especially when it came to relationships that might take decades to establish. China could observe the Reapers, study their actions, and gradually learn more about the principles governing their behaviour without needlessly drawing their attention. Life is long now, he thought as he settled back into his seat, allowing himself a moment to consider the possibilities. There was no reason to rush into a relationship that could only be built properly through time and patience.
"Good. Then, should we do something in the United States while the situation is falling apart?" Hu Guanyu asked, a spark of interest appearing in his eyes. He would not have minded taking advantage of America's current difficulties, especially after the many occasions on which the United States had interfered with China's rise. From his perspective, the present crisis offered an opportunity to repay some of those past grievances while weakening a rival that had enjoyed considerable influence for decades. However, before he could elaborate on his proposal, he noticed that several of the other elders were looking at him with expressions that suggested they were not entirely convinced.
"What did I say? Is something wrong?" Hu Guanyu asked, looking around the room with genuine puzzlement. He had expected at least some of the elders to share his enthusiasm, particularly given their long-standing disagreements with the Americans. Instead, they appeared to be weighing his suggestion against considerations that he had not yet taken into account. Their expressions were not entirely hostile to the idea, but neither did they suggest that anyone was eager to approve it without further discussion.
"No, I am inclined to agree with you in principle, but I do not see the benefits of acting against them right now," Xian Mu replied. He understood perfectly well why Hu Guanyu wanted to take advantage of the American crisis, and a part of him shared that sentiment. Nevertheless, the distance between China and the United States was simply too great for them to intervene directly and achieve anything substantial without committing considerable resources. Even if they managed to exploit the political turmoil, he questioned what China would actually gain from doing so.
"Besides, the next Trial begins in fifteen years, and I have no interest in seeing a divided United States when that time comes," Xian Mu continued. The coming Trial was too important for them to allow short-term political satisfaction to undermine their preparations for the future. China needed powerful allies, or at least other nations capable of contributing meaningfully to the challenges that awaited them. The United States possessed considerable military strength, and weakening it unnecessarily could leave both countries less prepared for the threats they would eventually have to face.
He also reminded the others that the American military remained largely intact, despite the political disaster unfolding around it. The revelations had exposed corruption among influential politicians, but that did not mean the entire military establishment had been compromised. As far as the intelligence reaching his desk indicated, no high-ranking military figure had been identified as a member of the corrupted-human organization. That distinction mattered, because the people responsible for the country's political failures were not necessarily the same people who would be expected to defend it when the next Trial arrived.
"You are correct," Wan Gengxin said after considering Xian Mu's argument. "The Americans have always been a warlike people, and even if taking revenge would be satisfying, we would be better off concentrating on our own problems." He turned his attention towards the Minister of Foreign Affairs, making it clear that China's priorities should remain focused on matters that could produce tangible benefits. Rather than waste resources interfering in a crisis on the other side of the world, they should concentrate on reopening the Silk Road. Restoring that route would strengthen their economy, improve trade, and provide benefits that would continue long after the American political situation had stabilized.
Hu Guanyu accepted the explanation with a thoughtful nod. "You are right. Thank you for clearing up my doubts," he said, before allowing a faint smile to appear on his face. "Besides, they already have an excellent candidate to take over the leading role in their country. The director of the CIA has even managed to outmaneuver you on several occasions, hasn't she, Yan Wen?" He directed the question towards the Minister of Intelligence, clearly interested in hearing his assessment of the woman who might soon become one of China's most important international counterparts.
"Yes, she is an excellent leader," Yan Wen replied, his expression becoming more serious. He had no intention of underestimating the CIA director, particularly after observing how she had handled the unfolding crisis. "However, if she becomes the next president of the United States, we will need to raise our assessment of their threat level by at least five notches." His words drew the attention of the other elders, as they understood that he was not making the recommendation lightly. Yan Wen had spent years studying foreign leaders and their weaknesses, and he had yet to identify the sort of obvious vulnerabilities that had made dealing with some of her colleagues comparatively straightforward.
The CIA director was not simply competent; she was also decisive, capable of acting under pressure, and unwilling to hesitate when a difficult choice had to be made. Those qualities would make her a formidable political opponent, especially if she gained control of the presidency and the authority that accompanied it. A leader who could identify a problem, assess the available options, and act without allowing personal interests to interfere would be considerably harder to manipulate than someone whose decisions depended on favours and political connections. Yan Wen therefore believed that China would have to reconsider its assumptions about the United States if she took office.
"And the military will put its full weight behind her," Yan Wen added, looking directly towards Wan Gengxin. He wanted to ensure that the president understood the significance of another developing change within the American power structure. The marshal leading the military had made his position on civilian interference increasingly clear, and he was determined to loosen the military's dependence on the influence of wealthy capitalists. He had no objection to private businesses operating within the civilian economy, but he despised their attempts to interfere with the armed forces and dictate military decisions for their own benefit.
That development could have far-reaching consequences for the future of the United States. If the military supported a decisive leader who was equally unwilling to tolerate interference from powerful private interests, the old balance between politicians, wealthy business figures, and the armed forces might change considerably. China would have to prepare for an American government that was more unified and more difficult to influence than the one it had dealt with in the past. For Wan Gengxin, this was another reason to avoid wasting resources on unnecessary provocations while the Americans were still dealing with the consequences of their internal crisis.
"Good. Regardless of what we think about the situation, we still need to offer our condolences," Wan Gengxin said, bringing the discussion back to the immediate diplomatic necessities. He turned towards one of the aides standing nearby and asked whether the cameras were ready. The aide nodded in confirmation, informing the president without interrupting the atmosphere of the room. Satisfied, Wan Gengxin rose from his seat and straightened his clothes, preparing to address the Chinese people and deliver the government's official response to the tragedy unfolding in the United States.
"Excellent. Then let me speak to the nation and explain what our government has achieved," he said with a confident smile as he walked out of the plain meeting room. He intended to present the government's work in a way that demonstrated both its seriousness and its commitment to protecting the country from similar threats. Although the revelations from America had raised disturbing questions about corruption and infiltration, they also offered an opportunity for China to show that its leadership was taking the danger seriously. A carefully prepared address would allow him to reassure the public while reinforcing the government's determination to investigate the organization and prevent it from gaining further influence.
By the time the Chinese president prepared to deliver his address and offer condolences to the American people, the rest of the world had begun to emerge from its initial shock. The revelations about the corruption within the United States had shaken public confidence far beyond American borders, forcing governments everywhere to confront the possibility that similar organizations might already be operating within their own institutions. Ordinary citizens began asking uncomfortable questions about the people who governed them and the safeguards meant to prevent powerful individuals from abusing their authority. If something so terrible could happen in the United States, a country with extensive intelligence agencies and powerful law-enforcement institutions, then what guarantees did anyone else possess?
Public pressure quickly turned towards governments that had previously been content to treat corruption as a problem that could be managed through ordinary investigations and existing legislation. Citizens demanded new laws, stronger institutions, and more effective methods of detecting corrupted humans before they could establish themselves within the political system. Politicians who had once resisted reforms suddenly discovered that passing stricter legislation was considerably more appealing when the alternative involved being accused of protecting the very people responsible for the atrocities. In several countries, lawmakers who had spent years obstructing such measures were now eager to support them, partly because they feared the public backlash and partly because they had no desire to be associated with the organization.
The reasons behind this sudden enthusiasm were not entirely noble, but they were easy to understand. Corrupted humans had access to resources that ordinary criminals could only dream of, and their activities generated considerable quantities of System currency. When the American senator was killed on the floor of Congress, his death produced thirty silver coins, a sum large enough to attract the attention of financial officials everywhere. For ministers already struggling with the debts owed to the System, the discovery was especially tempting, since even a small reduction in their financial obligations could ease the pressure on their national budgets.
The financial ministers of various countries could hardly ignore the implications. Governments had accumulated substantial debts to the System, and although those debts had previously been considered manageable, the rapid changes in the world had made every additional expense more difficult to absorb. Thirty silver coins from a single corrupted human might not solve a country's financial problems, but the prospect of acquiring more resources through the elimination of dangerous individuals was difficult for desperate officials to dismiss. Consequently, measures that would once have faced fierce political resistance began moving through legislative bodies at remarkable speed.
Those who opposed the new laws found themselves in an increasingly uncomfortable position. Some had genuine concerns about how the legislation would be enforced, while others worried about the power it would grant to institutions responsible for identifying corrupted humans. However, the public had little patience for arguments that sounded like excuses for protecting potential collaborators, especially after seeing the evidence of what had happened in the United States. Politicians who continued to obstruct the measures risked being accused of siding with the corrupted humans, and many of their colleagues were more than willing to use that accusation against them.
As a result, governments across the world began pushing the legislation through their political systems with an urgency that had been almost unimaginable only days earlier. Their motives differed, ranging from a sincere desire to protect their populations to a calculated interest in reducing their debts to the System. Yet regardless of those differences, one thing had become clear: very few leaders were willing to risk appearing sympathetic to the corrupted humans. If passing the new laws allowed them to demonstrate their determination, satisfy an increasingly angry public, and potentially improve their national finances, then they were more than willing to support the measures. In a world where corruption had suddenly become a threat to both public safety and political survival, opposition was becoming an increasingly expensive position to maintain.