Chapter 125: The Survivor Zone of Cangzhou (6) – The Anti-Corruption Law

The Martial Arts Association began to find life more orderly. City sanitation was being managed, public utilities like tap water were restored, and even bottled gas became available for sale. These canisters were a byproduct of the Bohai Steel Group’s coking plant, now being distributed by a newly established company, much to the delight of the survivor population.

The Special Committee fully deferred to the Martial Arts Association regarding operational decisions, intending to evolve the Association into something akin to a local people's congress. When these procedures were presented to the martial artists, they realized they were essentially being handed a legal framework. They offered no strong resistance; the memory of the many corrupt officials already executed was still fresh. Thus, they accepted the Special Committee’s arrangements with a mix of reluctance and compliance.

Based on the progress of the anti-corruption campaign, the Special Committee adjusted its legal framework. Li Fengyi insisted that this process could not be conducted through mere policy shifts. He feared that relying on policy documents would allow for arbitrary actions; unless one was a true master of statecraft, such power in the hands of ordinary politicians rarely led to good outcomes. It was much like industrial operating procedures: a genius engineer might thrive without constraints, but for the vast majority of ordinary technicians, failing to follow protocol leads to constant industrial accidents. Geniuses are too rare to build a sustainable system upon; any company relying on them would eventually collapse.

Ever since Li Fengyi, Sun Xiaoshan, and Li Qiang reached a consensus on mutual protection, the operations of the People's Congress had been quite robust. Whenever existing laws were silent or required amendment, the Congress provided proposals for Li Fengyi and his colleagues to review and authorize. Even if Li and his team vetoed a proposal, they could only do so three times before it became mandatory.

However, in these apocalyptic times, Li Fengyi had been granted dictatorial powers. Fearing the implications of secret directives, he decided to use these powers sparingly. For instance, the current anti-corruption drive was largely driven by proposals from grassroots representatives. Li dared not offend the many former government officials; they were seasoned in political maneuvering, having spent years before the apocalypse manipulating a population of over a billion—to them, outmaneuvering him was as easy as drinking water. He simply pushed the contentious issues to the Congress for deliberation, leaving himself only to sign off on the results for administrative execution.

While the Congress amended the anti-corruption laws, Li Fengyi merely requested that they consider the reality that many officials were currently holding private armies or that abandoning their posts would lead to greater chaos and loss of life among the survivors. He finally understood why the nation and its people had been held hostage by corrupt officials before the end.

Li Fengyi felt a lingering conflict: on one hand, he wanted these former officials dead so that any lingering, lethal pre-apocalypse documents would become irrelevant—a new era should have new masters. On the other hand, he feared that if they died too quickly, it might trigger a backlash. Thus, he refused to intervene in the legislation and trials, letting them fight it out among themselves. He reminded himself to sign and release any documents requiring approval immediately.

The new anti-corruption laws elevated the crimes to the level of treason and robbery, yet they included provisions for leniency. Those who sought to atone for their sins post-apocalypse—specifically by returning to the Special Committee’s fold and securing the safety of survivors—could be pardoned. The Congress even published a conversion rate for atonement: one human life saved was valued at one million in pre-apocalypse currency. In principle, material compensation was rejected; it was obvious that allowing it would only encourage these officials to recklessly sacrifice survivors to hoard resources. Of course, major contributions, such as developing a vaccine for the zombie virus, could absolve any crime.

The Congress even calculated the value of survivors based on their health: a healthy individual counted as one, while someone half-dead counted as 0.5. Li Fengyi was left sweating at the absurdity—how could one even calculate the "half-dead"?

Many corrupt officials were now frantically saving survivors, as there was no hope of fleeing abroad; those who did manage to escape were often exploited by locals. In many foreign regions, cannibalism had emerged, largely because those nations’ "elite" had championed the idea of globalized food supplies, leaving their own countries with no stockpiles.

These officials worked hard to rescue survivors and rejoin the Special Committee. Unfortunately, those who did this were mostly the "minor" offenders, those who could actually hope to clear their names. Many other officials calculated that they would need to save millions just to balance their ledgers—some realized that even saving the entire human race wouldn't be enough. May heaven help them; they were poor at math, and their total GDP contribution hadn't been that high to begin with, though they dared not ask anyone good at math to double-check.

If they were to save enough people, their influence would eventually surpass that of the Special Committee, leading some to resolve to resist instead. Ironically, these people were highly capable—how else could they have embezzled so much money? They strictly confiscated radios in their territories to prevent the Special Committee’s "reactionary" propaganda, sharpened their blades, and prepared to stand their ground. The cleverer ones began plotting to unite against the Special Committee.

The Special Committee’s Ministry of Commerce released a report on the commercial landscape of the Cangzhou region, providing basic data to encourage companies to mobilize and offer services in new areas. Long Zhanhai, the bodyguard of the company boss Sun Manfei—who led a group of survivors in the Huairou mountains—urged his employer to expand to Cangzhou. It was his hometown, and he was eager to see his family. After researching the region and gaining approval from the Ministry of Commerce, Sun Manfei sent Long Zhanhai ahead to scout the path.

Cangzhou was home to Huangye Port, a major international harbor, as well as the Huayuan Power Plant, and vital infrastructure for wire, cable, and auto parts manufacturing. Originally, it was assumed the oil fields there were offshore and not worth developing, but intelligence brought back by Ye Liusun indicated that there were land-based fields, high-standard military fuel, and comprehensive petrochemical facilities. The challenge was that the people of Cangzhou had reclaimed the area so thoroughly that everything was ready for immediate use. Sun Xiaoshan, the Minister of Industry, prepared to lead an inspection team to conduct a comprehensive plan to secure the Special Committee's development.

Long Zhanhai returned with several fellow disciples to Xiaoxinbao Village, near the Dagang Oilfield east of Cangzhou City. His master was still alive, though his master’s wife had perished during the apocalypse after falling ill. After they finished offering incense, they sat down to talk, sharing their experiences since the end of the world.