Blackstone Code-Chapter 292:

The nights in Nagalier were profoundly dark, with stars that shone exceptionally bright. Unlike the Baylor Federation, where neon lights painted the sky in artificial hues, here the natural brilliance of the cosmos remained undimmed. The vast expanse of stars stretched across the heavens like a celestial tapestry, drawing the gaze of those who looked up and filling them with awe.

Arthur gazed through the transparent glass window at the tranquil night outside, but his mind churned with turbulent thoughts. Civilized worlds and savage ones were fundamentally different—there was no denying it. He had prepared himself mentally before returning, yet he had underestimated the stark contrast.

His memories of Nagalier seemed to have faded, blurred by time. What remained were mostly pleasant recollections—moments of joy wrested from hardship. Happiness born out of suffering tended to linger longer in memory, so his recollections of home leaned toward the positive and cheerful, deliberately erasing unpleasant truths.

In the years spent in the Federation, Arthur had grown accustomed to living as a civilized person in a civilized world. Though the Federation had its flaws—overt and covert discrimination—it was still a nation governed by laws designed to protect the weak and restrain the powerful.

Even if people were rotten to the core, they at least maintained a veneer of decency. He had begun to adapt to this life, even though it might not be the ideal country he envisioned. But here, in Nagalier, nothing seemed to have progressed; the barbaric remained barbaric.

Police officers wielding sticks to beat and drive away pedestrians for the convenience of passing dignitaries—a far cry from their supposed duty to protect the public. Expanding one's yard by demolishing another's house and evicting them, then boasting about it as if it were an accomplishment—what kind of cold-hearted individuals could do such things? And all because Arthur had instinctively said "thank you," his father and eldest brother assumed his sister-in-law was seducing him. That night, they sent her to his room to satisfy their twisted desires...

It was horrifying, utterly barbaric. Once someone learned to sit at a table adorned with fine cloth, using elegant utensils to savor meticulously prepared meals, it became nearly impossible to return to a primal existence. The sight of raw, bloody meat or decaying corpses would repulse him, just as putting anything into his mouth now filled him with disgust.

At some point, Arthur fell asleep. No one woke him the next morning, and he slept until nearly eleven. In Nagalier, aside from a few working in factories, most people labored as day laborers or farmers. Life moved slowly here; unless hunger drove them, sleeping until noon or later wasn't uncommon.

When Arthur finally rose, the sour stench of sweat and body odor assaulted his senses once again. He changed clothes, feeling tainted by the smell himself. As he stepped out of his bedroom and descended the stairs, his expression froze when he reached the entrance hall. There, hanging from a tree in the courtyard, was his eldest brother's wife. Arthur's brothers stood nearby, watching as his eldest brother lashed her with a whip.

Each crack of the whip echoed sharply. The woman bore it silently, biting her lips until they bled. Her eyes glazed over, as though she might faint at any moment. Arthur's mother and the other sisters-in-law knelt beside them, witnessing this ritualistic punishment.

When the final lash landed, the eldest brother put away the whip, handing it casually to a younger sibling. With a cold glance at the hanging woman, he untied the ropes binding her hands. She collapsed to the ground, limp and broken. After a few seconds, she forced herself up, kneeling before her husband. Placing her palms flat on the ground, she kissed his toes and pressed her forehead against the earth—a standard act of penance reserved solely for women.

Seeing Arthur, the eldest brother's face transformed instantly, breaking into a genuine smile. It was a smile Arthur recognized, one he himself had worn in the past.

"My dear brother, did you sleep well?" He embraced Arthur warmly, but the hug brought no comfort. Arthur hesitated for a moment before responding, "Very well. I always thought of home while abroad. It feels good to be back..."

His brother nodded noncommittally. "Home is always best. This is your home, and we are here for you." Wrapping an arm around Arthur's shoulder, he guided him toward the house. "Let's eat lunch first. Afterward, I'll take you to see our factory. You might find it interesting."

This piqued Arthur's interest. He hadn't expected his father and uneducated brothers to own a factory. His profession made him sensitive to such matters, and he asked casually, "What kind of business does the factory handle?"

"Recycling and processing!" They entered the main hall, and the eldest brother spoke proudly. "We've cultivated connections. This line of work isn't easy—we've invested heavily in it."

As his brother explained further, Arthur began to understand. The money he had sent home hadn't been squandered or saved; instead, it had funded this venture. When certain traits or qualifications emerged, opportunists appeared to exploit them. Since Arthur's father had boasted about having a son abroad, his reputation grew locally, attracting attention from others.

No society operates strictly according to its rules without exceptions. In Nagalier, there were always outliers—speculators dissatisfied with the status quo, seeking change within the confines of tradition. These men approached Arthur's father, seeing potential in a particular business. They required no additional investment from him but offered half the profits in return, as they lacked the necessary reputation and needed Arthur's father to leverage his connections on their behalf.

Arthur's father agreed quickly, reasoning that even if they were scammers, he wouldn't lose much.

The business involved recycling.

Religious ceremonies produced vast quantities of "golden vessels"—not pure gold but items either plated or coated with powdered gold mixed with lacquer. Wealthy families opted for plating, while modest households chose lacquering. The number of layers reflected social standing: poorer families offered small, single-coated items, while wealthier ones provided larger, multi-layered pieces.

Stripping gold from plated objects was relatively simple, but extracting it from lacquered surfaces posed significant challenges. While these items were not entirely worthless, they also weren't especially valuable. To make matters more complicated, the recycling process was both intricate and labor-intensive. As a result, the major temples avoided dealing with these items directly. Instead, they packaged the "golden vessels" and outsourced them to specialized recycling factories, leaving the arduous task of extraction to those better equipped—or less scrupulous—to handle it.

Though they were called factories, in reality, they were nothing more than small to medium-sized workshops.

Previously, workers crushed and ground the lacquer, separating the gold powder through sedimentation and recasting it. Now it was much easier thanks to advancements in foreign technology. Certain chemicals, which were banned or restricted for civilian use in many countries due to their hazardous nature, had gradually made their way into Nagalier. With the help of one such chemical reagent, it became possible to effortlessly break down the components of the gold lacquer, causing the gold to settle at the bottom.

By the time Arthur heard about this, his expression had grown increasingly somber. He hastily finished his meal, and then accompanied his eldest brother on a drive to the factory.

From over a hundred meters away, a sharp, acrid stench reached their nostrils even before they arrived. As they pulled into the courtyard and stepped out of the car, Arthur's heart sank at the sight of workers handling toxic chemicals with no protective gear whatsoever. Their faces were blank, devoid of emotion, seemingly indifferent to their own rotting, disfigured hands. Watching them repeatedly dip those mangled hands into vats of corrosive liquids sent a wave of anguish coursing through Arthur.

Yet his brother appeared completely unfazed by the scene—or by the shift in Arthur's expression. With unbridled enthusiasm, he continued to show Arthur around, pointing out various parts of the operation. He then led him to his office, introduced him to the staff, and proudly unlocked the safe. Inside were stacks of neatly arranged gold bars—or more accurately, gold sheets. Each was only about half a centimeter thick and palm-sized, their surfaces gleaming with an eerie luster that seemed to quicken one's pulse.

"Look at this—this is our business!" His brother's voice dripped with pride, yet carried not a shred of reverence for the lives sacrificed or the suffering endured to produce such wealth.Please vote for this novel at https://www.novelupdates.com/series/blackstone-code/There are advance chapters available nowAccess will be granted 24 hours after the donationTier 1: 7 Advance chapters Link

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