Darkstone Code

Someone vividly used a single sentence to distinguish the difference between civilization and barbarism—

Barbarians eat meat with their hands, wiping them on animal skins afterward.

However, civilized people use forks and knives to eat meat and dab their mouths with napkins afterward.

Is there an essential difference between them?

Actually, there isn’t. Eating meat is just eating meat; it won’t change the fact that you are eating meat, no matter how refined or elegant you look while doing it.

You’re still eating meat, and nobody can change that fact.

But this is a necessary process for the progress of social civilization. The law gives people a sense of shame while "eating meat," making them appear civilized and harmless.

What’s worth noting here is that the appearance they present is not for fellow capitalists at the same level but for those in the lower and middle classes of society.

"Although we eat meat, we are not barbaric."

Interestingly, society’s middle and lower classes, influenced by capitalism, have adapted to this utterly foolish set of rules and are able to ignore the essence of the matter, following the script written by the capitalists.

Yet this is the Federation, full of the "scent of conspiracy" from capitalists everywhere, full of lies!

"Anna told me she learned a lot from you." Mr. Pato shook hands with Lynch, and the two moved to the side to chat.

Everyone here wore the badge of the Saint Harmony Association on their chest, Lynch too, but his was a first-class member badge.

The internal upgrading of the Saint Harmony Association is rule-based; it isn’t just about how long you’ve been in the organization or how wealthy you are that makes you eligible for an upgrade.

No, the system of the Saint Harmony Association is not that simple and foolish. Here, to get a promotion, a certain number of members must nominate you to gain the attention of the Management Committee, followed by an evaluation to ascertain if you deserve the opportunity.

What are the benefits of becoming a senior member of the Saint Harmony Association?

The benefits are numerous...

Lynch’s gaze moved away from Mr. Pato’s third-tier badge and then he smiled naturally but insincerely, "We learn and progress together."

Mr. Pato was stunned for a moment. Such hypocritical words from Lynch’s mouth didn’t disgust people; instead, they carried a self-deprecating humor.

He laughed and patted Lynch’s arm, avoiding the shoulder as it is impolite and easily offensive.

"You’re very humorous, Lynch!" He paused and said, "After the last matter concluded, I prepared a gift for you but never found the right opportunity to discuss it. If you have time, you can visit my estate."

Lynch suspected that this gift had not yet come into existence and only existed in Mr. Pato’s words, but it should be ready by tomorrow, so he gave Mr. Pato time to prepare the gift.

"I’m free next Tuesday."

"Then we’ll talk more when we meet next Tuesday."

They shook hands again and then parted ways.

As Lynch turned around, he unexpectedly saw a fat man.

He was dressed very appropriately in formal attire.

Many times, people think it’s laughable when fat people appear in high-society events because their clothes make them look like clowns.

Most people’s stereotypes of wealthy fat people remain on the verge of an almost bursting button and an ever-protruding belly.

But in reality, it’s not the case.

Some tailors might charge 20, 30, 50 for their craftsmanship, while others might charge hundreds, thousands, or even tens of thousands.

Tailors aren’t all the same. You can’t treat the "classic capitalist image" used to numb the nerves of the lower social classes as a true phenomenon; such things don’t occur in high society.

The fat man in front of Lynch was dressed very appropriately, with no bursting buttons. Even if he was really fat, looking at him, you wouldn’t feel that his size bore any burden to his image!

Excellent tailors know how to make an appropriate, proper, and fitting outfit for big figures, which is also their means of livelihood.

Those lacking intelligence don’t even have the chance to serve big figures.

The fat man continued eating.

While others were naturally socializing, chatting, or networking, the fat man was holding a plate, indulging in the cold buffet.

He seemed like an outlier, but few truly outlandish people can enter here. Perhaps this is his way of handling work and life.

Or maybe his identity and status allow him to expose his true self without fear of being looked down upon.

At this moment, Mr. Wardrick came over. He had just finished talking with others and saw that Lynch had also finished his conversation and was walking towards him.

With a clear purpose, Mr. Wardrick walked in Lynch’s direction, causing others who wanted to talk to either of them to momentarily pause.

Even within the Saint Harmony Association, class exists as well.

"Who’s that guy?" The two were quite familiar with each other, nearly becoming family, so sometimes some boring and hypocritical greetings could be dispensed with.

Lynch nodded his chin towards the fat man, and Mr. Wardrick glanced over with the corner of his eye before turning back, "Perseus."

"Sounds like a name from ancient mythology stories," Lynch took a sip from his glass, sarcastically commenting about the name.

Mr. Wardrick nodded and said, "Yes, it’s the name of the War God in mythology."

"Really?" Lynch seemed a bit surprised. There are very few people... no, practically no one would name their child after a god.

This would make many people uncomfortable. In this not yet completely technology-exploded era, theology still has very deep roots. Even now, nearly seventy-five percent of people in the Federation believe that gods truly exist; they just don’t come out often.

People’s exploration of nature is still at a preliminary stage. People believe there are glorious palaces above the sky, that in the bottomless underwater trenches lies the Temple of the Sea God, that on the Moon resides the Divine King’s abode...

Thus, in an era where people still hold reverence for the divine, naming one’s child after a god requires more than just courage.

The fanatics would go crazy because this is blasphemy!

Mr. Wardrick wore a sort of... mocking expression, "He’s good friends with your friend, Truman."

"What about this guy?"

"His ancestors were among the first soldiers to arrive on this continent, and one of the highest-ranking officers. If the military is considered an industry, then his family controls quite a bit of industry in this field, do you understand what I mean?"

Incidentally, Mr. Wardrick gave a hint, "The temporarily restricted in freedom Vice Admiral, you know, is one of his grandfathers."

"He’s got several such grandfathers..."

Lynch always believed that as long as you work hard, you can change your fate, defy destiny, regardless of your birth.

But at this moment, he was a bit dazed. Some say that descendants of big families are born at the finish line for many others.

Then this guy, from birth, was already in the heavens!

"No wonder he’s so... robust," Lynch found a word to give a small compliment, as if the sarcasm in his words just now never happened.

Mr. Wardrick quite liked Lynch’s expression at this moment, because very few things could make Lynch feel a sense of defeat, but Perseus made him clearly feel powerless.

But quickly, that helpless expression disappeared, replaced by a very special smile, confident, sunny, clean.

"Actually, speaking of it, I am also sort of a partner and friend of his?"

It was Mr. Wardrick’s turn to feel helpless. He seemed to understand what Lynch was thinking, then nodded, "That’s your right."

"Then, excuse me for a moment..."

Lynch excused himself and proactively walked over to Perseus, with a plate seemingly ready to get something.

"Can you tell me what’s good to eat?" Lynch suddenly asked.

Perseus was taken aback, looked around, and then to his right, and asked with a not so confident look, "You mean... me?"

Lynch nodded as a matter of course, "Of course, unless I should ask those who pretend they’re not hungry even when they are?"

He looked somewhat disdainfully at them, "Whether they’re hungry or not I don’t know, but I’m hungry and want to eat something."

Perseus hesitated for a moment, and pointed at a dish that looked very pretty but was a bit less than half finished, "This is good, quite tasty."

This dish... looked like semi-spherical shapes about an inch in diameter placed on a plate, with beautiful colors and accompanied by a lovely sauce, it indeed looked delicious.

Lynch picked one up, drizzled it with sauce, and tasted it, "Indeed it’s great, I can only tell it’s some kind of meat, but I’m not sure what kind, the texture is great as well."

It’s springy yet not difficult to chew, when you bite through the surface, the juices and oils with special aromas are released, bringing a higher level of gourmet experience!

Honestly speaking, it’s not something unpleasant, on the contrary, it’s very delicious.

"What is this?" Lynch took another one.

Perseus seemed very happy that Lynch liked the food he recommended, which also made him have quite a good impression of Lynch, "This is venison, the meat about finger-width connecting the neck and breastbone of a young deer."

"These meatballs come from there!"

Lynch glanced at the plate again, he could imagine that to make a plate of meatballs like this, at least dozens of young deer were slaughtered.

But who cares?

Isn’t this precisely what demonstrates the value and meaning of wealth?

He finished the second meatball, then picked up a napkin to wipe his hands, and extended it out, "I’m Lynch..."