Chapter 1237: Iron Curtain World

Chapter 1237: Chapter 398: Iron Curtain World

Ian sat in a restaurant.

The surrounding walls were painted a grayish-white, and uniform propaganda posters hung upon them.

The Imperial President, draped in a black robe, stood atop the highest tower in Forest City, gazing intensely at all beings; a group of fair-haired, blue-eyed children held stalks of wheat, their smiles pure, under the slogan “The Future of Pure Blood”; and a science fiction scene portrayed an extraterrestrial colony, with the sinister Empire’s flag fluttering over Mars.

The president on the poster and the one on television both appeared excessively youthful.

Indeed.

Too young.

Ian’s historical knowledge told him that it was now the late nineties, so this president should be a centenarian, frail and elderly.

But the person on the screen.

Though still exuding that hysterical fervor, his face seemed at most just over fifty, energetic, and even younger than he appeared in some wartime photographs!

Time… seemed to have slowed down way too much for him.

A cold and terrifying thought instantly struck Ian, almost stopping his breath.

Why has the president lived so long?

And still so… young?

Ian stared intently at the television screen, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. On the screen, the president was waving his arms, passionately outlining the grand blueprint for the Empire’s future.

Every syllable was transmitted through the restaurant’s speaker, striking the nerves of those dining.

At the same time.

His abundant vitality also made Ian’s nerves tingle.

Too young.

This was definitely not the state of a near-century-old man. That vibrant energy, that nearly unwrinkled face, that powerful voice… this was not normal aging.

He couldn’t help but lean sideways, lowering his voice to inquire of an elderly man at an adjacent table who seemed relatively kind: “Excuse me, sir… don’t you find the president’s appearance to be remarkably… energetic? I mean, considering his age…”

Ian dared not utter anything disrespectful about the president, who knows what consequence a slip of the tongue in such a mad country might entail, and he did not want to invite trouble from those hawk-like police.

His primary thought was an utterly erroneous one, leading to a society structure incredibly deformed—a distortion even worse than the capitalist empire.

Indeed.

Look at what the populace is becoming. The old man turned his head, a flicker of confusion in his turbid eyes soon replaced by an almost fanatical reverence.

“How can you ask such a question?” The old man’s eyes gradually became wary, scrutinizing Ian.

He clearly believed Ian should not have posed such a foolish question.

Ian’s heart sank, he immediately forced a sudden realization look, nodding in agreement: “Yes, indeed! You’re right! It was my ignorance; naturally, the president is beyond ordinary comprehension! I’m just… just too amazed by his vigor.”

Saying this, he quickly turned back, burying himself in dealing with the pitiful food on his plate, feeling the suspicious gaze of the old man lingering on his back for quite a while.

Others in the restaurant seemed completely unaware of anything inappropriate.

They listened to the speech, faces glowing with pride and absolute trust, occasionally erupting into low roars or applause in agreement with the president’s words.

Ian buried himself in eating.

Before him was a “standard ration meal.”

A grayish-brown synthetic meat patty, two wilting pieces of vegetable, a bowl of murky bean soup. All tasted bland to the point of tastelessness, but he had to consume it to avoid drawing attention.

Everyone was accustomed to eating such things.

If he pretended to be someone of such age yet wasn’t accustomed.

Wouldn’t it reveal his situation?

“Ugh, truly unappetizing.”

Ian felt as if chewing wax, his thoughts had long wandered. These deeply brainwashed citizens would neither, nor dare to contemplate the abnormalities behind this.

He forced himself to calm down, pretending to focus on watching television while his mind raced. An old-fashioned cathode-ray tube TV was broadcasting the news.

The screen flickered, the snowflakes continuously jumping, yet the image remained clear.

“Today, the great president delivered an important speech at the Imperial Academy of Sciences, announcing the formal launch of Phase Three of the ‘Millennium Plan’…”

The camera switched to a middle-aged man in a crisp military uniform standing at the podium. His hair meticulously combed, eyes sharp, voice resonant and strongly persuasive.

Ian’s chewing suddenly halted.

“Destined to live for eternity? Who are they fooling?”

Ian inwardly sneered.

“Absolutely not due to his supposed ‘greatness.’ Although it appears that the technological tree is somewhat skewed, biological laws shouldn’t be entirely different…”

He had already reached his own conclusion.

If this world, completely controlled by the sinister empire, with magic almost extinct, didn’t have other “rogue elementals” orchestrating behind the scenes, then the answer was glaringly obvious.

Although the president publicly claimed to have eradicated all Wizards and obliterated magic, he probably still secretly holds onto a lot of ‘treasures’ plundered from Wizards!

For instance… the Elixir of Immortality? Or some magic potion able to greatly delay aging, even maintain youth? Together with some sophisticated disguising magic or alchemy props concealing his real age?

After all, Grindelwald was once his collaborator, that caliber of Dark Wizard having access to a few forbidden ways of immortality would be entirely plausible.

“Or perhaps…” Ian contemplated another more astonishing possibility, “Could it be that the elixir of immortality, which no one could truly succeed in my world, has been successfully researched in this universe by Grindelwald or one of his magic potion genius subordinates? And then… the president claimed those fruits of immortality plus eternal youth?”