Chapter 35: The Current State of Merrow: Aftermath of the Grand Inquest

The embers of the "Great Trial of Justice" did not, as Keisha had hoped, cool into the bedrock of a new civilization. Instead, beneath the radiance of the Meiro Heaven, they ignited a twisted and scorching flame that burned through the very structure of Angel society.

One hundred years.

It was enough time for the hammer of judgment to echo into every corner, and enough time for the boundaries of "justice," catalyzed by vengeance, to become both blurred and razor-sharp.

The numbers were cold, yet they painted a harrowing picture:

60% of male angels had been permanently stripped of their status, branded with the shameful mark of "Sky Scum." The most heinous among them were publicly executed under the gaze of countless hateful eyes, reduced to dust. Many more were banished to the desolate, dead zones at the edge of the universe—places more hopeless than hell—to pay for their sins in eternal solitude and torment.

The fate of the remaining 40% was equally bleak. Those with lesser offenses were cast into cold prisons, with sentences ranging from centuries to millennia. Others faced the seizure of their property, astronomical fines, forced labor, and an endless cycle of public confession—standing in squares and before courts, repeating humiliating pleas of guilt in front of their former victims or their families.

Then there was the broader "collective punishment": anyone deemed to have "benefited" from systemic oppression during the old Heavenly Palace era, or even those who had simply "turned a blind eye" to the injustices suffered by female angels around them, was included in the purge. Minor offenses resulted in a downgrade of social credit, barring them from core employment and social benefits; major ones led to imprisonment and labor. An invisible net, woven from the concept of "original historical sin," had descended upon almost every male angel.

The order of the Meiro Heaven, while settling old scores, had inevitably slid toward another extreme—radical feminism.

The judiciary, that scale which should have been impartial, tipped completely.

Female angel priority became the rule: in almost every domain—job opportunities, social welfare, education, medical resources, and even housing—female angels held natural, institutional priority. Male applications often required multiple times the effort and proof just to be considered for equal qualifications, and more often than not, they were simply excluded.

Male angels were left without hope: core judicial positions, administrative bodies, military commands, and key scientific departments—all hubs of power and resources—were held exclusively by female angels. The roles available to males were largely low-tech, high-risk, or purely manual labor. Paths for advancement? Practically welded shut. Hope? As ephemeral and elusive as vapor in a desert.

The double standard of judicial sentencing became the most glaring and suffocating reality.

Case One (Civil, Property Dispute): A female angel accused her male neighbor (a former low-level clerk in the Heavenly Palace era) of encroaching on a plot of ancestral land. The evidence was flimsy, consisting only of the woman’s verbal testimony and an ancient, dubious rubbing of a land deed. The male neighbor provided complete proof of ownership and testimony from several (male) neighbors. The verdict: The judge (a female angel) accepted the plaintiff’s claim that "as a historically marginalized group, her testimony is inherently more credible." Ignoring the defendant's evidence, she ordered the man to return the land immediately and pay for the plaintiff's "emotional distress." When the man protested in court, he was sentenced to an additional thirty months of forced labor for "contempt of court."

Case Two (Criminal, Violent Assault): A female angel and a male angel (a retired soldier with a clean record) argued in a tavern. The female angel initiated the pushing and insulted the man’s parents. The man, pushed to his limit, pushed back, causing the female angel a minor abrasion. She sued the bailiff, accusing the male of "intentional violent assault." The verdict: The judge (a female angel) ruled that "violence by a male against a female, regardless of the cause, is of an extremely heinous nature." She sentenced the man to three hundred years in prison and ordered him to apologize publicly to the female angel.

***

**Voluntary Departure: Arthur’s Choice**

On the outskirts of the Sky City, at a dilapidated, soon-to-be-abandoned starport that once served as a bustling trade node, only a few rusted private ships remained. Arthur, a male angel and former logistics officer for the Angel Legion, stood beside a small freighter barely capable of light-speed travel. His once-sturdy frame was now hunched, his golden hair had lost its luster, and his face was etched with the weariness of time and struggle. His eyes no longer held the sharpness of a soldier, but a bone-deep numbness and a trace of resolve.

His wife, an ordinary female angel, clutched his arm, weeping: "Arthur! Don't go! Please! We... we can go to a border planet, maybe... maybe things will be better there... the trials will eventually pass..."

Arthur slowly and firmly pried her hands away. His voice was hoarse and low, devoid of anger, filled only with infinite sorrow:

"Pass? Lilian, can’t you see? The trials will never pass. They have become the new order, the new shackles. We are born guilty, and we will remain guilty forever." He gestured to his chest, where a legion emblem had once rested; now, there was only a blurred, empty mark. "In the legion, I was a logistics officer, managing supplies for thousands. I worked diligently and never once skimmed a share from any of my sisters. But the tribunal said my position itself was an encroachment on resources, a theft of advancement opportunities from female angels. They said I turned a blind eye to the 'minor injustices' happening around me... minor injustices?"

Arthur let out a short, bitter laugh. "I couldn't even protect myself; how was I supposed to manage the affairs of others? The fines drained all my savings, and the public confessions... ha, being pointed at like a monkey by them... I’ve had enough."

He looked toward the distant, brightly lit center of the Sky City—the core of the Meiro Heaven, and the source of all his humiliation. "General Hefeng... perhaps he truly has abandoned us. Two hundred years, and not a word. No new uprisings, no hope." His gaze swept over his wife. "What is there to stay for? To continue being 'reserve Sky Scum,' someone who cannot lift his head at home and for whom even breathing is a mistake in the new order? To watch our daughter be indoctrinated in school to hate her own father?"

"Lilian, if I leave, at least... you won't be dragged down by my 'original sin' any longer. Perhaps... if they see that I was 'sensible enough to leave,' they might treat you a little better."

Arthur stopped looking at his weeping wife, turned decisively, and stepped onto the worn-out freighter. The airlock hissed shut, the engines roared in a dying gasp, and the ship wobbled, struggling to break free from the port's gravity before veering off into the deep, unknown darkness of the cosmos. He had no clear destination; he only needed to leave this place—this "home" that no longer recognized him, no longer needed him, and even felt ashamed of his existence.

He was but one silhouette among countless male angels choosing to leave the civilization. They carried their scars, their humiliation, and their bewilderment into the future, vanishing into the vast star sea like driven fireflies. Their departure silently stripped away the foundations of the Angel civilization, taking with it not just population, but a silent, heavy indictment of the "New Order."

***

**The Humiliation of Staying: Eamon’s Daily Life**

In the Seventh Residential District of the Sky City, inside an ordinary apartment, the atmosphere was as heavy as solidified lead.

It was dinner time. On the rectangular table, the aroma of the food was smothered by an invisible chill. Eamon, a male angel who had been a planetary geological surveyor during the old Heavenly Palace era, sat with his head down, mechanically shoveling synthetic food into his mouth. Around his neck was a silver electronic collar flashing with a faint red light—the mark of a "moderate offender," signaling that he was under long-term behavioral surveillance and restricted from entering certain public areas.

His wife, Sarah, a female angel working at a community service center, sat at the head of the table, expressionless. Their ten-year-old daughter, Emily, glanced at her father from time to time with a mix of curiosity, confusion, and a hint of the wariness she had been taught.

"The community held another 'Recall the Bitterness, Think of the Sweetness' meeting today," Sarah said, her voice flat and devoid of emotion, as if stating something entirely unrelated to herself. "Aunt Martha talked about her experience of being forced by a male angel officer when she was young. Everyone cried." She paused, her gaze falling on Eamon’s bowed head. "Emily went, too. She was very well-educated."

Eamon’s body stiffened imperceptibly; his hand stopped. He wanted to say something, but his throat felt blocked.

"Daddy," Emily suddenly spoke, her clear, childish voice jarring in the oppressive room. "The teacher said that male angels of the old era were all bad. They bullied female angels, just like... just like the evil dragons in the stories. Did you... did you bully Mommy, too?"

Eamon jerked his head up, his face turning deathly pale. He looked into his daughter’s clear, questioning eyes, and his heart felt as if it were being squeezed by a cold hand, making it impossible to breathe. He wanted to scream, "No! Daddy never did!", but in his daughter’s eyes, the collar around his neck was ironclad proof of his "badness," and under his wife’s cold gaze, any defense seemed pale and powerless.

Sarah spoke at the right moment, her tone carrying a practiced, "objective" air: "Emily, Daddy made mistakes. He didn't have the courage to stand up against those bad things like a true angel. That is why he is now receiving punishment and reform. You must remember this lesson so that when you grow up, you will be an upright, brave angel who upholds the order of justice."

"Reform..." Eamon chewed on the word, and a wave of immense humiliation drowned him. He set down his bowl and chopsticks, his voice dry. "I... I’m full."

He fled the table as if escaping a crime, hiding in the cramped bathroom. In the mirror, he saw a haggard, stubbled face. The cold metal collar around his neck, like a brand of shame, reminded him every moment of his "status"—a sinner, an inferior, an object to be monitored and reformed.

He saw no future. Work? Only the lowest-level surveying assistance on the most remote, dangerous mining planets, with meager pay and constant surveillance. Social life? Almost non-existent; former colleagues avoided him like the plague. Family? His wife treated him like a stranger to be feared, and his daughter’s eyes were full of confusion and alienation.

The thought of suicide, like a venomous snake, coiled around his heart more than once. To stay was to live in hell.

Men like Eamon were experiencing a silent extinction within the Angel civilization. The rates of non-natural deaths (accidents, gene breakdown from overwork, sudden death from mysterious causes) and suicides were showing a frightening, sharp upward curve among the male angel population. Their pain and despair were drowned out by the grand narrative led by female angels, which sang the praises of the "justice" and "progress" of the new era.

***

Deep within the Heavenly Blade Palace of the Meiro Heaven, in a quiet chamber overlooking the magnificent night view of the Sky City, the three queens gathered once more. The atmosphere, however, was vastly different from when the trials began a century ago. A heavy, indescribable weight permeated the air.

Keisha sat at the head of the table, her golden eyes deep and calm, as if the dazzling lights of the city and the undercurrents flowing beneath them were all under her control. "The drastic shift in demographic structure is the inevitable birth pain of rebuilding order," she said, her voice steady and carrying unquestionable authority. "The sins of the past were as deep as mountains; this generation must pay for them and be cleansed. The departure of the males is the self-purification of history."

"Those who remain will be reshaped under the new rules. One must overcorrect to straighten a crooked object; this is the necessary price for establishing true equality and justice. Time will settle everything, and eventually, we will return to balance."

Liang Bing leaned lazily in her comfortable chair, toying with a sharp flying blade made of dark silver. A careless, cold smirk played on her lips. "Sister is right. That trash with glass hearts who can't handle a little grievance—it's good they’re gone."

"Gene screening, get it? Those who remain are either the ones who truly repent and are willing to atone, or they are 'quality materials' whose genes carry obedience and patience. It’s easier that way, easier to manage. As for those who die?" She scoffed. "Wastes who can't even handle this much pressure are a waste of resources anyway. Survival of the fittest—that is the law of the universe."

Only He Xi sat quietly to the side. Her silver eyes gazed at the shimmering Sky City outside the window. Her vision seemed to pierce through the gorgeous surface, falling upon the dark corners, upon the Eamons wearing their collars, upon the ships of the Arthurs disappearing into the darkness, and upon the individual male lives flickering out behind the cold, statistical data.

Her fingertips tapped rhythmically on the armrest, as if calculating sets of cold, cruel data models. *Male population plummeting... suicide rate spiking abnormally... systemic bias in the judicial system creating new injustice and hatred... radical feminist ideology spreading rapidly at the social base, even risking loss of control...*

Worry, like cold vines, coiled around her core database. She saw the potential for social cleavage, the structural crises that might erupt in the future, and the new toxins sprouting under the banner of "justice."

But in the end, she said nothing. She simply pressed that silent sigh, along with the cold data and profound anxieties, back into the deepest depths of her heart. Her cold, silver eyes returned to the stillness of a deep pool, reflecting Keisha’s resolve and Liang Bing’s ruthlessness.

She knew that at this moment, while the purge was not yet complete and hatred still boiled, any questioning of "overcorrection" would be interpreted as a betrayal of the "Order of Justice" and a sign of disrespect toward their fallen sisters.

Silence, at times, is wisdom; at other times, it is helplessness. The scales had already tipped, and the blade’s edge was chillingly sharp. Beneath the brilliant facade, the future of the Angel civilization was sliding toward an abyss filled with unknowns and hidden dangers.