An NPC Setting Up a Stall in the Players' Market?

Official website: Fang Chang: "A new landmark has been unlocked north of the abandoned construction site: the abandoned department store. There's a ton of Gnawers inside! We basically cleared the first floor, but when heading down into the basement, the VM flagged that the local radiation level exceeds the safety threshold. Well, to put it bluntly, there's probably good stuff down there. Any Constitution-type players around? We're just one Constitution-type short." Sisi: "Me, me, me!" Tail: "Tail too! Uh, I think I'm Agility-type, but it doesn't matter, I know how to ambush! (｀ω′＊)" Fang Chang: "Sorry, can't take newbies on this run, haha. Let me restate the requirement: 10 points in Constitution, preferably higher." Tail: "QAQ" Elaina: "I'm Constitution-type LV4, main stat exactly 10. Talent... forget it, pretend I don't have one. (doge)" Fang Chang: "Check your DMs, bro." Scavenger Lv99: "Need a lizard? I can take quite a beating, radiation or poison alike!" Ye Shi: "Figure out a way to get out of the shelter first. (doge)" Scavenger Lv99: "Damn it!" Tengteng: "Got up at four in the morning to read PPTs. Read so long I almost forgot to go to work, and there are still a few things I don't get. Wuwuwu, going bald. This game is getting harder and harder! (T^T)" WC Really Has Mosquitoes: "Asking for a friend: do the goblins want to know if the PPT you're watching is legit?" Tengteng: "(＊·ω·)×╰ひ╯" WC Really Has Mosquitoes: "(°Д°＊)" Today, the official website was as calm and peaceful as ever. Aside from a few bros arguing over which steel grade was best for seamless steel tubing, the entire forum was remarkably harmonious. Chu Guang did not join the chatter, merely marking those guys' accounts quietly and putting them on the next batch of the whitelist. Stop blabbering—if you think you can do it, show me. When Alpha 0.6 comes out, you'll have your chance to shine. Actually, Chu Guang had always wondered: the Wasteland OL forum danced on the razor's edge of illegality every single day, so how had it not been blocked by the firewall yet? The website had been online for over a month now, and daily active users were almost breaking ten thousand—hardly a small crowd. That kid named Ye Ao must have filed plenty of reports. Yet, it had accomplished absolutely nothing. "Ridiculous." Even delivering helmets right to players' doorsteps without anyone noticing—if black technology could pull that off, the tech was indeed absurdly overpowered. It was practically like magic... Twirling the ballpoint pen in his hand, Chu Guang leaned back in his chair and clicked his tongue. Just then, he suddenly remembered the "morphogenetic field" mentioned in that audio recording. "Xiao Qi." Xiao Qi, who was recharging, tilted its camera upward. "What is it, Master?" Chu Guang pondered for a moment and said, "Have you heard of morphogenetic fields?" "Is it the primary research topic of Shelter 404?" "Huh?" Chu Guang sat up in surprise, staring at the wastebasket-shaped robot huddled in the corner. "You know about it?" "Master... I told you before, all the information Xiao Qi has archived was obtained from you," Xiao Qi said, its voice sounding somewhat helpless. Well then. Excited for nothing. Not that it mattered much anyway. Chu Guang leaned back in his chair, tossed aside his pen, grabbed the mouse, and fired up *Stellaris* in his library to start another round of galaxy-watching. ... Ever since it was equipped with the "Hummingbird" drone, Xiao Qi's field of view had expanded dramatically. The silvery-white sphere usually hovered quietly fifty to a hundred meters above the outpost; such a tiny speck went completely unnoticed. If necessary, it could be redeployed around the park. As long as it didn't fly beyond three kilometers, the signal remained excellent. Through the VM on his arm, Chu Guang only had to swipe lightly on the touchscreen with his index finger to drag the drone horizontally and redeploy it. This sensation felt just like playing an RTS game from a god's-eye perspective. The only pity was that the players had minds of their own; he couldn't box-select the little blue figures on the screen to micromanage them. Otherwise, it truly would have been an RTS game. Peeping at the feed was far too entertaining. Clutching his VM, Chu Guang dragged the drone over to the entrance of 76th Street for a bit to spectate the players farming the greenhouse ruins, then dragged it near the mutant tribe to see what those green-skinned muscleheads were up to. Hmm, they really did seem quite busy. Several more corpses had appeared by the stockade gate, but strangely, apart from the visible and hidden sentries, none of those muscleheads were seen leaving the stronghold. Where did these corpses come from? Did they materialize out of thin air? Unfortunately, the mutant stronghold had wooden domes over its structures, and the corridors were hung with rags and clothes, making it impossible to see the interior from high above. Maybe... he should randomly select a player to go in and feed them a kill for reconnaissance? Not entirely out of the question. It was not until the drone's battery was about to run dry and triggered an automatic return that Chu Guang reluctantly stowed his VM and handed control of the drone back to Xiao Qi. ... As dusk approached. The market outside the north gate was bustling with activity. Some set up stalls selling barbecue, some put on shows eating mushrooms, while others sold clothing, knives, and even "Goblin RPGs." One had to admit that every single one of these players was remarkably resourceful. Even if the game itself didn't offer much content, they could create their own and have a blast. The locals living nearby were also drawn over by the lively atmosphere. However, they felt too shy to get close. On top of that, their pockets were empty—they had no silver coins. After watching from the sidelines with envy for a while, they quietly slipped away. "The bluecoats' market is so lively." "The clothes they make are so pretty, and they look handsome too." "I saw split-claw crab shells. Did they use split-claw crab shells to make armor plates? It doesn't look very durable, but they actually killed a split-claw crab!" "They're actually roasting meat with charcoal! What an extravagance." "If only we could trade with them..." "Yeah. The children can't just drink milk forever. Once they grow older, they need some porridge or mush... Their ram horn potatoes look great, way bigger than the ones we saw up north." "I wonder if they need day laborers. Game is scarce in winter anyway. It would be nice if we could earn some coin with our strength." "I want to save up for an axe. Their axes seem sturdier than ours—made of steel... I've only ever seen steel tools in big survivor settlements." Sitting before the campfire in the center of their village, eating flatbread and sipping warm camel milk, the refugees whispered among themselves, their faces filled with undisguised envy. The bluecoats didn't need to pile up massive bonfires to huddle together for warmth like they did; instead, they dipped small torches into black tar, illuminating their entire camp. Simply too wealthy! Still, envy aside. Hierarchy and deference were practically written into their DNA. Being able to secure a foothold beside a major faction's stronghold without being driven away was already enough to satisfy them. At least their current life was quite content. Watching the faint plumes of black smoke drifting from the distant camp, Wu Tiefu sat among his clansmen, lost in deep thought. Nothing more happened that night. The following morning. Wu Tiefu went to the outpost alone. After asking the guards on duty at the gate, he was granted an audience with Chu Guang, who had just come up from the shelter. "Respected Lord, there is a matter for which I humbly beg your assistance!" Again? Chu Guang yawned. "Seeds are not for loan. Don't even bring it up." Wu Tiefu looked embarrassed, bowing his head as he explained, "I was presumptuous last time. I have not come to you about seeds this time." Chu Guang cast a curious glance at him. "Oh? Speak." Wu Tiefu didn't beat around the bush and spoke bluntly. "My clansmen wish to set up a stall in the market outside your north gate. We humbly beg your permission to borrow a piece of land the size of a camel hide." How big was a piece of land the size of a camel hide? Chu Guang had never heard such a bizarre unit of measurement. However, the size wasn't the point. "A stall? What do you want to trade?" Wu Tiefu continued, "Some leather goods, salvaged parts, tools we forged ourselves, game from hunting, and the like... I swear on my head that my clansmen will not cause you any trouble. We only wish to trade for some grain and tubers to feed our children." Swearing on his head, huh. Typical survivor settlements were actually very reluctant to trade with refugees. After all, wanderers rarely had anything good to offer, and no one liked uncivilized stallholders. But looking at it from another angle... Chu Guang pondered for a moment. Having made up his mind, he looked at the chieftain before him and said, "I can grant you entry to the market outside the north gate, but you must abide by the rules we establish. Such as ensuring business practices conform to public order and decency, keeping the path in front of your stall clean and tidy, not obstructing traffic, no private fighting, no forced buying or selling, no private slave trading, no selling addictive drugs, and so forth. "Furthermore, operating a stall in our market strictly requires the use of our legal tender. Any goods sold must also meet quality standards. If disputes arise, everything will be settled according to the posted terms and arbitration. "The specific regulations are posted on the notice board by the north gate. If you can accept them, I will assign you a stall." Wu Tiefu bowed respectfully. "We accept, Lord." "I hope you have given serious thought to the weight behind that word 'accept,'" Chu Guang said, looking at him. "Then it's settled." ... In truth, permitting these nomads to deepen their interactions with the players was something Chu Guang had considered thoroughly. Far earlier than Wu Tiefu had approached him. As long as it was properly managed, moderate trade could foster better relations between both sides. The players would get bargains, the locals would get food, and he could naturally channel copper and silver coins into the nomads' pockets. This was definitely a win-win move. Or perhaps a win-win-win? After all, he won three times over. Evening. The players out working carried their spoils from the day and trickled back to the outpost. Just as they were about to set up stalls at the north gate market to do business, they were suddenly shocked to find an NPC stall had popped up by the north gate! Didn't NPCs only do business inside the base? Could it be that the prosperity level had risen and triggered a hidden storyline? In front of the stall, two NPC maidens dressed in animal skins with an exotic flair sat on the ground, a brazier of charcoal set beside them for warmth. Neither was very old. The elder was only in her early twenties, composed and quiet in her movements. The younger was around fifteen or sixteen, her large eyes blinking as she glanced around, full of curiosity about everything here. The two were likely sisters. The glow of the charcoal fire reflected on their wheat-colored cheeks, masking their malnourished complexions and giving them a rosy, radiant look. Before them lay a camel hide displaying accessories made of colorful pebbles, scrap parts, iron daggers, leather goods like sheaths and holsters, as well as freshly butchered hyena meat. And it was prime leg meat and tenderloin at that. Aside from that, there was freshly milked milk in iron and aluminum cans—in short, the stall had a bit of everything. Although the players were not particularly short on game, they were brimming with curiosity about an NPC suddenly appearing in a player trading market. "Why is this NPC in our market?" "So cute!" "Where's Brother Mole? You know what I mean." "Damn it! All you guys think about is doujin! Who's taking the fall if you get muted?" "Uh, we haven't even said doujin yet." "!!!" "Tail thinks they're huge!" Chu Guang was also curious about what these locals were selling, so he walked over to the stall to take a look. Seeing the Administrator approach, the players immediately cleared a path, eagerly waiting for a cutscene to trigger. Chu Guang looked at the two of them and asked, "What are your names?" Just as the older sister was about to speak, the younger one straightened her arm and enthusiastically raised her hand to answer first. "My name is Qiu Ye!" Chu Guang had pretty much figured out this tribe's naming conventions by now. They probably just named children after whatever they saw or whatever happened during their journeys. Still sounded more normal than Tiefu. "And your sister?" "Qiu Cao!" *Pfft.* Chu Guang almost couldn't hold back a snort. But he held it in. "...Good names." Secretly observing the expression on the Administrator's face, the older sister said softly, "Lord, my little sister is still young and lacks discipline. If she has offended you... please punish me, and spare her." "Not at all, your sister is quite cute." Having asked them so many questions, buying nothing would make him seem petty. Chu Guang glanced over the items on the stall. In accordance with the rules he had set, beside every commodity was a wooden placard clearly marked with Arabic numerals indicating the price. Chu Guang had taught them these numerals, primarily to make them legible to players. Good, these refugees were obedient. Not quite as "evil" as word of mouth made them out to be. Dropping a silver coin, Chu Guang picked a smaller plastic bottle. "Let's try some camel milk." Qiu Ye said, "Ah, the camel milk is the bottle next to—" "It's fine, cow's milk works too." With that, Chu Guang grabbed the plastic bottle and went to find Yaya for identification. The young girl wanted to run after him to explain, but her sister, whose face had remained flushed and silent throughout, held her back and shook her head, whispering softly, "We cannot pass beyond that gate, we cannot run around in the market, and we cannot talk back to that lord. Understood?" "Everything here belongs to him. If he wants something, just give it to him." Besides, he had followed the rules and paid. Although his tone might have sounded a bit stern, he was a benevolent ruler. The little girl looked aggrieved. She had only meant well, yet she still got scolded by her sister. "Fine." Though she said it, she still felt suffocated inside. That really wasn't camel milk... The older sister smiled gently and stroked her sister's head. "Good girl." The surrounding players chattered excitedly about the scene that had just played out. While some theories were completely unhinged, they had grasped the gist of it. Especially seeing that the Administrator had bought something, they all followed suit. "Give me a dagger sheath!" "Which one is camel milk? I want camel milk! Huh? That's how you read it, right?" "The one from before is gone!" "What kind of fruit is this? It looks pitch-black—is it edible?" "Who cares! Buy it and let Boss Yaya taste-test it, then we'll know!"