Shelter 404's First Weapon Production Line Goes Live!

Northern River Valley Province. A bitter north wind howled, whipping snow across the endless expanse like flying daggers. As far as the eye could see, countless craters pocked the cracked, frozen earth. The entire wasteland looked as though it had been gouged open by some monstrous plow, leaving devastation in every direction. Beneath every inch of soil lay charred corpses. On a gentle hill not far away, a burning banner emblazoned with a lion stood slanted in the ground— The banner of the Legion! Ten days ago, the Legion's expeditionary army, locked in a stalemate with the Great Ravine, had launched its first winter offensive against the Ravine. The sudden onslaught of winter had pushed both sides' physical and mental endurance to their absolute limits. Everyone knew the final showdown had arrived. The battle-hardened General Klaas had acted decisively. Seizing the opportunity presented by the blizzard's arrival, he launched a general assault while the brutal weather suppressed the Great Ravine's Sacred Shield system. His tactical judgment had been sound. Regrettably, while the blizzard had indeed hindered the Sacred Shield system, it had done nothing to weaken the defenders' resolve. The drones' aerial bombs swept through like reapers' scythes, bringing down a rain of steel across the battlefield. The Legion's artillery retaliated fiercely, laying down cover fire as light and heavy armored units charged alongside hordes of light infantry spanning the hills and fields. Across a defensive line stretching barely a dozen kilometers, full legions of ten thousand men were fed into the grinder wave after wave, yet not a single man returned. The entire battlefield had turned into a brutal meat grinder. Both sides suffered grievous casualties, but the price paid by the Legion was overwhelmingly steeper. The distant rumble of artillery sounded once more like the thrum of war drums, but anyone could tell that the drumming came from troops on their last legs. A man in a navy-blue uniform was jolted awake by the blast. Shaking his head, he spat the mud from his mouth and struggled to crawl up from the frozen ground. Ten minutes ago, as a decurion, he had been ordered to lead a twenty-man light infantry squad to plug a breach in the defense. His commanding officer had given him no detailed battle plan, issuing only a single command—"No retreat"—before shoving him straight into the fray. When he opened his eyes again, that burning banner was already over a hundred meters away. Scanning his surroundings, he saw no one left alive, only earth baked so hot the snow had completely evaporated. He looked down, spotting his dangling, shredded pant leg and half his intestines spilling from his abdomen. Unable to hold back the terror tearing through his chest any longer, he dropped his rifle into the mud and collapsed, wailing like an infant. Similar scenes were unfolding all across this devastated land. Meanwhile, dozens of kilometers behind him, on the plains leading toward the northwest of River Valley Province, a westbound convoy attempting to retreat was suffering a catastrophic blow. They had intended to withdraw to the west, but two power armor formations, having broken through the northern defense perimeter, had intercepted them in short order. Steel burned, and survivors could be counted on one hand. A suit of power armor mounted with a shoulder searchlight dragged a blood-soaked man from the mangled wreckage of an off-road vehicle. "I can pay... a ransom." Missing a tooth and with his left eye sealed shut by blood and filth, he could still barely force out words. "We've lost... I surrender." Defeat held no terror for him. Klaas had spent a lifetime in the military; he had not won every single battle he fought. Yet the soldier in the power armor paid him no heed. After comparing his features against a holographic image, the operator turned toward a comrade beside him. "It's him. Klaas, supreme commander of the expeditionary force." "Are you sure he's not a clone or a double?" "Not entirely, but does it even matter?" A chorus of laughter broke out. Indeed. Did it matter? The Legion's forces in River Valley Province had been thoroughly eradicated. Hundreds of thousands of their troops had been wiped out; the remainder were either dead or scattered in flight. Even if a general stripped of his troops had survived, what difference could he possibly make? The power-armored soldier looked back down at the man trapped in his grip, shaking the aging sack of flesh and blood as if dangling a scrawny chick. "There's a deathclaw den nearby." "Splendid. Those little rascals must be starving." "They're going to love this present." Hearing their banter, Klaas's otherwise unflinching face twisted with a hint of panic. His withered hands clawed fruitlessly at the steel vice clamped around his throat. "If you... kill me... the Legion... will never let this go!" Klaas choked, his breathing growing ragged. The soldier stared into his eyes with cold mockery. "Then let them come." "There are no cowards in the Ravine." * * * Dawn broke across the horizon. Scattered murmurs disturbed the morning peace outside the east gate of Changjiu Farm. Standing atop the perimeter wall, a young guard let out a yawn and cast a tired glance at his comrade arriving for the shift change. "You're finally here." A horse-faced guard approached, holding an iron mug filled with boiling water. He peered out past the wall. His name was Liu Ding, Wrench's adjutant. His name had actually been Rivet before, but the Administrator, fond of bestowing names upon people, had rechristened him, and he had accepted it with utter delight. "Anything happen last night?" "Nothing," Lü Bei replied, shaking his head as he slung his rifle over his shoulder. "I kept an eye on them all night. Aside from loud snoring, there wasn't anything out of the ordinary... I'll leave this to you. I need to catch up on some sleep." He was the youngest member of the outpost's guard corps, having just turned fourteen last month, though he already looked no different from an adult. In the guard corps, age and background were of no consequence. The Administrator's only demands were loyalty and honesty. Though the youngest of the lot, Lü Bei felt he measured up to that standard better than anyone else. Having lost his family long ago, he harbored unconditional faith in the Lord Administrator who had rescued him from the marauders' dungeon. Standing watch was nothing; he was willing to die for him without hesitation. "Go get some rest, kid. I've got things covered here." Liu Ding patted the young guard on the shoulder. After watching him depart, he set the iron mug down upon the frost-coated concrete breastwork. Gazing toward the refugee camp, he unslung the Arbitrator rifle from his back and kept his eyes fixed attentively in that direction. A few refugees emerged from the camp to scavenge for firewood outside, while others set up cooking pots, tossing in snow to melt it down. The man named Jiu Li was directing them, appearing to keep everything in orderly shape, but Liu Ding remained skeptical that he could truly keep this crowd in check. Unlike Iron Axe's nomad tribe, Liu Ding's keen experience told him at a glance that these people were far from a united group. Both the layout and orientation of their makeshift shelters, as well as the positions of their campfires, indicated there were at least four distinct factions among them... perhaps even more. Elsewhere, the prisoners of war were also being rounded up and sent out to gather firewood. The fuel consumption of all Changjiu Farm had surged several times over. According to Old Luka, they would need to erect two more earthen charcoal kilns just to break even on fuel. Those Legion prisoners would likely be spending the entire day outside hauling wood. Bearing the Lord Administrator's instructions firmly in mind, Liu Ding tightened his grip on his heavy rifle and shook off any lingering drowsiness. "Let's hope nothing goes sideways." * * * At the outpost. Having come up to the surface early in the morning before the bank opened and before most players had logged on, Xiaoyu quietly built a snowman in the plaza in front of the sanatorium. Though it might have been a pointless gesture and the snowman looked rather lumpy, she still wanted to do something for the brave people defending the shelter's safety. *Do your best on today's adventure too!* She hung a wooden plaque around the snowman's belly, inscribed with a line of crooked characters she had recently learned to write. Finally, her grand project was complete. Dusting the snow off her mittens, Xiaoyu skipped backward a couple of steps. Her eyes sparkled brightly as she inspected her masterpiece, giving it a pleased thumbs-up. "Not bad at all! Xiaoyu did great!" Praising herself in an imitation of the Administrator's tone, Xiaoyu scampered off in high spirits. A short while later, the players began logging on in waves. Seeing the snowman in the plaza and the crooked words on the plaque, countless players felt their hearts melt on the spot. "!!!" "Waaah! This snowman! Little Klee definitely built this for me!" "Hello, nine-one-one? Time to meet your year-end quota, officers. I just caught a pervert for you." "I feel energy surging through my entire body! I could take on a split-claw crab barehanded right now!" "A split-claw crab? You can crush those with one hand tied behind your back!" "Let's roll, brother!" "Hehe, Xiaoyu definitely built this to cheer me on. Don't you worry, Big Sis will stay safe, and I'll make you some delicious mushroom soup when I get back!" Not content with mere words, Yaya pulled a handsome, large mushroom from her pocket and carefully stuck it onto the snowman as a nose. "Wait for me! I think it's still missing something!" Seeing Yaya's addition, Tengteng clapped her hands as inspiration struck. She spun around and ran back to her cabin, returning with a scarf that she wrapped snugly around the snowman's neck. "Nice!" Stroking her chin with deep satisfaction, Tengteng nodded proudly. "Now it looks way better!" Shouldering a freshly crafted rocket, Mosquito grinned and tried to join the commotion, but before he could even reach the plaza, a pack of overenthusiastic players tackled him to the ground, shoving his face into the snow. "What are you guys doing?! My rocket! That's my rocket!" "Dammit! Pay up first!" Yawning, Xia Yan carried Xiao Qi up to the third floor. Looking out the window at the players howling and cheering in the plaza at the crack of dawn, she couldn't help muttering a complaint. "I really envy them. How do they have so much energy first thing in the morning?" "Xiao Qi was full of energy too, until a strange woman carried me upstairs." Xia Yan glared down at the wastebasket robot. "What's that supposed to mean? Did I do something wrong by helping you up?" Xiao Qi's camera pointedly turned away from her. "Xiao Qi does not wish to speak with you today. Please try again tomorrow." "As if I care!" Talk about insufferable! Rolling her eyes, Xia Yan turned and headed downstairs to open the weapon shop. Today's Shelter 404 was just as lively as yesterday. The energetic players headed out early to tackle their day's labor. As for Chu Guang, he was naturally not slacking off either. As the game planner, he knew full well he couldn't just sit in front of a computer screen spying on the forums all day; he had to do what a proper planner was supposed to do. For instance, securing more perks and upgrades for his players. * * * At No. 81 Steel Mill. Standing beside a machine that occupied roughly six to seven square meters of floor space, Chu Guang looked it up and down. After a long moment, he asked, "This is called... a punch press?" "Yes, respected Lord Administrator! It's a bit crude, but its functions aren't lacking in the slightest," Brother Toilet Cable said with a grin. "By the way, this is my graduation project... though you might not know what a graduation project is." *You guys really take me for an idiot, don't you?* Chu Guang thought to himself, though he said nothing aloud, keeping his expression entirely deadpan. That was the beauty of roleplaying an NPC. When he didn't feel like acknowledging someone, he didn't have to; when he didn't feel like explaining, he kept quiet, and nobody would call him rude. It was infinitely better than working in sales. Brother Levin chimed in with a laugh. "That's right! The operating principle of a punch press is essentially the same everywhere: converting circular motion into linear motion. We designed an electric motor to drive a flywheel, which engages through a clutch to turn gears, a crankshaft, and connecting rods, driving the slide downward to stamp the workpiece. The maximum punch force is only average; making engine blocks would be tough, but stamping out AK parts is no problem at all. The only headache is our lubricant quality—we made it from birch-leaf chrysanthemum terpenic acid and turpentine... Anyway, it works for now. We can fine-tune it down the road." Brother Toilet Cable snapped, "What AK! It's the LD!" Brother Levin scratched his head sheepishly. "Right, right, right, haha. Slipped my mind." To be frank, far from finding the machine crude, Chu Guang was utterly blown away. Were the parts for this machine really cut using his plasma-assisted CNC machine tool? Talk about a fast track to prison! Beside the punch press sat a hot piercing mill, designed to produce seamless steel tubes. Smelted steel was fed under rollers to be compressed into round billets, clamped into position, and pierced using an electric-motor-driven mandrel plug before being cut to length, cooled, and transferred to a workbench where a boring tool drew the rifling. Next to the workbench sat a batch of finished steel barrels and receiver components—the exact order Chu Guang had commissioned earlier. "Are these two pieces of equipment easy to operate?" "Incredibly easy!" Brother Levin patted his chest, guaranteeing with absolute confidence, "Lord Administrator, whatever else you want manufactured, just leave it to us! We guarantee our products will satisfy you!" Chu Guang looked at the two of them with approval and nodded contentedly. "You've done an excellent job!" "With these weapons, we will have far greater confidence surviving in this world!" The promissory check he had written before could finally be cashed in! *Mission Complete!* Both players received the notification simultaneously and instantly checked their VMs. Seeing the final payment deposited into their enterprise account, Brother Levin and Brother Toilet Cable beamed with undisguised excitement. They were rich! Chu Guang promptly placed a new order with them, then summoned the warehouse manager to inspect and receive the batch before hauling it to storage. The assembly could be handed over to Boss Xia. She had plenty of tools. If any parts lacked sufficient precision to fit together cleanly, a little filing and fitting would do the trick without much difficulty. Still, Chu Guang figured that concern was likely redundant; after all, the dies for that punch press had been milled using a magnetically confined plasma CNC machine tool. Inadequate die precision? Utterly impossible! As for the inherent kinematic discrepancies caused by mechanical motion, their impact was negligible. Watching Xia Yan assemble the rifle, Chu Guang held the finished weapon and turned it over in his hands with great excitement. He snapped in a loaded magazine and took it to the firing range outside the west gate to test its feel. He fired several single shots first, followed by a full burst emptying the magazine. The 7mm caliber was slightly smaller than the 7.62mm used by an AK, but the 50mm casing allowed for a larger powder charge, giving it formidable penetrative power. Whether used against humans or mutants, it would pack a serious punch! "Not bad at all," Xia Yan said, glancing at Chu Guang with surprise. "I had no idea you knew how to design weapons." "I don't have that kind of talent." "Then where did it come from?" Chu Guang pondered for a moment before replying, "You could think of it like this... We have a chatting lounge where a lot of people have too much time on their hands. They spend all day nitpicking and bickering over trivialities, and as they argue, someone invariably posts blueprints they managed to dig up from who-knows-where." To be honest, he had done his fair share of baiting on those forums too. Xia Yan froze. "The barrier to entry for your arguments is that high...?" "Quite the opposite—there is no barrier at all. And precisely because there's no barrier, you get all kinds of people," Chu Guang said, ejecting the empty magazine with an animated grin. "Never mind that. What do you think of this rifle? How does it measure up against Boulder City's Drone X-2 assault rifle?" Xia Yan rolled her eyes at him. "When I said it was good, I meant compared to pipe rifles. You're seriously hoping to pit a small-workshop craft against weapons turned out by full-scale factories?" Chu Guang smiled unperturbed. "Manufacturing experience accumulates through practice. It will get better with time." Once the players died a few more times, wouldn't that practical experience come pouring in? "I suppose that's true. For a first generation, it really is impressive." Xia Yan picked up a cooled cartridge casing from the ground and examined it closely, rubbing her chin. "I can help you look over ways to improve it." Beside her, complete silence followed. Xia Yan turned her head. Seeing Chu Guang staring at her in astonished disbelief, she started slightly and whispered, "Is something wrong?" "Nothing." Chu Guang shook his head. It was certainly a rare sight, though. Lately, this woman was growing increasingly diligent, almost as if she were a completely different person. Drawn by the gunfire at the west gate, nearby players looked over with curious eyes, whispering in fascination. "Story event!" "The Sickle! It's the Sickle! Hahaha, it's finally dropped!" "Damn it! I'm talking about the plotline between the Administrator and the weapon shop proprietress! Did nobody notice the look in her eyes? Brother Mole, you know what I mean!" "Get lost! What does that have to do with me? Are you trying to get me muted again?!" "Tsk, this Mole has lost his ambition." "Roast him, then." "%¥#@!"