Funeral

After the battle ended, Chu Guang had the casualties tallied. Thirty-seven guards had been stationed at Changjiu Farm: twenty-five dead, four critically wounded, and the rest carrying light injuries. A total of 221 players participated in the battle, though only about half actually engaged the enemy. Many reinforcements rushing from the outpost arrived just as the fighting had already wrapped up. Aside from four killed and two critically wounded in the melee, the remaining players sustained only light wounds—fewer than ten even if those with motion sickness were counted. Because there were no irreversible injuries, the wounded players could simply lie in the vault's incubation pods for a bit; it was no big deal. As for the marauders, although their initial offensive had swept forward like a split bamboo, they were swiftly ground into the dirt once the players entered the fray. A total of 107 were wiped out, forty of whom had been obliterated by Mosquito's autocannon. When Edge Slacker led a squad over to sweep the area, only one marauder had half a breath left. The scene was so gruesome that Brother Edge couldn't bear to look, so he put the man out of his misery. In addition, more than forty had been captured, half of them severely wounded and over forty percent lightly injured. Slaughtering those who had ceased resisting was not a righteous act, so Wrench had not executed these prisoners, but that by no means implied forgiveness. Dying would let them off far too easily. They ought to repent through hard labor in the ice and snow, reclaiming the wasteland north of Ling Lake until they had atoned for their sins or perished. Because there were not enough cells, everyone was crammed into a single warehouse. The space was so cramped there was not even room to lie down, and it was pitch-black beyond the sight of one's own hand. With no medicine and not even bandages for dressing wounds, several critically wounded captives soon stopped breathing. The rest, even if still alive, would be hard-pressed to survive the night. *** Meanwhile, at the guard quarters. Inside the room where the wounded were placed. A youth with bandages wrapped around his belly lay flat on a stretcher, so weak he had only half a breath remaining. He had taken at least two bullets to the abdomen, and a piece of shrapnel was still embedded in his shoulder. With injuries this severe, in the backward medical conditions of the wasteland, he was as good as dead. There was not much sorrow in his heart. The moment he picked up a rifle, he had known he might die; he just had not expected this day to come so soon. If he had any regrets, it was probably that he never got to drink that bowl of hot soup in the end. He really wondered what it tasted like... Just as drowsiness began to pull at him, he faintly heard someone calling his name. "Lü Bei!" Straining to slit his eyes open, Lü Bei saw a youth with a bandaged arm running toward him. "...Xu Shun?" "Lü Bei! Thank goodness, you're still alive!" Giving a weak smile, Lü Bei was just about to speak when he saw Xu Shun hurriedly pull out a syringe and plunge it into his arm. No stinging pain followed. Lü Bei even wondered whether there was an actual needle. Watching his friend breathe a sigh of relief, he asked with slight hesitation, "What is this?" "A healing injection! The Administrator handed them out to us. They say as long as you've got half a breath left, it can bring you back!" Xu Shun gave a sheepish grin and continued, thoroughly relieved, "Made it just in time! I thought I'd be too late!" A healing injection? Lü Bei froze. Could that thing really work? Right as the thought crossed his mind, the wounds on his abdomen and shoulder felt as if ten thousand ants were crawling across them, itching so fiercely he could barely resist scratching. His sense of pain began to return. This was a good sign. Lü Bei gradually felt his chilled body warming back up, and his blurred consciousness grew clearer. His eyes widened, filled with disbelief. It really worked?! It was practically a miracle! Seeing Lü Bei slowly recover, Xu Shun held his arm and said excitedly, "Brother, feeling better?" Lü Bei nodded. "Much better... but the shrapnel in my shoulder hasn't been pulled out yet." Xu Shun said, "You're too weak right now for surgery. That shrapnel will probably have to wait until you recover a bit." At that, he sighed ruefully. "Ah, what a shame that dough drop soup got scorched. Still, it tastes alright reheated. Do you feel like you can eat anything? If you can stomach it, I'll go fetch you a bowl." The moment Lü Bei heard there was food, his spirits instantly revived, and he pushed against the bedframe with his hands. "Let's go together." "Together?" Before Xu Shun could react, he watched in astonishment as his good buddy—who only minutes ago had been hanging by a thread—actually sat upright in bed. Rubbing his stomach, Lü Bei gave a goofy grin. "I don't really get it either, but I feel so much better... See? Nothing wrong with me at all." With that, he nimbly hopped down from the bed and urged his friend, "Hurry up, it'll get cold again if we wait!" Lü Bei was not the only one to recover; the other three critically wounded guards also pulled through with the help of the healing injections. However, while a healing injection could accelerate recovery, it could not regenerate severed limbs, nor could it restore burned skin to how it was before. Lü Bei was probably the luckiest of them all, as neither of the two bullets had struck a vital spot. Had they landed just a bit higher or lower, he likely would have spent the rest of his life in regret. "Has all the medicine been handed out?" Standing at the entrance of the guard quarters, Chu Guang found Wrench directing the aftermath operations. This fellow was a tough bastard too. The composite armor plate on the front of his Type-5 exoskeleton was completely shattered, and he had taken a bullet to the left arm and another to the right leg, yet he had stubbornly fought to the very end relying on the exoskeleton's power. Unlike players, these guards had no pain dampeners. Nor did they have a second life. Such valor was worthy of at least a Silver Medal! "It has all been distributed..." Noticing the Administrator's gaze on his chest, Wrench looked down, looking ashamed. "I'm sorry, sir. I ruined the gear you gave me." Chu Guang looked at him and said, "Hold your head up. You did remarkably well. Damaged gear can be fixed, and if it can't be fixed, it can be replaced. But you only have one life. I want you to value the latter far more than the former." Four healing injections, two boxes of anti-inflammatory pills, and more than ten boxes of hemostatic bandages. The intermediate blind boxes Chu Guang had once looked down on as useless had come in tremendously handy this time. However, this consumption had almost entirely emptied his medical reserves. With a major war looming and his points apparently accumulated to 120, he decided he would dump them into intermediate blind boxes once he returned. A look of gratitude surfaced on Wrench's face. Having seen the prices in the store, he knew full well how expensive that exoskeleton was. Lifting his head, he answered in a resounding voice, "Yes, sir!" Chu Guang nodded approvingly at him. "Later, I'll have someone craft a steel breastplate to replace it." "Now, take me to see the wounded." "Yes, sir!" Wrench nodded with excitement and led the way. Just as the two walked inside the guard quarters, a young man slipped out. Outside, the north wind howled. Lü Bei pulled his hole-riddled overcoat tighter around himself and walked a short distance north. A fierce battle had broken out here earlier. The ground was covered in trampled snow and mud mixed with blood, and startling footprints were pressed firmly into the ground, not yet completely frozen. A few guards who had arrived as reinforcements were on duty nearby, supervising several prisoners of war as they dragged corpses into rows in the clearing. The bodies were easy to tell apart: the guards wore black overcoats, while most of the marauders wore unsightly furs. The guards' bodies were covered with cloth or other materials. The marauders' corpses lay face-up; trucks would haul them away shortly. Corpses would attract scavenging mutants and were even more likely to bring plagues, so they had to be disposed of promptly. Noticing the youth bundled in the coat, a guard walked over and urged him to leave. "Hey, what are you wandering around here for? Get back inside before your wounds freeze and rot." Lü Bei murmured softly, "I'll head back in a moment. I'm looking for someone." Seeing the expression on his face, the guard paused. After a brief silence, he nodded. "Make it quick, then." "Thank you!" After a nod of gratitude, Lü Bei trotted inside. Searching through the pile of the dead for a while, he finally found the person he was looking for. His breath caught slightly. Trembling fingers peeled back the burlap. Looking at the frost-covered wrinkles and eyebrows, Lü Bei's Adam's apple bobbed. This time, he finally believed what his comrades had told him. After a long silence, Lü Bei quietly took a still-warm mess tin from his coat and set it beside the old man's face. "...The captain told me that this took more courage than facing a Deathclaw." "He also said that thanks to you, we were able to react immediately, otherwise the consequences would have been unthinkable." "He said our enemies were far stronger than Bloodhand, and defeating them is something to be proud of. We didn't just defeat our enemies—we defeated our past." "The captain said a lot of things, but I can't remember most of them. I just remember that the dough drop soup tasted pretty good, especially when scooped fresh from the pot. One mouthful, and your whole body felt warm..." "...I'm leaving it right here." Just as Lü Bei was about to stand up, he suddenly noticed the whistle clenched between the cracked lips. Remaining silent for a moment, Lü Bei reached out, gently tugged on the whistle held between the teeth, and freed it from the mouth. Finding a pocket without holes in his battered coat, he carefully tucked it away for safekeeping. "Thank you." "I'll take good care of it for you." Whispering the words, the youth pulled the cloth back over him, stood, gave a military salute, and walked away toward the guard quarters... *** Official Website: [Server Announcement: Emergency mission concluded. Thank you, everyone. You thwarted the marauders' surprise raid. The victory belongs to you!] [Server Announcement: All players who responded to the mobilization will receive a Bronze Gear Medal. The highest-scoring squad will receive a Silver Gear Medal.] [Battle rewards will be settled shortly. Happy holidays to all!] To the natives of the wasteland, the price of any victory was heavy. Yet to the players who did not belong to this world, it was ultimately just a game. Once they took off their helmets, they still had to finish uneaten dumplings, reheat cold takeout, and perhaps attend to unfinished work. Chu Guang pondered for a long time, ultimately deciding not to include his somber mood in the announcement. Today was New Year's Day. There would be a funeral once dawn broke. The battle report could wait until tomorrow. Matters beyond the main storyline could be written into the website's lore compendium or hidden as easter eggs in the game for players to uncover on their own. They had already done remarkably well. There was no need for that damn dev to interrogate their humanity. Forum: Scrambled Eggs with Tomatoes: "Brothers, what's the situation on the front line? Is the team fight done?" Old Bai: "Fought for nothing. By the time we rushed over from the outpost, the battle upfront was already over." Tail: "Tail charged first! MVP is definitely mine! (｀▽′)Ψ" WC Really Has Mosquitoes: "Don't even think about it, the MVP is definitely me. Yours truly wiped out four squads single-handedly! (Grin)" Tail: "!!!" Battlefield Hype Group: "Holy crap?!" Night Ten: "Holy crap! Did you turn on cheats?!" Lightning King Professor Yang: "Pardon my ignorance, but how many people are in four squads?" Kuang Feng: "Marauders usually operate in ten-man squads..." Lightning King Professor Yang: "Badass!" Jieyan: "Holy shit, that strong?!" Elaina: "Not bad, not bad. Goblin Technology is on the rise. (Doge)" Ya'er I Wanna Go to the Restroom: "Badass my ass! That cannon is ours! (Table flip)" Proud Grandpa What Can You Do: "Haha, is that all? Doesn't even add up to a company. In my uncle's regiment, even the weakest cook has around a hundred kills to his name. Just forty, not even rookie level." Elaina: "Brother, even though this is a black-market forum, you shouldn't be talking reckless like that. (Doge)" Night Ten: "Pardon my ignorance, is your uncle Haldim? (Doge)" *** The funeral for the fallen guards was held early the next morning. All the guards lined up at the north gate, fired three volleys into the sky, and then loaded the remains of the fallen onto a truck. In the wasteland, burying someone in the ground was equivalent to offering food to mutants; many mutants had the habit of digging for food and burrowing underground. Given a choice, almost no one would choose ground burial. The vast majority of the guards wished to go into that iron furnace, just like the blue coats who had once helped them. Others hoped to be cremated and have their ashes scattered over the lake, from atop tall ruins, or across the grounds where they had once fought and defended. No one knew their dying wishes better than their comrades-in-arms, and the living would carry out those remaining tasks for them. Chu Guang stayed at the funeral until the very end. Before leaving, he suddenly noticed a few players watching from a distance, staying until the end just as he had. Cut the Crap: "Say... when NPCs die in this game, they don't respawn?" Makka Pakka: "Pretty sure they don't. As I recall, the lore says once they're dead, they're gone for good, though others will take over their posts." Cut the Crap sighed. "Sigh..." Makka Pakka glanced at him. "What's up, bro? Getting all emo first thing in the morning?" Cut the Crap: "Nothing much... Just counted around and noticed someone's missing." Makka Pakka said in surprise, "Whoa, you can actually remember their faces?" He had face blindness. He couldn't remember many faces in real life, let alone in a game with filters. The only ones he could probably recall were Xiaoyu and Boss Xia, plus maybe Luka. Oh, right, and the esteemed Administrator. Then again, the Administrator didn't always show his face, so remembering his visage didn't mean much; that deep-blue power armor was far more iconic. Cut the Crap let out a sigh and said, "Nah, I only remember a few. Like that old man. Every rest day, he'd head to the lake to watch us fish. One look at his face and I knew he was one of us. Back then, I pitched my fishing rod to him and taught him how to catch leeches with a bottle..." Makka Pakka paused. "Wait... was there a hidden quest?" "Nope." Cut the Crap shook his head and sighed a third time. "Even though it was nothing important, it was pretty fun." "And thinking about how that fishing buddy won't ever come again... it really is kind of lonely, you know..."