The Snake Has Crawled Out of Its Nest!

"I always thought that in FPS games, I was just an unfeeling killing machine, and in RPGs, just a quest grinder who loved rummaging through every chest and cupboard." "Until this morning, when I noticed a familiar figure was missing from the guard team." "I never knew that guard's name, only that he was probably the oldest man in the unit." "Like any other nameless NPC, he led a very routine life. His daily work consisted of just three things: training, standing guard, and patrolling. Aside from that, he had one day off every week—usually Thursday or Sunday—and whenever that day came, he would go sit by the lake and watch us fish to pass the time." "Not to brag, but as a veteran angler, I can tell at a glance whether someone is cut out for fishing. Very few people can endure going an entire day without catching a single thing, yet he would sit beside us, watching us draw blank hooks all afternoon." "So I troubled Mosquito to craft a fishing rod for me—warning him not to add any useless extra features—and then gave it to the old man." "The old man was thrilled. He thanked me over and over again and even tried to give me silver coins. When I refused to take them, he gave me a dagger the next day. At first, I thought it was a quest item and got pretty excited, but later I realized it wasn't; it was just an ordinary gift. Even so, that unique feeling was genuinely delightful." "Later, I taught him how to cast, how to chum the water, and how to make a simple trap out of a bottle to catch young leeches for bait. Sometimes we sold the fish at the warehouse or the market, and sometimes we roasted them to eat." "I was like Robinson Crusoe, knowing a little bit of everything, while he was like Friday—not the sharpest, but eager to learn and endlessly curious about everything about us." "Occasionally, I would vent to him, grumbling about frustrations in real life, and he would share bits about himself—maybe about adventures, maybe about things he hoped to do in the future, or something else entirely." "Even though neither of us understood a word the other was saying, surprisingly, it never got in the way of our communication. From him, I even learned quite a few interesting words, even if to this day I still don't know what some of them mean." "However... everything came to an abrupt halt early this morning." "Solemn-faced guards stood in a line by the north gate of Changjiu Farm and fired three volleys into the sky. I watched a young boy carry his body onto a truck, saw them send him off for cremation, and then watched as they brought his ashes to the lakeshore, scattering half along the bank and half into the water." "Perhaps that was his dying wish." "At that moment, I suddenly felt that those NPCs were all flesh-and-blood people, not just cold lines of code." "I never imagined that one day I would become friends with a character in a game, nor did I ever think I'd feel this sorrow over an unexpected parting." "For a brief second, I wished it had been me who died that night." "Dedicated to an angling buddy who won't be coming back." "Even if I never learned his name in the end, I will remember his story—even if I'm the only one who does." The post was long. The thread stretched on and on. Chu Guang had rarely seen Cut the Crap create posts on the forum before, only catching glimpses of his replies here and there. Yet this time, he had written so much. Even in the follow-up replies, he recounted memories of the old man from the perspective of a friend, sharing little anecdotes that happened while fishing. Though these were not grand, earth-shaking epics—just unadorned, mundane moments—the words felt thoroughly alive. Makka Pakka: "*Hugs the angler...*" Tail: "Mm." Sisi: "I'm sorry we couldn't save your friend." WC Really Has Mosquitoes: "It hurts. If only NPCs could respawn too." Kuang Feng: "Yeah. But looking at it from another angle, maybe it's precisely because NPCs have only one life that this game's world feels so extraordinarily real. What we create isn't just a string of meaningless numbers, but something endowed with a soul." Ye Shi: "Sigh, I know, but my chest still aches..." Lao Bai: "This game is always too realistic in the most unnecessary places." Fang Chang: "Just like this elusive thing called life." Tengteng: "Sigh..." Yaya: "Mm, my heart goes out to you." Chu Guang read to the very end and remained silent for a long time. He typed out numerous words in the reply box, only to hit backspace and erase them all. He repeated this over and over. In the end, only a single sentence remained. Guang: "His name was Jixiang." ... The next day, the morning sun rose as usual. Though many people would never return, life had to go on. For those living in the wasteland, death was the norm. Anyone lacking inner fortitude had already perished two centuries ago; survival to this day was impossible with a fragile mindset. The guard team's training proceeded as scheduled. Thirty new faces had joined, heading to Changjiu Farm to undergo instruction. The vast majority of them hailed from the refugee camp, and all had enlisted voluntarily. Perhaps they had been inspired by those valiant deeds, or perhaps that piping-hot roasted meat had simply made them feel they had found a place of belonging on this wasteland. They had no desire to return to a wandering life. With nowhere left to run, they resolved to take up arms and defend the order and peace here with their own hands. At the entrance of the sanatorium. A plump, oversized rat squeezed through the doorway, facing the snowfield bathed in morning sunlight and stretching lazily. "Holy shit! I'm finally back to life!" That was the only advantage of being a rat-man. While others needed three days to revive, he only had to spectate for one day before logging back on. Having also just logged in, Elven King Fugui walked out of the sanatorium. He cast a surprised glance at the fellow and asked curiously, "When did you die?" Qiangren Suonan replied, "When else could it be? That night! I didn't even have a fucking gun, but the fighting reached right under my nose, so I had to bite the bullet and charge in." At this, Qiangren Suonan sighed. "Ugh, just thinking about it pisses me off. Goddammit, I just spotted a rifle and was rushing over to pick it up when a mutant hyena jumped me." Elven King Fugui said, "Oh, wow..." A mutant hyena. That was pretty much the most common monster in the wasteland, wasn't it? Though slightly stronger than a gnawer, it wasn't by much. Because of their keen sense of smell and decent night vision, plenty of marauders liked keeping them; they were essentially mutants that even beginners could handle easily. If someone couldn't even beat a hyena, his usual advice was to delete the account and start over. Still... Didn't hyenas belong to the suborder Feliformia? Bloodline suppression did make some sense, then. The cat ears atop her head twitched faintly as Aoao Zhimahu looked at the fat rat with an expression full of sympathy. "That's just too tragic..." Truth be told, she felt a bit ashamed. She hadn't even noticed when he had died. On the other side of the square, Tail, carrying a rifle on her shoulder, was likewise stepping out of the sanatorium. However, compared to her boundless drive yesterday, her expression looked somewhat deflated. Seeing right through her thoughts, Sisi comforted her, "Relax, Tail, you worked hard. It's regrettable, but there wasn't anything we could do. If you want to blame anyone, blame that dog developer for overtuning the difficulty." "Mm, I'm okay. I just feel... if only I were a bit stronger... But speaking of which, saying stuff like that inside the game—aren't you scared the developer will target you?" Rumors ran rampant on the forums: never mock the developers in the game or on the forum, or at best you'd be cursed with atrocious drop rates, and at worst you'd drop dead on the spot. Even if it sounded like superstition, sometimes one couldn't help but believe. Sisi immediately lowered her head, pressed her palms together, and repented earnestly. "My apologies, Lord Developer, I was wrong! Please forgive an outspoken maiden for uttering reckless words without thinking!" "Eek!" Tail stared at her in astonishment. "You cave in way too fast!" Right then, the two of them happened to pass the guard post of the outpost. Tail instinctively glanced that way, then suddenly halted her steps. Sisi stopped as well and shot her an inquiring look. "What is it?" "Look over there." Tail pointed toward the guard post. Sisi followed the direction of her finger and saw that beside the bulletin board, a new wall had appeared at some point. *Was that built yesterday?* A look of surprise crossed Sisi's face. She hadn't noticed it at all earlier. Nails were driven into the wall, each hung with an iron tag. "What's hanging on the wall?" "Mm... there are twenty-five in total. The writing on them is probably names? Dog tags or something, I guess." So it was a memorial wall. The design carried quite the wasteland flavor. *Could this count as an Easter egg from the dev team?* Sisi suddenly noticed that Tail's mood seemed a bit better than before. "Let's go, Sisi!" Her spirit restored, Tail declared with full enthusiasm, "There's no time to waste if we want to break into the top tier early! The folks at the outpost are still counting on Tail to protect them!" A smile tugged at Sisi's lips. *As expected.* A lively, bouncing Tail was definitely cuter. Though she doubted the folks around here were actually counting on the two of them to help. "Yeah!" "We'd better give it our all if we want to snatch MVP next time!" ... North of Yumu District. An abandoned small town sat on the edge of the forest. Not even the howling north wind could disperse the scent of blood settled over it. Over a hundred survivor households had once lived here, leading a life largely cut off from the outside world. Yet just a month ago, a band of marauders had arrived, thoroughly transforming this secluded hamlet into a living hell. Some had broken under torture, slaughtered and hung upon the walls, while a small fraction survived, reduced to their slaves. Those marauders had seized their homes, pillaged the provisions meant to see them through the winter, and converted their dwellings into strongpoints. Wooden barricades were erected across the streets and in window frames, while trenches and crude earthworks were dug out. This was not typical marauder behavior. Even with slaves at their disposal, few among them understood how to dig trenches and foxholes, let alone where to place them. Constructing field fortifications was a nuanced discipline—a skill that marauders accustomed to small-scale harassment, swarming forward, and scattering in an instant had no ordinary use for. All of this was thanks to their advisor, a man named Bernie. As a former chiliarch of the Legion, his understanding and application of light infantry tactics had reached near perfection. After all, no one who survived the brutal bombardments of the Great Rift Valley was an ordinary figure. It wasn't merely the fortifications. The defense deployments from inside out, as well as the patrol routes, had all been personally drafted by this advisor. It was precisely because of this that when Yang Er, caked in snow, stumbled out of the woods, he was instantly spotted by marauder sentries patrolling with hounds. "Don't shoot!" "Don't shoot! I'm on your side!" Seeing the two marauder sentries aim at him, Yang Er hurriedly dropped the gun in his hands onto the snow and threw his arms into the air. "One of us?" The lead marauder kept his gun raised, eyeing him up and down with deep suspicion. "Whose command are you under? Who's your leader?" Without even pausing to catch his breath, Yang Er blurted out, "Gray Wolf! I'm a scout under Gray Wolf... Please take me to see the Lord Chiliarch! I have urgent news to report!" The two marauders exchanged glances. Deciding he didn't appear to be lying, they escorted him to the checkpoint on the outskirts of town, searched him thoroughly, and dispatched someone to inform the chiliarch. Upon receiving word, the chiliarch agreed to grant him an audience. Shortly after, Yang Er was ushered in. The moment he entered the room and saw the man seated in the chair, he dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead firmly against the floorboards, trembling too hard to utter a word. Slouching lazily in his seat, Lion Fang looked down at him and spoke in a slow, measured drawl. "You lost?" Yang Er swallowed hard and kept his head lowered. "Yes, my lord." Seated beside Lion Fang, Bernie looked at the scout and said, "Tell me what happened the night before last." Not daring to hide anything, Yang Er immediately whispered, "...After completing all preparations, we launched a surprise attack on Changjiu Farm under Gray Wolf's orders. But the survivors put up far stiffer resistance than we anticipated. We took their outer wall at one point, but soon more and more reinforcements arrived. In the end, we were hopelessly outnumbered." Yang Er recounted the events in detail. He described their fierce firefight at the north gate, the rubber tracks on the local survivors' trucks, and that terrifyingly powerful 'rapid-fire gun.' "A quadruple antiaircraft autocannon, firing high-explosive shells..." Bernie, who had listened intently to the scout's report beside Lion Fang, fell into prolonged thought before speaking with a grim expression. "These survivors will not be easy to deal with." Mounting rubber tracks on trucks was a move he hadn't foreseen in the slightest. What puzzled him even more was where these people had managed to procure so much rubber. Lion Fang's expression remained indifferent. After all, he had never expected Gray Wolf to take that survivor stronghold in the first place. Gazing at the kneeling scout, he continued, "Where is Gray Wolf?" His forehead glued to the floor, Yang Er said tremulously, "I don't know... Gray Wolf, he said he was staying behind to cover the retreat." *Cover the retreat?* That remark successfully amused Lion Fang. What a polite way to put it. No matter. The man was just a useless pawn anyway. Using the lives of a few outsiders to probe the strength of the survivors in Qingquan City's northern outskirts was a decent trade. Furthermore, it would provoke that cunning snake into making a move first. It could be called killing two birds with one stone—no, three birds. "Get out." Hearing those two words, Yang Er felt as if a mountain had been lifted from his shoulders. A wave of relief washed over him, completely unaware that his back was already soaked in cold sweat. "Thank you, my lord!" Not daring to linger a second longer, he scrambled to his feet and backed out of the room. The door closed. Lion Fang turned to the advisor beside him and remarked offhandedly, "I didn't expect them to be wiped out entirely." Bernie cast him an odd look. "I thought you did that on purpose." Lion Fang shook his head gently. "You misunderstand. I never intended for him to die out there; I merely wanted to use the opportunity to rein in that unruly fellow. Who would have guessed he'd be so stubborn as to lose all hundred and fifty men and throw his own life away on top of it?" Bernie asked, "Then what about the flare gun you gave him?" Lion Fang chuckled. "That was for Black Snake to see, of course." Bernie fell silent for a moment. For some reason, he suddenly thought of General Klaas, whose fate remained unknown, and that grand expedition that had ultimately ended in utter ruin. Perhaps they, too, were discarded pawns. Who could say? Those important figures never told them everything, merely instructing them on what to do next. Even now. He still couldn't understand why his superior had chosen to join a bunch of natives. The people of the Great Rift Valley hadn't wiped them out completely; it wasn't as if they had no chance of returning home. "If Gray Wolf was captured, he will tell those people everything about us. That's not good news." Lion Fang gave a faint smile. "I know, but what does it matter? We are far stronger than they are. Even if both sides have laid their cards on the table, the odds remain heavily in our favor. Now, there is only one suspense left: how long they can hold out against Black Snake's assault. We must pick the perfect moment to enter the battlefield—not too early, and not too late... What do you think, my friend?" Bernie pondered for a moment, then shook his head. "I don't know, but it won't be easy for Black Snake to win." Lion Fang scoffed dismissively. "Just because of some autocannon?" Bernie continued, "It's not a matter of a single piece of equipment. Those survivors in the northern outskirts clearly possess industrial capabilities and have spent the entire winter preparing for this war. Meanwhile, our intel is extremely limited, and we know nothing about their logistical situation. If this war drags on, it won't bode well for us." On the other hand, if they could capture that survivor settlement, the profits would be enormous. A settlement with industrial capacity was far wealthier than those agrarian communities. In the previous strongholds they had raided, the warehouses held little more than ram horn potatoes and green wheat. If they could seize Qingquan City's northern outskirts, their chances of conquering Boulder City would rise considerably as well. Lion Fang stroked his chin. "Then how do you propose we end this war as quickly as possible?" Bernie replied, "Coordinating with our allies in the southern outskirts of TS City is the best option." "Out of the question," Lion Fang waved a hand, cutting him off. "I know that fellow too well. He will never cooperate with us." Bernie let out a bitter smile. Noticing the advisor's expression, Lion Fang chuckled and offered a word of reassurance. "Don't worry. That tough bone might be slightly harder to chew, but only slightly. Whether in equipment or numbers, we hold the absolute advantage. We could drown them in spit alone." "As long as our allies make their move and pin down their main force, I will immediately march out with the boys, strike their flank out of nowhere, and wipe them out in one stroke alongside our allies!" "Don't you think this plan is brilliant?" Furthermore, he could detach a portion of his force to seize their stronghold ahead of Black Snake. When that greedy, sly bastard saw Lion Fang's banner fluttering over Changjiu Farm, his lungs would surely burst with rage. At the thought, a delighted smirk spread across Lion Fang's face. Looking at the overly optimistic chiliarch, Bernie let out a quiet sigh in his heart. "You are right." "Perhaps it is a fine plan." *If only everything truly goes as smoothly as planned.* It was a full twenty kilometers from here to Changjiu Farm, and twenty kilometers of snowy terrain was no easy trek. With forests and ruins along the way, their ranks would be stretched thin, draining a tremendous amount of stamina. Assuming Black Snake truly fell for their open scheme and launched a lightning assault before winter ended, those twenty kilometers of snow would likely become the greatest variable of the battle. Could they truly descend like divine warriors upon the enemy's flank at the height of the clash? It was hardly as simple as drawing arrows on a map. Just then, footsteps sounded outside, and a marauder strode into the room. The man's face beamed with excitement. Dropping to one knee, he announced in a thrilled voice, "My lord!" "That snake has finally crawled out of its nest!"