Annihilation! Captives! Spoils of War!

The sunset plunged into smoke and fire, staining the snow a tragic, beautiful crimson. Corpses carpeted the wilderness like the gateway to hell. It was already over. This could hardly be called a battle. It was more like a massacre! Stripped of armor's protection and without any reliable cover around them, Yu suddenly recalled the terror he had felt that day in the forest as the grim reaper's shrieks rained from above and charge whistles blew from every direction. His awakened strength offered him not the slightest sense of safety. He only wished he had sprouted two more legs so he could run faster—or simply grown wings to escape this terrifying nightmare altogether... *** On the northwest side of the battlefield. Under the cover of his trusted confidants, Black Snake abandoned his ride and finally fled into the forest. It proved to be the right decision. Light armor that had lost its mobility was nothing more than an iron coffin on the open snow. A few high-explosive shells had blown the gunner clinging to the mounted machine gun into bloody shreds, while the marauders using the armored pickup for cover were killed instantly, without even having time to scream. "Damn it... where did these people get so much gear?!" Panic crept into Black Snake's eyes. And what were those things that had just come flying at them?! Just how many cannons did they have?! Black Snake felt as if everything happening right now was a dream. A nightmare, no less! It was completely different from the intelligence he had gathered. Just over a month ago, these survivors hadn't even owned a decent vehicle. His armored pickups had helpless targets pinned down, unable to chase and unable to flee. Yet now, the tables were completely turned. Right then, Black Snake spotted in the distance his most loyal, fierce, and brutal centurion dropping his gun like a coward, groveling on the ground to beg the survivors for mercy. "Worthless trash!" Cursing through clenched teeth, Black Snake didn't dare slow his stride as he fled deeper into the woods. The survivors attacking them had already spotted his group. Pursuers closed in quickly, snapping at their heels without letting up. To cover his retreat, four of the six confidants who had fled into the woods with him had to stay behind to hold the line, leaving the remaining two to escort him northwest. Dense gunfire erupted behind them. Those four had likely engaged the enemy. However, the shooting ceased not long after it began. He had no idea whether those four brave fighters were dead or alive, or whether they had even slowed the pursuers down. Unable to worry about what lay behind, Black Snake kept running. Just then, he realized his staff officer was missing. He had no idea when the man had fallen behind. Panting heavily, Black Snake barked at the confidant beside him, "Where's Vides? Where did that guy go?" The henchman replied hurriedly, "I don't know! When we got out of the truck, he was right behind us, but as we ran he vanished. Maybe we got separated... Boss, don't worry about him for now, we have to break out first!" The other confidant added, "Yeah! Where there's life, there's hope! We'll settle this score sooner or later!" Although they had suffered a crushing defeat and lost all their assets, things weren't so dire that there was no room to maneuver. Black Snake still had six hundred-man units ahead of him, currently rushing toward his position. As long as he could rally his troops, he still had a chance to make a comeback. At worst, he would abandon Qingquan City, leave this hard bone for Lion Fang to choke on, and march east according to the original plan. He had heard there was a nice place out there called Red River Town, home to an obscenely lucrative mine and a paradise for slave masters. Leading six hundred men there would be more than enough to conquer it. As for today's grudge... There would be plenty of chances to settle it later! Suddenly, two sharp cracks of gunfire rang out from behind, breaking Black Snake's train of thought. The man running on his left grunted, lost his strength, and pitched forward onto the snow. The other confidant paled in shock. Knowing he couldn't outrun them, he stopped running altogether. Using a tree as thick as a man's embrace for cover, he raised his submachine gun, sprayed wildly behind him, and yelled at the top of his lungs, "Boss! Run!" "I'll cover you!" Running ahead, Black Snake felt a surge of emotion. Yet before he could even utter a word of farewell, he saw the man who had stayed behind catch a bullet straight through the head, collapsing backward into the snow. Black Snake knew he couldn't get away. Those people were ridiculously fast. No matter how far he ran, they caught up. Further ahead, the snow grew deeper, already reaching his thighs. Finding a relatively sturdy piece of cover, Black Snake caught his breath for two seconds and shouted behind him, "Friends over there!" "Aren't you going to think about yourselves?" "I've only got one worthless life left! I don't have anything on me! Even if you catch me, you won't get a damn thing!" "Why don't you look behind you? In those trucks of mine, there's treasure, fine liquor, and women! Everything you could ever want is back there! If you go too late, there won't be anything left!" All along the way from central River Valley Province to the south, he had destroyed at least ten survivor settlements, looting countless supplies and treasures. At that thought, Black Snake's heart bled. Half a year of hard work, only to lose everything before winter had even ended. Now he only regretted not listening to Vides's advice. If he had just been a little more cautious, how could it have come to this? The two players chasing him exchanged glances, utterly baffled, not understanding a single word. Elven King Fugui asked, "Uh... what is he saying?" Elaina said, "Hell if I know." "Fuck! Didn't you say you knew Human Alliance language?" Elaina smiled sheepishly. "Uh, I only know a few words... How about I try Hilichurlian?" "Man, you're useless." Elven King Fugui sighed and shook his head. Then, using the few vocabulary words he had picked up from NPCs, he shouted at the marauder leader hiding behind the tree: "Surrender!" "No kill!" "Refuse..." "Kill!!" Black Snake froze, not understanding at first. Once it clicked, pure fury erupted within him. "You want me to surrender? In your dreams! I'd rather die than be taken prisoner!" *Just the two of you think you can take me?!* With a roar, he raised his assault rifle and sprayed toward his rear. Bullets zipped through the trees, slamming into the trunk shielding Elaina and Elven King Fugui, sending wood splinters flying. Seizing the chance, Black Snake pulled his last smoke grenade and slammed it down outside his cover. As smoke billowed outward, he didn't waste a second. He emptied his magazine, tossed aside the rifle, and bolted deeper into the woods. However, to Black Snake's shock, the moment his lead foot cleared cover, several gunshots rang out from behind the smoke. The shooter completely ignored the smoke screen, sweeping fire straight at him. Struck multiple times in the back, Black Snake didn't even have time to scream before collapsing headfirst into the snow, bringing his wretched, sinful life to a sloppy end. When the smoke dispersed, Elven King Fugui walked over with his rifle raised and poked the man's cheek with his bayonet, finding him thoroughly dead. Elaina stepped out from behind cover, glanced at the marauder shot through the smoke, and said in shock, "Holy shit, bro, you got wallhacks?!" "Piss off, who the hell uses cheats in a console game? It's a talent, got it? Thermal vision! My eyes can pick up infrared. Tell me, isn't that badass?" Elaina looked at him with envy. "Badass, totally badass... Honestly though, that ability is basically a bug." Elven King Fugui chuckled smugly. "A little bit, yeah. Regular smoke doesn't do shit against me unless it blocks heat signatures." Or emitted heat itself. Just then, Brother Mole's voice called out from behind them. "Damn it, finally done! What about you guys? Catch up to him?" Tying up the prisoners back there had taken some time. By the time he caught up, the shooting ahead had already stopped. Elaina said, "Taken care of. Guy's lying on the ground. By the way, is this dude a centurion or a chiliarch?" Mole said with certainty, "Eighty percent chance he's the big boss." Elven King Fugui gave him a curious look. "How'd you guess that?" "Do you even need to guess?" Mole on the Run from the Canyon rolled his eyes and said as if it were obvious, "Look at how he ran. Who else has people staying behind to cover their ass?" Elven King Fugui paused. *Holy shit.* *That actually makes sense!* Mole walked over to check the body on the ground. "Fuck, he's dead." Elven King Fugui scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Uh, I was trying to aim for his legs, but the recoil on this damn rifle is ridiculous. The second shot climbed right into his back." "That's where you weren't thinking. Look at me, I just grabbed one of their submachine guns." Shaking the tape-wrapped Legion submachine gun in his hand, Elaina gave a cocky grin. "This thing works wonders at close range. Nine-millimeter pistol rounds, practically zero recoil. One burst can drop a whole crowd!" The Administrator had a soft spot for full-power cartridges. Whether it was assault rifles or light machine guns, the casings were fifty millimeters long, and the bolt-action rifles were even more absurd with seventy-millimeter casings! Perhaps it was survival experience from the wasteland—high-power rifles worked much better against mutants, whereas small-caliber, short-cased rifles couldn't even penetrate a Crawler's hide. Compared to a Type 95, where the entire round was only fifty-eight millimeters long and the casing was probably thirty-plus... What did that mean? In short, spraying with an LD-47 felt like firing a full-auto Kar98k. Aside from Strength-type players, hardly anyone could hold it down. In a way, this helped conserve ammo by leaving suppressive fire to dedicated gunners. Mole glanced at the submachine gun in Elaina's hands, his gaze lingering on the ruler-straight magazine for a moment. "That water gun of yours... works fine against people, but it probably won't do shit against mutants." Elaina laughed awkwardly. "Uh, fair enough." Not that it mattered. He could always carry two guns. Elven King Fugui peered down at the corpse and mumbled, "What now?" Chasing all this way only to come up empty. They had wanted to take him alive, but ended up shooting him dead. That instantly cut the war score in half—their chances at MVP were probably down the drain. Mole sighed, shaking his head. "Let's drag him back first." *** Meanwhile. The battle on the snowfield had drawn to a close. The marauders putting up stubborn resistance had all been neutralized, while those who threw down their weapons and surrendered were rounded up, herded into an open area, and made to squat with their hands on their heads. The frontline players had a sudden stroke of inspiration: they took the shackles off the slaves and slapped them onto the marauders. These things were iron, far sturdier than rope! To keep the slaves from running, the marauders had even weighted the shackles down. Yet all those clever designs were now being used on themselves. Most of the rescued slaves stared blankly, still unable to process what had just happened. A few had realized what was going on, but their faces remained numb as they stood in place. In most cases, wasteland slaves didn't gain their freedom just because their masters were killed. At best, they changed owners and carried on with their previous lives. Still, changing owners wasn't necessarily a bad thing. After all, being a slave to marauders meant working like a dog while also serving as emergency rations. Working for a survivor settlement meant at least having a shack to sleep in, without having to worry about getting your throat slit in the night and tossed into a cookpot. A week ago, there had been nearly a thousand of them. Now, barely four hundred remained. That alone showed how miserable their existence had been. The players didn't bother approaching them for conversation. Following the mission prompts on their VMs, they simply assigned a few hands to watch over them and prevent any mishaps. The guard team would arrive within the hour to take custody and relocate them to the refugee shelter. "Holy crap... We struck it rich!" Standing in the cargo bed of a captured light truck, Commander Spring lifted the canvas flap, stepped inside, and surveyed the crowded interior. Pure delight washed over his face. Potatoes! A whole truckload of potatoes! "This load has to be at least five or six tons!" These weren't mutated ram horn potatoes; they were genuine pre-war crops. Even if they weren't an improved strain, plain regular varieties were still more expensive than mutated crops like green wheat and ram horn potatoes. In settlements that were particular about food, the price could easily double or triple. Spring had learned all of this from the lore entries on the official website. Besides a truck packed full of potatoes, flax sacks were stacked in the corners, filled with grains like rice, wheat, and beans. Who would have thought these marauders ate such a balanced diet? Based on the NPC granary's latest food buyback rates, this truckload of supplies was worth at least five or six thousand silver coins. Buying it would cost even more. In an MMORPG shop, an extra zero between buy and sell prices was standard practice. *Wasteland OL* was similar. In the early days, the buy-to-sell ratio had been 1:10. After several rounds of inflation, it had gradually improved to 1:3 or 1:4—practically a beacon of industry conscience. According to the game's campaign reward system, these supplies would be converted into silver coins and deposited into the campaign prize pool, then distributed based on war score. It was somewhat like the heist payouts in GTA 5, though not entirely identical. Spring pressed his palms together with devout reverence. "Thank nature for its bountiful harvest!" Money was a secondary concern. With these supplies, the food crisis at the outpost base should be smoothly resolved. Hopefully the ramen at the North Gate market wouldn't go up in price again. "Eating" was one of the game's greatest joys, easily rivaling the thrill of exploration and combat. Higher levels required more energy, which naturally increased appetite—completely logical. In reality, he couldn't even finish a single bowl of noodles, but in the game, he could down two massive bowls without even burping. Feasting without worrying about weight gain, diabetes, or high uric acid, while trying foods he had never seen in real life and wouldn't dare touch otherwise, pushing his tastebuds to the limit... It was pure bliss! In a wooden crate deep in the cargo bed, there were also dried meats of indeterminate origin. Based on his experience, it probably wasn't anything good, so he promptly put the lid back on. Hopping down from the truck, Commander Spring moved on to check the next one. Just then, he caught the voices of several teammates. "Holy shit, this truck is stacked! Five, ten, fifteen... forty! Forty artillery shells! Damn, I didn't even see them fire a single shell, did you?" "What a waste on them!" "Hahaha, mine too! Damn, this haul is insane!" "Place your bets! I bet our payout for this mission tops five hundred!" "Hiss... you saying that makes me nervous." "Nervous about what? What's there to panic over?" "Aren't there only eight sets of that Miner exoskeleton left in the NPC shop? When we get back, they'll probably get wiped out instantly." "Holy shit?!" *Sweat!* These guys were already worrying about inflation on behalf of the developers. Still, hearing that the two-thousand-coin Miner exoskeletons were almost sold out gave Commander Spring a twinge of anxiety. God-tier gear was god-tier because it was rare! Back when nobody had guns, holding a pipe rifle made you a carry. Who still used those things now? Exoskeletons were the same. Right now, only he and Lao Bai had the Miner I on the entire server, so the flex factor was off the charts. Once everyone had one, god gear became baseline gear. Just when he had finally built an advantage, he'd have to start chasing the next version meta. Nearby, players were still taking inventory of the spoils, showing off and competing with one another, having the time of their lives. This was as fun as opening blind boxes. Before peeling back the canvas, no one knew what was inside. After opening it and scanning with the VM, you even earned two war score points. Over twenty trucks weren't even enough to go around; half of them were cleared in no time. "Ew, why is my truck full of shit?" Battlefield Atmosphere Group couldn't help but complain. Spring walked over curiously, took a look, and said speechlessly, "What shit? That's nutrient paste, isn't it? I heard the stuff made from cockroaches is black." Battlefield Atmosphere Group was horrified. "Holy fuck, people actually eat something that nasty?" "Fun fact: devil jelly is made the same way—" "Alright, stop talking." "Plus one, I'm gonna puke." "Hahaha, keep going and Boss Crow will be out of a job!" "Holy crap, you're all opening blind boxes?! Save one for me, let me check it out!" I'm the Darkest excitedly pulled back the canvas flap and hopped into the last light truck. But the moment he entered, a woman's scream came from inside. Everyone turned to look, only to see I'm the Darkest jumping back out, his face dark and awkward. "There are a few girls in there... Can someone go find some clothes?" Spring and Battlefield Atmosphere Group exchanged glances, and the surrounding players looked at each other in surprise. "Holy shit?" "Damn." "It's that realistic...?" "..." Anyone could guess with their toes what was going on in that truck. While it certainly matched what marauders would do, no one expected the developers to model this kind of content—and during closed beta, no less. Was this really something you could see for free? Of course, now wasn't the time for that. After thinking for a moment, Spring said, "I think I saw a truck earlier with padded cotton coats and some cotton fabric..." Battlefield Atmosphere Group immediately said, "I'll go with you." *** Meanwhile. At the border between the wasteland northeast of Changjiu Farm and the forest, two hundred players and over thirty NPC guards were advancing along the woodline toward the battlefield. Lacking vehicles, they had to travel on foot. Walking at the head of the formation with her rifle slung over her shoulder, Tail suddenly looked left and right, frowning. Noticing her expression, Sisi asked curiously, "What is it?" "Nothing," Tail shook her head, muttering, "Is it just Tail's imagination, or does this feel like a picnic?" Sisi: "No need to guess. It definitely is." Among these two hundred-plus players, many had joined in versions 0.8 and 0.9, averaging around Level 5, with only a few at Level 6 or 7, and some at Level 3 who had barely received their VMs. Putting aside whether anyone had military or related experience in real life—since this game attracted all sorts of people—in terms of level alone, the two of them were definitely high-tier players here. "Say, Sisi, by the time we get there, won't it already be over?" The sunset had faded. In a few more minutes, night would fall. Sisi: "Probably, but isn't that a good thing?" Tail turned around in shock. "Ehh?! Doesn't that mean we ran all this way for nothing?!" Sisi: "Look at it another way: if even the top players couldn't beat them, wouldn't we just be feeding if we showed up?" "Damn it, Tail's chance to shine is slipping away again—" "Not necessarily." Sisi suddenly narrowed her eyes, staring at the snow slope blanketing the distance. Visibility in the snow was poor, and the twilight offered little illumination. But with their backs to the sunset, they could still make out a fuzzy string of black dots on the distant ridge, moving rapidly in their direction. Almost at the same moment, Tail noticed the anomaly too. As an Agility-type, she could see farther; at this distance, it proved even more useful than Perception. "Ahead! So many people! One, two, three... Damn it, I can't count them all! At least a hundred!" Hearing the player's warning, Deputy Captain Liu Ding, who was leading the guard detachment, instantly raised his binoculars. Once he confirmed the situation ahead, his expression shifted slightly, and he barked an immediate order: "Enemy contact ahead!" "Suspected marauder deserters!" "Prepare for battle!"