Fuel Engine

Before midnight. The convoy finally arrived at Changjiu Farm. Players trickled back to the outpost or logged off at the nearest save point on the farm. Before logging off, quite a few experienced symptoms like fever, fatigue, and dizziness. Having read the guide posts on the forum, they immediately realized what was happening and hurried to find hibernation pods to lie down in. Near the save point, the air was filled with joyous energy. "Bro, you too?" "Hahaha, we all hit it together—what a coincidence!" "I don't ask for much. Just give me an SSSR when rolling for my talent!" "You call that not asking for much?!" "Devs bless me, I'm willing to curse everyone here to be single for life in exchange for an invincible talent!" "The dev says he heard you, and he's arranging a futanari talent for you right now." "Holy shit." The awakened players celebrated together, while those who were just short—or a billion light-years away—chomped bitterly on sour lemons, their faces plastered with envy, jealousy, and hatred. Although the talents hidden within their gene sequences were set in stone the moment they logged into the game, beyond even the developer's power to change, Chu Guang was still genuinely happy for them. At least ten had awakened in this battle. Maybe even twenty! Another major step toward assembling an Awakened company. Standing beside the warehouse at Changjiu Farm, Chu Guang watched the trucks laden with supplies and his thriving little players, an affectionate, fatherly smile spreading across his face. The young sprouts in the field had grown another notch. Wonderful. *** Players who had logged off carried news of the frontline to the forum, sharing the joy of victory with lifestyle players in the rear and prospective players still waiting in the queue. Along the way, they flexed with a few approved, cinematic-grade in-game screenshots. Meanwhile, Chu Guang finally received the battle report he had waited for all day. First was the interception battle at the highway intersection: 227 players had engaged four overstrength centuries under Black Snake's command, plus his logistics transport and artillery units, totaling 628 enemies. Player casualties stood at seventeen dead (including the critically wounded) and thirty-three wounded. A total of 371 marauders were killed and 257 captured. Those who escaped in the chaos were uncounted, estimated at only ten to twenty. The captives included one centurion and two staff officers. To Chu Guang's slight regret, Chiliarch Black Snake was killed during his escape, so the little players had failed to take him alive. Still, it hardly mattered. Capturing the staff officers served the same purpose. Anything that could be pried from Black Snake's mouth could just as easily be extracted from his staff officers. What they couldn't answer was almost certainly information they genuinely didn't know. Captives with interrogation value were temporarily detained at Changjiu Farm, while Chu Guang handed the rest over to Luka. Recently, he had planned a labor camp north of Ling Lake, tasked with clearing the wasteland there. Although that labor camp was currently an empty patch of ground, Chu Guang would provide the prisoners of war with a dozen or so felling axes so they could build their own cells by hand. Very humane. Escape? A creative thought; they were welcome to try. Aside from the captives, there were also 488 liberated slaves. Supposedly, there had originally been two thousand of them, but by winter only half remained, and now only this many were left. The vast majority were young and middle-aged laborers. Many were craftsmen like Wu Mu, the papermill manager—skilled in construction, forging, farming, animal husbandry, or basic medicine, or possessing arithmetic, literacy, and other practical talents. Most came from the central and northern River Valley Province, with some from other southern regions. Most had been captured when the marauders pillaged villages, having suffered both mental and physical torture throughout their journey. Chu Guang planned to temporarily house them in the refugee camp, having them attend literacy classes alongside the refugees to learn reading, arithmetic, and geometry. Only an educated workforce could become a high-quality workforce. These people would become the foundation of industrialization. Although this would put short-term pressure on food supplies, in the long run, this modest investment was entirely worth it. Besides, Chu Guang had just seized a batch of provisions from the marauders—roughly 84 tons of usable food by preliminary count, half of which was potatoes, thirty percent rice, and the rest various grains and cereals. In addition, there were 21 tons of nutrient paste, likely what the marauders used to feed their slaves, which could now serve as rations for the POWs. "...We captured a total of 25 trucks. Aside from grain, their cargo includes large quantities of cotton goods, raw cotton, and animal pelts." "In terms of weaponry, the marauders primarily used Legion standard-issue weapons, including 610 'Ripper' rifles, 50 Pu-9 submachine guns, 98 'Blade' assault rifles, plus a small number of pipe rifles and Decurion pistols." "As for ammunition, their trucks carried 60,000 rounds of 7mm ammo, along with a small quantity of other calibers. There are also 100 Panzerfaust rocket launchers, 150 100mm shells, and so on." As he reported, Wrench handed an inventory list to Chu Guang. Aside from weapons, food, and winter supplies, other goods were on the list. Such as gold. Such as various kinds of alcohol. These marauders had inherited not only the Legion's equipment, but also its penchant for gold and liquor. Skimming through the entire manifest, Chu Guang felt only one thing: These bastards were filthy rich—downright dripping with fat. Just how much of the Expeditionary Force's stockpile had the Bone Chewer tribe inherited? This equipment might fall short of outfitting a regiment, but arming a reinforced company or battalion was more than feasible. If every millennium unit was this fat... Putting down the list, Chu Guang sighed softly. "Thanks to the homie for delivering the package across thousands of miles. I'll make good use of it." Wrench blinked. Package? What was that? Still, this wasn't the first time he had heard unfamiliar words from the Administrator, so he wasn't too surprised. Wrench knew well that before the Administrator's ocean of knowledge, his own understanding was but a drop in the vast sea; not understanding was perfectly normal. "The Legion rifles are also 7mm, but the cartridge case lengths differ, so they aren't interchangeable... What a waste of those 60,000 rounds." Wrench nodded. "Indeed. But their Pu-9 submachine guns are good pieces. Even though they pack less punch than our Short Scythes, they handle much better." The Short Scythe was the LD-47c, the short-barreled variant of the Scythe assault rifle—essentially a 'submachine gun' built with an assault rifle receiver firing full-power cartridges. Compared to the Short Scythe, the Pu-9 submachine gun was primarily designed for urban combat and trench clearing, with engagement distances within fifty meters and rarely exceeding a hundred meters. At this range, a small-caliber, high-fire-rate submachine gun held a distinct advantage. Fitted with an extended magazine or drum, it could unleash bursts of firepower comparable to a machine gun in short order. Chu Guang picked one up from the truck bed and toyed with it for a moment, an interested expression in his eyes. The gun was very light, weighing less than three kilograms. Its shape somewhat resembled a Thompson submachine gun, but only in its angled foregrip; the internal mechanism was clearly different. Chu Guang slapped in a magazine and fired a burst at a nearby snowdrift. The fabric-tearing rip sounded crisp and pleasant, though the punch felt slightly lacking. "Very effective against ordinary gnawers or Detonators, but a bit lacking against Crawlers, and it probably can't breach a Tyrant's armor." "Decent enough against mutant cockroaches, rats, and hyenas. The high fire rate compensates for poor accuracy, and handling it at close range is effortless—suitable for lightly armored targets." "Still, using it on roaches probably wouldn't cover the cost of ammo." Chu Guang engaged the safety, set the gun back in the truck bed, and offered a fair assessment: "We can give these to newcomers." The newcomers mentioned here did not refer to fresh greenhorns just entering the game, but players between Level 2 and Level 5. Most had completed the 'Passing the Torch' quest, mastered basic combat or survival skills, graduated from their mentors, attained Citizen status in contribution, and saved enough money to purchase their User Interfaces. Under the economic system Chu Guang designed, players in this phase could complete their second gear upgrade within three to seven days, swapping pipe rifles or crossbows for modern firearms and experiencing the game's full content from then on. However, the LD-series weapons designed for the shelter's current developmental stage were actually not suitable for novices. Especially for the Intelligence-type: with an initial Intelligence attribute of 7, Strength was typically only 3. They might gain a point of Strength over the first ten levels and another upon Awakening, only steadily reaching 5 Strength—the average level of a normal adult—around Level 10. Without an exoskeleton or cybernetic limbs, handling an LD-47 assault rifle was quite challenging. For them, transitioning with weapons from other factions designed for ordinary people was a solid choice. After inspecting the weapons, Chu Guang walked straight to the rear of the convoy. An armored pickup was parked there. It was the only undamaged vehicle among the eight armored pickups; the others had suffered varying degrees of damage, needing repairs to run, or had been blown to pieces beyond repair. Chu Guang was curious about this vehicle, especially its power source. After popping the hood to inspect the engine, Chu Guang walked to the rear flank of the truck and found the fuel tank in the cargo bed. The thing was cleverly concealed: the cabin was in front, armored plates shielded the sides, and a protective cover sat on top, serving as the mount for a pintle machine gun. Unless attacked from dead astern or having its side armor penetrated directly, hitting the fuel tank was virtually impossible. Chu Guang opened the fuel cap, dipped his index finger inside, and brought it to his nose. The odor was faint, not very volatile, and the oil was viscous—somewhat like diesel. "A diesel engine?" Wrench blinked. "What's that...?" Chu Guang wiped his hands and said casually, "Nothing, just an engine that burns fuel. An antique, really." Relative to this world, fossil fuel engines truly were antiques. Civilian-grade solid-state hydrogen cells had become widespread during the Prosperity Era, and specialized equipment even used metallic hydrogen cells—completely breaking away from chemical energy in favor of cold fusion. No matter how advanced the manufacturing, fossil fuel engines had inherent bottlenecks. With continuous innovations in energy storage and power technologies, their obsolescence had only been a matter of time. Yet after civilization collapsed, many technologies that had been swept into the grave seemed to have been dug up once more. Looking at Wrench, Chu Guang continued, "Did you see any fuel on those trucks? Probably stored in barrels, containing liquid like what's in this tank." Wrench paused, thought carefully, and nodded. "I think so. But I assumed it was fuel oil for Molotov cocktails, so I logged it under raw materials. It should be on the list I handed you earlier." Chu Guang retrieved the list and checked. Sure enough, under raw materials, he found an entry for [Incendiary Agent]. The marauders had quite a stockpile: ten full 200-liter metal drums, plus several smaller 5-liter cans. This fuel wouldn't suffice for an entire fleet of trucks, but it was plenty to keep a few armored pickups running. Chu Guang frowned slightly. Food could be looted, but sustaining fuel solely through looting was unrealistic. After all, this was the wasteland. Survivor settlements with industrial capabilities were few and far between. Even if some produced alkane-based fuels, without unified production standards, compatibility would be a nightmare. "The Bone Chewer tribe likely controls an oil well of uncertain capacity and reserves, or some other specialized fuel production facility." "What's certain is that this fuel contains alkanes—it's definitely not cooking oil." "Could it be a petroleum crop?" Petroleum was not merely fuel; it was a crucial industrial feedstock. Currently, organic chemical raw materials in Qingquan City primarily came from Kham trees grown across various survivor settlements. The fruit of this tree yielded oil, while its sap was high-grade rubber. Common throughout the central regions of the Mid-Continent, the cultivation technique dated back to the pre-war era. Committing this intel to memory, Chu Guang pondered for a moment before looking at Wrench. "Send this fuel over to the outpost." It was best to have Yin Fang analyze the substance's composition to determine whether it was pumped from beneath the earth or produced through some biochemical process. As a former Grade-D prospector for the Academy, the man definitely knew far more about the wasteland than Chu Guang, who had arrived less than a year ago—and certainly more than Heya, fresh out of her hibernation pod, or Boss Xia, who was hopelessly superstitious about urban legends. Pinpointing the fuel's composition and production method would provide Chu Guang with a clearer operational picture of the Bone Chewer tribe. And it was bound to be far more reliable than anything extracted from prisoner interrogations. Most captives were illiterate, prone to embellishing their confessions with wild assumptions, yielding bizarre, distorted intel. It wasn't that they refused to confess; they simply didn't understand the science themselves. Chu Guang still remembered how that believer from the Church of the Torch had referred to the 'collar' that subjugated Deathclaws as a 'Miracle.' Wrench said earnestly, "Understood, my Lord. Should we send it over now?" Chu Guang thought about it. "Tomorrow morning. Better to be safe." Having noted the Administrator's orders, Wrench was about to leave to direct the guards unloading the cargo when something occurred to him. "Right, my Lord. Aside from that oil, there's cargo on another truck that we couldn't figure out despite studying it for ages. We asked the captives, but they couldn't explain it either, only saying it belonged to Master Black Snake." Chu Guang's heart stirred. "Take me to see it." "Right this way!" Wrench quickly led Chu Guang to the back of the truck. Two guards climbed into the bed and carried down a wooden crate. Chu Guang opened the crate and froze. This thing... Wasn't it the exact lump strapped around the neck of the Deathclaw he was keeping in the shed by the west gate?! Chu Guang asked immediately, "How many of these are there?" The guard replied, "We counted—37 in total." Delight spread across Chu Guang's face. Thirty-seven! Holy cow. It seemed the person who performed the surgeries had been captured earlier, and the marauders had no idea how to use these devices, so they had just dumped them in the truck bed. An epic buff for the Intelligence-type! Unlike previous times... This time, it was probably a real buff!