Since Both Are Win-Win, Why Not Take Both?

Night fell. Since their boss had gone to negotiate business and hadn't returned yet, the caravan pitched camp in the clearing outside the outpost's south gate. Tempted by the aromas wafting from the outpost's north gate, two caravan guards slipped out of camp around dinnertime, hoping to buy some food with chips. However, what the two never expected was that when they swaggered up, pulled out their chips, and slapped them down on the table, they didn't receive the ingratiating flattery of these country bumpkins. Instead, it was... Disdain? The two froze for a moment. Could they have seen wrong? "Damn it, why is it these plastic pieces again?" His back turned to the customers, Zhang Hai grumbled under his breath. He raised a flour-dusted fist, rapped on the price board beside him, and said in broken Human Alliance language, "Chips. Ten." Ten chips?! The caravan guards' eyes went wide. For a moment, they thought their ears were playing tricks on them. Their daily wage was only ten chips! And that was when on active caravan duty. In Boulder City, five chips bought a decent meal, and in the surrounding survivor settlements, chips were worth even more—three chips were usually enough to leave one stuffed. Ten chips for a bowl of noodles was completely unheard of! "Ten chips?! Did you screw up your math or something?" "Damn it, isn't that a total rip-off?" "Are you picking on us just because we're from out of town?" Yet Zhang Hai remained completely indifferent to their complaints and protests, his expression not shifting in the slightest. Every player knew that those white plastic chips traded for silver coins at a rate of two to one. Was it not entirely reasonable to sell a five-silver bowl of ramen for ten chips? It was perfectly fair! He hadn't even charged them an exchange fee—he was already being more than generous. Of course, it was also largely because Zhang Hai couldn't understand a word of what they were saying. Otherwise, he definitely would have cursed right back. What a joke. When had he ever backed down in a trash-talking match? Nearby players were watching the spectacle, chatting curiously among themselves. "What are these two NPCs saying?" "Probably cussing out Boss Zhang for his extortionate ramen prices." "Hahaha, serves him right! Good on 'em! I've been wanting to chew him out forever!" "Wait, let me write down their insults first." "What are you noting that down for?" "To yell during battles! Otherwise, all you know how to shout is 'holy crap,' and the other side won't even understand you—they'll just think you're illiterate. Might as well learn the NPCs' dialect; shouting that sounds way more imposing!" "Holy crap! Bro, once you learn it, you've gotta teach me!" On someone else's turf, the two guards didn't dare cause trouble. Especially not with so many eyes watching. After muttering a few curses, the two moved on to other stalls. Yet to their dismay, it was the exact same story across the other stalls; the prices were all outrageously steep. Only after finally finding someone they could communicate with did they get to the bottom of the matter. "If you pay with chips, the price is double," Qiu Cao said, producing a silver coin and waving it before them. "Those blue coats trade with this kind of coin." Crouched beside her older sister, Qiu Ye nodded vigorously. "That's right! This is their real currency!" The two caravan guards exchanged a dumbfounded look. What kind of coin was this? Having traveled to so many places, this was the first time they had ever seen it. "I'll give you two chips—can you sell this silver coin to me?" the bearded caravan guard asked tentatively. Qiu Cao shook her head, politely declining. "We have no use for chips either." Qiu Ye nodded forcefully. "That's right! You should go find Xiaoyu to exchange them!" The two caravan guards were speechless. There was actually a place in the entirety of Qingquan City where chips didn't circulate? What a bizarre novelty! And who on earth was Xiaoyu? Nearby, Zhang Hai, who was boiling noodles, looked up just in time to see the two NPCs heading toward the edge of the market, and let out a scoff. "What backwater did these NPCs crawl out of? Why are they so broke?" Couldn't even afford a bowl of ramen. Fine if they didn't want to buy, but they had jabbered at him forever. Made him think there was some hidden quest. Sipping noodle soup from his bowl, Mole on the Run from the Canyon glanced at him and said, "You didn't catch the good days. Back during the 'Land Voyager' expansion when the Enterprise folks first showed up, those slips of paper they gave could be exchanged for a hundred silver coins." Zhang Hai clicked his tongue. "A hundred silver? Doesn't sound like that much." Elven King Fugui rolled his eyes. "Quit humblebragging. We're talking about silver coins from several versions ago—how can you compare? Back then, grinding all day only netted you ten silver!" Construction Site Youth and Brick sighed. "Ah, I miss the days when mushroom soup was five copper coins a bowl." Mole on the Run from the Canyon eyed him sideways. "Come off it. Back then, missing a single shot would make your heart ache for half a day. You sure you want to go back to the old versions?" Construction Site Youth and Brick scratched his head. "Uh, on second thought, never mind." Thinking about it that way, the new version really was more fun. Charging forward with a light machine gun rattling off rounds was just too thrilling. *** On the other side, after leaving the market, the two caravan guards who had snuck off slinked straight back to camp. They had originally intended to slip in while no one was looking, but as luck would have it, their captain was standing right at the camp's entrance. Their expressions instantly stiffened with embarrassment. But having already locked eyes, they couldn't pretend not to have seen him and could only bite the bullet and walk over. Fixing the two with his eerie cybernetic eye, Han Long said impassively, "Where did you two go?" The younger guard stammered, unable to form words, but the slightly older guard was quick on his feet and piped up at once. "Reporting, Captain! We went to gather intelligence!" Han Long regarded them. "What intelligence?" "Prices! We were checking local price levels!" the older guard said in a rapid flurry of words. "The cost of living here is insanely high—they're actually asking ten chips for a single bowl of noodles!" Catching on, the other guard hastily chimed in. "That's right! And they don't even use chips here; they trade with something called silver coins. It takes two chips just to buy one silver coin—it's way too expensive!" Two chips for one silver coin? Han Long's brows furrowed slightly. Now that was an interesting piece of information; he could pass it along to the boss later. However... Business was business, and discipline was discipline. Staring at the two with a blank face, Han Long said slowly, "According to caravan rules, leaving camp at night without permission results in a dock of one week's pay. A second offense means forfeiting all wages and expulsion from the caravan." "If I catch you violating discipline again, you should know what that entails." Under the gaze of that cybernetic eye, the two involuntarily shuddered, hurriedly bowed their heads, and muttered nervously: "Understood..." "We won't dare do it again." In Boulder City, finding decent work was far from easy. Ordinary caravans wouldn't recruit people of questionable origin off the street, let alone risk sabotage from competitors by hiring hands fired by another caravan. Expelled from the caravan without any specialized skills, they would usually have only two paths left. Either go to a factory to screw in bolts, earning barely enough to keep from starving until the day their bodies gave out and they died in some forgotten alleyway. Or become mercenaries, doing whatever employers ordered, trading their lives for chips. That threat carried serious weight! Looking crestfallen, the two walked into the camp. Han Long didn't spare them another glance, keeping his eyes turned toward the south gate. More than two hours had passed. The boss had yet to return. His brow knitted slightly. Just as he was wondering whether to send someone to ask about the boss, his cybernetic eye shifted slightly, locking onto the north. Soon, a familiar figure came into view. Watching his boss return from the north, Han Long finally breathed a sigh of relief and stepped forward to greet him. "Boss, you're finally back. I was just about to send someone to look for you." "No need to be so tense—I'm on great terms with the people here." His face practically beaming with excitement, Liszt looked at his capable assistant and continued, "Fetch Qian Duo and Qian Lai for me. I'll be waiting in my tent; I have important matters to brief them on." Though curious about what had transpired, Han Long didn't pry since his boss hadn't brought it up, nodding crisply. "Understood." *** Liszt did not have to wait long after returning to his tent. Before long, the tent flap lifted, and two men—one tall, one short—stepped inside. "Boss, you wanted to see us?" The tall one was Qian Duo, and the short one was Qian Lai. Both were Liszt's apprentices, having followed him since they were eleven or twelve, now seven or eight years into their service. Liszt had always groomed them as successors. Originally, he had planned to gradually hand the caravan business over to them by their tenth year, while he retired to Boulder City's inner city to live the high-society life of his dreams. Judging by how things looked now, however, that day might arrive ahead of schedule. "I just secured a shipment of goods from the blue coats: two hundred rifles and fifty thousand rounds of ammunition in total. In exchange, I intend to leave them twenty sets of KV-1 exoskeletons from our inventory." One exoskeleton for ten rifles? Hearing this, astonished looks immediately crossed both apprentices' faces. Qian Duo cautiously reminded him, "But... Boss, weren't you planning to transport those exoskeletons to Red River Town to trade with the slave traders there?" With the recent turmoil in River Valley Province, the slave traders in Red River Town had brought in a large influx of stock. The mines couldn't absorb so many, which drove slave prices way down. The slave masters of Red River Town needed exoskeletons to boost mining efficiency, as well as to improve their soldiers' combat prowess. According to intelligence gathered in taverns, a KV-1 exoskeleton powered by a solid-state hydrogen power source was said to fetch four to five able-bodied slaves. In Boulder City, KV-1 exoskeletons were nothing rare. Though Liszt usually sold them outside for 800 to 1,000 chips, his acquisition cost was only around 400 to 500 chips, and the actual manufacturing cost was barely over 300. The battery accounted for half that cost, the twelve motors mounted across the exoskeleton made up the other half, and the bamboo-like connecting rods were practically thrown in for free. Most people who bought a KV-1 exoskeleton had to modify it before it was usable. As for an assault rifle, the normal retail price was around 150 to 200 chips, with the actual production cost likely being a third or even a quarter of that. Trading one exoskeleton for ten rifles—rifles manufactured in an outside survivor settlement at that—made it hard to say whether the deal was a net gain or a loss. The crucial question was whether they could actually sell those rifles at their next stop. Yet compared to his two worried apprentices, Liszt looked brimming with confidence. "It doesn't matter. Red River Town is preparing for war against the Bone Chewer Tribe's Snake Clan. They don't just need exoskeletons; they also need vast quantities of weapons. Rifles and ammunition will fetch a handsome price there too. Most importantly, if we can break open that market, this trade route will become a gold mine!" "The second thing the blue coats promised me is that as long as we can sell their weapons in Red River Town and bring back the phosphate ore, sulfur ore, rare metals, aluminum, and other materials they need, they can supply us with even more goods... That alone means more than a hundred percent profit." "The reason I called you two over is precisely because of this." Pausing, Liszt looked at the two standing before him. "You've followed me for quite a while now, and I've watched you grow. Now it's time to put what you've learned into practice! Following my instructions, you will lead the caravan to Red River Town and, according to the manifest I give you, use our cargo to purchase those materials." Astonishment showed on their faces. Though they had imagined the boss would one day hand the caravan over to them, they hadn't expected the day to come so swiftly. Qian Lai asked hurriedly, "Then what about you, Boss?" Liszt smiled faintly. "Me? I naturally have far more important business to handle! I plan to open a factory here to produce solid-state hydrogen batteries and the motors needed to assemble exoskeletons." The two standing in the tent exchanged a bewildered glance. Open a factory? Here? And manufacturing solid-state hydrogen batteries and exoskeleton motors, no less? This... It sounded completely bizarre. While some prominent figures did set up simple operations outside Boulder City, whatever taxes and land rents they saved were usually lost in other ways. Outside Boulder City, there was no order to speak of. Not only did one have to hire hordes of guards, but hefty sums were also needed to persuade Boulder City's engineers and workers to leave the comforting safety of the Great Wall. Extreme caution was required for the manufactured goods as well; no insurance company would write policies for them. One had to guard not only against marauders looking to skim a profit, but also against malicious sabotage from competitors and sticky fingers among the wasteland laborers. In soil devoid of order, even seeds couldn't sprout, let alone a factory. Yet... Their boss was currently oozing confidence. Heaven knew what kind of potion he had swallowed. "Qian Duo, do as I just told you. Follow Han Long and the others to Red River Town and close this deal. You can concede a small margin of profit if necessary, but you must convince our client that this is a long-term arrangement! We will provide them with a steady stream of weapons; this business can continue indefinitely." "Qian Lai, you head back to Boulder City. Procure the relevant production equipment according to the list I give you—whether phased-out models or old stock tucked away at the back of a warehouse, as long as you can buy it, that'll do. Also, remember to recruit some engineers capable of operating that machinery. You should know where to look." Though harboring more than a few doubts, Qian Duo and Qian Lai nodded nonetheless. "Yes, Boss." Once everything was laid out, Liszt dismissed the two. Sitting down on his sleeping bag, he dug an electric kettle out of a nearby pack and brewed himself a cup of hot cocoa. This was a habit developed over years on the road. Drinking something sweet and warm helped him fall asleep faster. Cradling the cup in his hands for warmth and watching the rising steam, Liszt's face involuntarily broke into a proud grin. "I'm a goddamn genius!" This time, he was truly going to strike it rich! *** Earlier during their business discussions, the Administrator named Chu Guang had presented him with two proposals. The first proposal was to invest in a factory. Shelter 404 would provide the labor and could even extend him a loan of 100,000 silver coins. All he needed to do was bring over the production machinery, and operations could start immediately. Twenty percent of the manufactured goods would belong to the shelter, while the remaining eighty percent could be sold anywhere he pleased—whether exported to Boulder City or sold locally to workshops in the industrial zone. When he first heard that proposal, Liszt had been somewhat bewildered, and had asked right then: "If silver coins can't be directly converted into chips here, what's the point of me earning all that silver?" Chu Guang had patiently explained: "While silver coins cannot be directly exchanged for chips, you can use them to purchase whatever you want, take the goods back to Boulder City, and turn them into those plastic pieces you love... by which I mean those colorful chips." "Though rather than doing that, I would recommend setting your sights further ahead: use the silver coins to build houses, open an inn, run a tavern, or expand production." "By next month at the latest, a massive caravan will pass through here. I forgot to mention: because we lent a hand to the Enterprise's pioneers during the war, we are now a permanent strategic partner of the Enterprise. You're a merchant; you should know what that signifies. Any caravan coming from the East Coast will be far more inclined to stop here for rest. Imagine the treasures they'll be carrying—do you still think silver coins will be useless?" "Even putting agriculture and industry aside entirely, this place will soon boom from trade alone. Trust me, the silver coins in your pocket will never do you wrong; you'll use them to earn far more." As if worried that wasn't persuasive enough, after finishing those words, the Administrator had painted him an even grander pie in the sky. "Next year, we will plant at least 3,000 mu of Cam trees—thirty times the supply of Brown Farm!" "We will export half the raw materials and supply the other half to the local market, making industrial materials like rubber and alkanes extremely cheap here. Whether you sell them to Boulder City or process them into goods right on-site, it will make you a fortune." Upon hearing that, Liszt had immediately done the math in his head. Three thousand mu of Cam trees. If they really could plant that much, the rubber and biofuel produced here could cover at least thirteen percent of Boulder City's consumption. That was already a staggering proportion. Compared to such planting acreage, his plantation in the south and the handful of small neighboring survivor settlements were mere child's play. He had agreed to the Administrator's first proposal on the spot, as he could see virtually no downside to it. That confidence was bolstered even further once Chu Guang informed him that the blue coats' army had not only defeated a thousand-man unit from the Legion, but had also routed two thousand-man units dispatched by the Bone Chewer Tribe to the northern suburbs of Qingquan City at minimal cost! Black Snake's corpse hung right from the gallows at the north gate, making that claim remarkably easy to verify. For an emerging survivor settlement, such power was formidable! Even for the militia of Boulder City, dealing with that many marauders would have taken considerable time and casualties. They could guarantee the industrial zone's security, and they could provide labor and raw materials. Coupled with past transactions, the Administrator's credit was solid enough. Liszt felt he could certainly afford to take the leap. What was required of him wasn't overly difficult either: just take chips to purchase equipment, hire some unemployed engineers to operate the machinery and instruct the refugees—who had reportedly received some rudimentary education—to carry out production. This would probably run 100,000 or even 200,000 chips. More advanced equipment might be pricier, perhaps up to a million. While hardly a small sum for him, his credit standing was solid, and he owned two properties in Boulder City's inner city that could serve as collateral, making securing a bank loan fairly straightforward. The products he chose were the safest bet: Solid-state hydrogen batteries and exoskeleton motors. Even if the local market couldn't absorb them, they could be carted to Boulder City for sale, or assembled into simple exoskeletons of his own and shipped off to places like Red River Town to trade for slaves or raw materials. No matter how one looked at it, this business was guaranteed to bring monstrous profits. Rock solid! The second proposal was similar. However, it focused on sales cooperation, requiring him to put in some legwork to market the settlement's manufactured goods to distant places. For a traveling merchant, was that an obstacle? That was his bread and butter! How to choose? It took Liszt barely half a minute to make up his mind. Since both proposals were win-win... Why not take both?