Did You Empty Out Your Entire War Chest?

"Damn it! What do you mean 'I made it back alive'? Is it that weird for me to come back in one piece?!" Was that any way to talk to a comrade? Tearing off the gas mask hanging from his face, Indebted Big Eye stepped out from behind Brother Edge and slapped Ye Shi on the shoulder with a cheeky grin. "Whew, it wasn't easy, not easy at all. Several times I thought I was a goner for sure, but by some miracle I pulled through." Standing nearby, Construction Site Youth and Brick nodded in deep agreement. "It really wasn't easy." While everyone else was playing a game, their squad had been putting their lives on the line. A squad of ten had set out, but only half had returned. By contrast, the neighboring Mole Squad had also left with ten men and returned missing only two. With casualty rates as different as heaven and earth, it was hard not to roast them. Still, ribbing aside, no one took it to heart. It was a game, after all. Courting death was the norm. Unless you were a hardcore player, there was no need to insist on a deathless run. Besides, the death penalty wasn't nearly as punishing as it was in the beginning. Spending three days in forum jail was annoying, but the closed beta server had operated under that rule for so long that everyone was already used to it. The only real loss was the experience from a single battle; mission rewards, silver coins, and contribution points were granted in full. Teammates would conscientiously retrieve dropped gear, so at most, one lost a bit of ammunition and a few grenades. "By the way, why are you guys wearing this too?" Battlefield Atmosphere Group stared enviously at the grey greatcoat Brother Edge wore. Brother Edge remained silent, glancing toward Indebted Big Eye. The latter chuckled. "It was my idea. The old gear looked terrible and had zero distinctiveness—we looked more like marauders than the actual marauders and were constantly mistaken by friendly forces. So I had a flash of inspiration and got ourselves the same skin as Mole and his guys. Edge refused at first, but later he loved it." Edge Paddler stubbornly retorted, "Piss off! I only did it because you guys forced me." Construction Site Youth and Brick chimed in with a laugh. "Laugh all you want, but we gave those marauders serious psychological trauma. The second they see these coats, their morale drops a notch. Later, we recommended them to the new reinforcements, and now every brother in Red River Town wears this set!" Even during the most turbulent peaks of the Tide, Shelter 404's "support" for its neighbor had never ceased. According to the figures Brother Mole cited in his combat reports, the shelter's "garrison" in Red River Town had grown to fifty personnel. Aside from ten permanently stationed NPC guards, the rest were all players, and reinforcements were routinely rotated in to maintain that headcount. Clearly, this fierce, hard-hitting "Death Corps" had carved out a terrifying reputation throughout the Red River Town region. Those trench shovels and the gleaming bayonets fixed beneath rifle barrels had not only become an eternal nightmare for the marauders, but had elevated them to gods of war in the eyes of mercenaries and slaveholders! In particular, that "grey greatcoat" carried far more deterrence than the dark blue coats worn by Legion decurions! The local slaveholders and merchant guild wished the players would stay in Red River Town forever, even proactively providing the shelter with a fifty-mu compound. Though nothing could be grown on that plot of land, having a base meant establishing roots. The Administrator had deployed forty incubation pods there, seemingly intending to develop it into a forward military outpost. Presently, any player with the Soldier class who reached Lv8 and a firearm proficiency of Level 3 could apply to experience the new map and missions. However, slots were limited, and applicants still had to wait in line. Seeing the envious expression on Battlefield Bro, Canyon Escaped Mole said with high spirits: "Well? Pretty good design taste, wouldn't you say?" Battlefield Atmosphere Group muttered, "Damn it! He actually pulled off the flex!" Truth be told, he had previously suggested everyone adopt a unified "team uniform," but Commander Spring was far too stingy. Even after Lao Hei upvoted his proposal on the forum, that stingy bastard insisted on arguing that "skins without stat buffs are garbage" and "you can't see anything under armored exoskeletons anyway." To top it off, he even roasted him for being chuunibyou. Damn it all, what did that have to do with being chuunibyou? He was just cheap! Unlike Battlefield Bro, Ye Shi didn't care about their clothing. Instead, his gaze drifted curiously toward the trucks behind them. No need to ask. They had to be packed with spoils hauled back from Red River Town. By a conservative estimate of three times overload capacity, the assorted ores piled on those trucks weighed at least fifty to sixty tons. Furthermore, nearly a hundred slaves had accompanied them back, drawing envious glances from nearby NPC itinerant traders. A single slave could fetch five assault rifles. Talk about striking it rich! Ye Shi said enviously, "Is the fighting over in Red River Town?" Canyon Escaped Mole shook his head. "Over? Far from it!" "The slaveholders there have pathetic combat strength. They hired plenty of mercenaries, and the individuals aren't bad fighters, but in a real battle they're just a rabble with zero coordination." "Relying on imported artillery shells and weapons, the Red River Town coalition had a fairly smooth start and won several localized skirmishes, but their logistics are utter garbage. Their ammunition constantly mismatches their guns, their firepower is always sporadic, and with such poor organization, they can't hold any high ground they capture. Time and again, we'd seize a hill during the day only for them to lose it that same night." "On top of that, the Bone Chewer tribe has overwhelming numbers, bringing a steady stream of reinforcements from the central province. Plenty of marauders even came flocking in from the eastern neighboring province after hearing rumors that they plan to establish a marauder empire. In short, both sides are using Deer Head Mountain as the border, endlessly contesting the same few peaks and grinding it out across a front more than ten kilometers deep." Support weapons like mortars and anti-tank rifles were not exclusive to Shelter 404; several medium-to-large survivor settlements possessing industrial capacity could manufacture them as well, differing only in cost and performance. Red River Town did not import ammunition solely from Shelter 404. Setting aside the dizzying variety of weapons the mercenaries brought, the locals themselves fielded medium mortars in three distinct calibers—80mm, 85mm, and 88mm—alongside two 105mm cast-iron siege mortars. With inconsistent logistics and fractured command, it was an ordeal in itself for those wealthy local bosses to have held out against the marauders for this long. Ye Shi asked, puzzled, "Then why did you guys come back?" Canyon Escaped Mole rolled his eyes. "To join the event, obviously! Seeing you guys talk about the Tide all day on the forums makes me feel like we're not even playing the same game!" Back when the new map first launched, he had been thrilled to secure access. After all, being the first to taste the crab was an opportunity not everyone received. Though Red River Town was a bit farther than Boulder City, as long as he could bring first-hand intelligence to the players, it was well worth it! Yet now, a month had passed, and the new map was hardly new anymore. Players had grown tired of reading his battle reports, and even armchair players had flocked to discussing the Tide. A ten-thousand-word guide barely scraped together three-digit upvotes, leaving him feeling like an "abandoned relic of the patch." Hearing that this "Decisive Battle Project" was the final event before the conclusion of Alpha testing, there was no way he was going to miss it! Elaina chimed in as well. "We've stayed in the new map long enough; it's time to rotate other players in to grind." Elven King Fugui said with a grin, "Old Na holds a massive grudge against the mutants there. Not a single arthropod isn't venomous." Elaina protested immediately, "Screw off! Am I that petty?" Ignoring the two, Brother Mole turned back to Ye Shi. "What about you? Why aren't you with Lao Bai and Fang Chang today?" Ye Shi smiled and said, "Aren't we having a major operation first thing tomorrow morning? We split up this afternoon. Lao Bai and the others went to Goblin Technology to buy gear—heard there's new equipment available. I originally planned to tag along, but word got around that an orange-tier item appeared at the trading post, so I ran over to hunt for a bargain... Came up empty, though. Pisses me right off!" The orange item naturally referred to the "Miner Type I" exoskeleton. That piece of gear was an import from Ideal City, powered by a "metallic hydrogen" battery that was a tier above "solid-state hydrogen." Ever since the official store sold out last time, Shelter 404 had never restocked it. Only caravans arriving from the east occasionally carried them; even in neighboring Boulder City, they were exceedingly rare. Yesterday, a roaming merchant caravan spawned at the trading post and happened to bring a unit. A minor Strength-type player stumbled upon it, bought it without hesitation, and bragged on the forum that very night. As a result, a massive crowd of players rushed over first thing in the morning to scour the grounds. Although exoskeletons sold by wild NPCs were slightly more expensive, they had no contribution point or level requirements, nor did they restrict secondary trading, making them extraordinarily appealing. In short: buying one was pure profit! Yet what piqued Mole's interest most was not the exoskeleton, but the first part of Ye Shi's words. "Mosquito rolled out new gear?" "Yeah, Brother Mosquito was bragging in the chat group yesterday," Ye Shi chuckled. "No lie, that guy is getting more and more criminal by the day. First it was the recoilless rifle, and now he's even cobbled together an RPG!" The moment those words left his mouth, not only Mole and Edge's crew, but even Battlefield Atmosphere Group standing nearby whipped their heads around in shock. "An RPG?" "???" "Holy crap?!" Now that really was crossing into criminal territory! ... In truth, Lao Bai's group was not the only party shopping at Goblin Technology at this moment; Commander Spring, regarded by Battlefield Bro as the ultimate cheapskate, was present as well. Following the Street 65 blocking action, Commander Spring had deeply analyzed the causes of their failure. Setting aside scripted deaths, while Crawlers outflanking them during the Tide's fourth wave was one factor, their defeat owed far more to insufficient anti-armor capability. Before the blocking action commenced, he had anticipated that the developers might introduce over-armored boss units, and had therefore instructed players armed with Lances and Heavy Lances not to pack purely high-explosive ammunition, but to bring two clips of armor-piercing rounds as well. Yet he never imagined the developers would be so ruthless. Even 37mm armor-piercing rounds failed to pierce the Decayed Knight's armor! Had their frontline not been shattered by heavily armored tank units like the Decayed Knight, Squad B and Squad C could have held out considerably longer. Since power armor could be subverted into friendly units by the slime mold, he had every reason to believe they would face even more absurd monstrosities in the future. What surprised him, however, was that he had originally come merely to purchase recoilless rifles, only to discover that Mosquito had actually produced a street-fighting holy grail like the RPG-7! At the firing range on the perimeter of the industrial zone. Staring at the 400mm steel plate pierced through by a shaped-charge warhead, Commander Spring's eyes were wide as saucers. It took him a long while to squeeze out a bewildered remark. "...Do you really sell furniture in real life?" Standing nearby, Mosquito chuckled. "Ancestral craft, purely handmade. What, boss, looking to order a set? Send me a PM on the forum." Commander Spring: "...Never mind." He had a distinct feeling that revealing his real-world address to this guy was a terrifyingly dangerous proposition. Who knew if clicking through an order with his mouse would end up delivering a pair of silver handcuffs to his doorstep? That would be a colossal mess. Beside him, Lao Bai lowered the smoking launch tube, his expression equally filled with astonishment and praise. "This punch has serious kick!" Though this propellant... smelled like Shuangshi-2? Quite different from the diethylene glycol in an RPG-7. The piezoelectric fuze could be considered a modern modification, and the muzzle velocity was noticeably faster than that crude recoilless rifle from before. The accompanying shaped-charge warhead carried over its raw power: a needle-shaped probe was embedded in the tip of the conical warhead. As long as it made contact, its vertical penetration could exceed 400mm! That level of firepower was already remarkably formidable! Then Lao Bai suddenly realized something. What kind of RPG knockoff was this?! This was clearly a copy of their domestic Type 69 40mm rocket launcher! Failing to notice the peculiar look in Lao Bai's eyes, WC Really Has Mosquitoes continued with exuberant enthusiasm: "Beyond the 85mm HEAT round, we also offer an 85mm high-explosive fragmentation rocket for area damage! Only 200 silver coins! Buy five rockets and get a launch tube free! Unbelievably practical!" At 200 silver coins, it was significantly pricier than an Iron Fist. Yet for Lao Bai and his squad, it was by no means unaffordable. Before every battle, the shelter allocated a munitions procurement budget to each squad based on their combat rating. Ammunition purchased within that budget did not cost players a single copper out of pocket. For prolonged engagements, resupplies delivered alongside rear reinforcements were likewise provided free of charge. The expenditure of the ammunition budget merely affected the post-battle evaluation score—an established tradition dating back several versions. "...You really are getting more and more criminal," Lao Bai praised with a wry tone. Hearing that loaded compliment, WC Really Has Mosquitoes grinned. "You kidding? When have weapons designed by yours truly ever disappointed?" "Just give it to me in one word: convinced or not?!" At those words, everyone's expressions turned subtle. To claim his gear was useless would be lying through their teeth. Yet to call it thoroughly dependable... well, at times it failed spectacularly. Lao Bai subtly averted his eyes. "Half-convinced." Kuang Feng nodded. "+1. Half-convinced." Fang Chang: "I need to deliberate on the other half. Mostly afraid you'll get cocky." Commander Spring: "Couldn't agree more." WC Really Has Mosquitoes spat, "Damn it! I asked for one word, and you give me a whole essay!" Lao Bai patted Mosquito on the shoulder with a chuckle. "Brother, your gear hasn't been tested in real combat yet, so I can't talk too big! How about this: give me a fifty-percent discount, and I'll take ten HEAT and ten HE rockets right now to help build your brand!" WC Really Has Mosquitoes rolled his eyes. "Fifty percent?! You might as well ask me to give them to you for free!" Fang Chang's eyes lit up. "Wait, there's a deal like that?" WC Really Has Mosquitoes snapped, "Piss off! Ten percent off at most, not a penny less! Any cheaper and I'll be selling at a loss!" At that, he was greeted by at least four pairs of rolling eyes. "Like hell anyone believes that!" Fang Chang would rather drop dead than believe this guy only turned a 20-silver profit on a 200-silver rocket. A conservative estimate put his profit margin at 50%! Since the Alpha 1.0 update, silver coins had indeed inflated noticeably. However, because trade routes to Red River Town were open, the prices of metals and non-metal raw materials had not risen much. With the expansion of the industrial zone's infrastructure and increased capacity, manufactured industrial goods had barely risen in price. Ultimately, after intense haggling, both sides reached a consensus: 180 silver coins per HEAT rocket, and 130 silver coins per HE rocket. The Ox and Horse Squad purchased twenty-five rockets in total, and Spring's squad bought fifteen, cleaning out Mosquito's entire stock and maximizing their firepower output! With prices settled, the group returned to Goblin Technology's workshop, where freshly manufactured munitions were stored in the warehouse. Entering the factory, Commander Spring glanced around and suddenly noticed a pile of wooden boards stacked near the entrance. He asked curiously, "What is that thing?" Seeing someone take note of his masterpiece, Mosquito beamed. "The W-1 'Mosquito' glider! Built with a wooden airframe and an innovative electric powertrain—a flawless fusion of primitive timber and cutting-edge solid-state hydrogen tech! The proudest creation of me and my apprentices, priced at just 3,000 silver coins! How about it? Dirt cheap, right? Care to buy one?" Nearby, Quan Jia, who was tinkering with an electric motor holding a screwdriver, happened to overhear this and couldn't resist turning around to roast him. "Have you no shame? I designed the airframe, Duo Ming designed the engine, Zhui Hun hand-carved the propeller blades, and Sha Shen built the bomb release mechanism. What the hell did you do?" If not for the generous pay, he would have struck out on his own long ago! Mosquito remained completely unfazed, smiling shamelessly. "I pooled your strengths to compensate for your weaknesses. That's called resource integration." Quan Jia: "@#$%!" Fang Chang walked closer out of curiosity and inspected the pile of lumber. Taking a closer look, there really were two wings and a flat structure that was presumably the lower fuselage. Still, using wood for structural components and having parts so fragmented and flimsy... wouldn't it disintegrate the moment it flew into the sky? "...W-1 is fine and all, but why didn't you call it the WC-1?" Mosquito gave a bashful grin. "I actually planned to name it that at first, but my apprentices have zero artistic sense. They complained that sitting in it made them feel like taking a dump, so I dropped the C." Lao Bai: "Pfft..." Kuang Feng: "I can never look at this plane the same way again." Commander Spring's expression turned rather conflicted. "Am I the only one wondering if this thing can even get airborne?" A wooden airframe paired with a solid-state hydrogen battery. He had never seen such a bizarre combination. Kuang Feng rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Analyzing rationally, hydrogen has nearly three times the energy density of gasoline. While compressed gas tanks certainly wouldn't work, solid-state hydrogen... theoretically, it should be possible under ideal conditions." "It's a game! Show a little imagination, don't be so rigid!" Patting Kuang Feng on the shoulder, Mosquito said with a confident smile, "Brother, trust me! I guarantee it flies! If it doesn't get off the ground, no charge!" Kuang Feng cast him a sideways glance. "Don't try to egg me on. I'm not piloting it." Lao Bai stared at the motor for a moment, frowning. "What about a runway? Even if it can fly... it needs a runway to take off, right?" Mosquito smiled faintly. "An epoch-making aircraft like this naturally doesn't rely on a conventional runway." Commander Spring had already deduced something, swallowing hard. "Don't tell me..." "Skyscrapers! There are thousand-meter skyscrapers everywhere here!" Mosquito strode over to the pile of wooden components and fished out an uninstalled aluminum flight stick. The fanatical gleam in his eyes caused everyone around him to take an instinctive step back. Completely oblivious to their expressions, Mosquito's voice grew increasingly thrilled. "According to my calculations, you don't even need a thousand meters—eight hundred is plenty!" "Cut the throttle, dive downward, and at two hundred meters above the ground, pull up the stick and flip the power switch—you will transform into a streak of lightning!" Fang Chang's Adam's apple bobbed. "...And if you fail to pull up?" Mosquito simply repeated the exact same phrase: "You will transform into a streak of lightning!" Lao Bai: "?" Kuang Feng: "??" Fang Chang: "???" Commander Spring: "...???" Just a quick question: Was that gear any sane person would ever choose?! ... Dusk. Silence descended over Qingquan City as corpse drivers clad in hazmat suits carried stretchers piled with dead bodies, gradually withdrawing from the battlefield. Not far from them on the frontline positions, eager figures carrying rifles arrived one after another from the rear. Among them were the battle-hardened Death Corps in grey greatcoats, the Mountain Corps recalled from Yuanxi Town in green coats, and ragtag teams boasting distinctive personal flairs and eclectic gear... yet no one dared question their combat prowess. No matter what equipment they carried, they were unquestionably the elite of the elite. Through days of relentless warfare and constant respawns, they had already distilled combat doctrines best suited to themselves, passing these invaluable experiences—walkthroughs, rather—down to the newcomers they mentored. Every single one of them was a banner in their own right! "Did you empty out your entire war chest?" Standing beside the building's window, Vannus looked down at the battlefield below in astonishment. With the killing intent radiating from that sea of rifles and banners, even the Legion's youth army standing before them would hardly surpass this spectacle! Standing beside him in power armor, Chu Guang merely said calmly: "This is just the start." Daytime was their true home turf. According to the plan he had personally drafted, the players would hold the defensive line in rotations until dawn, and when the final assault wave before sunrise began to wane, they would launch a full-scale counteroffensive against the Tide! They would not grant those vermin a single breath of respite! Starting yesterday, the industrial zone had temporarily suspended all export orders, funneling every ounce of production capacity to the front line. Crates and bundles of ammunition were delivered to frontline magazines, alongside two 100 kW wood-fired generator sets and two hundred newly manufactured hibernation pods deployed below the temporary command post, allowing players to save their progress and log off to rest. Equipment was stretched thin. Each player's clone was allotted only four hours of rest, though that was plenty of time to clear the fatigue status. Players who signed up for the event had already taken leave in real life in advance. Those who couldn't attend didn't matter either; Wasteland OL was a casual MMORPG with no grind and no pay-to-win, never forcing players to participate in server events. At most, it offered irresistible event rewards. Watching the last rays of sunset fade over the streets, Chu Guang felt his blood boiling. This would be the largest battle in Wasteland OL since launch, featuring the highest participant count, the grandest scale, and the greatest variety and volume of deployed equipment! Two Hummingbird drones had already been deployed to the edges of the battlefield, their cameras locked onto the spore-cloud-choked war zone. "Come on." Chu Guang lightly clenched his fist and exhaled the stale air in his chest. "Let me see what you've really got!" ... The shadows of towering buildings gradually dissolved into the pockmarked alleys. A bloody crimson glimmered faintly through the grey-green smog, accompanied by a bone-chilling grinding of teeth that made one's knees go weak. Yet no one wavered. Tempered by days of relentless warfare, even most of the four hundred rookies who entered the game in Alpha 1.1 had matured into qualified soldiers. To them, victory was the sole creed. Death was of no consequence! Amidst chattering banter laced with excitement, players across the frontline positions flipped off their rifles' safeties with practiced ease and settled behind breastworks of concrete rubble. "All hands in position! Five minutes remaining!" "...Repeating: rookies in the squad, heads up! Let the machine gunners open fire first! Steady your rifles, and don't shoot until the Tide closes to fifty meters!" "Remember! You aren't greenhorns anymore—stop using those peashooters in your hands to pick a Tyrant's teeth! Trust your teammates and the Lances in their hands! Save your ammo for where it counts!" "They're coming—prepare for battle!" A shrill, piercing howl echoed through the dense fog. Running gnawers surged from the darkness like a tidal wave, charging across the wreckage-strewn battlefield toward the players' positions. At the same time, three flares rose into the sky, banishing the gloom over the streets. The machine guns mounted inside the buildings roared first, bullets whistling through the grey-green mist to form a dense curtain of iron and fire. Immediately after, water-cooled Maxims stationed at the very front spat tongues of flame, mowing down the mutant horde rushing forward like a tsunami. The players fired with practiced efficiency, squads coordinating seamlessly to purge the mutants in their assigned sectors. The first wave of charges was nothing more than cannon fodder. They were already intimately familiar with the mutants' playbook: First, expend their ammunition with swarms of gnawers, then send in high-HP and high-mobility units to punch through the defense line. On the roof of the skyscraper above the temporary command post. Braving the howling winds on the terrace, Mosquito and his four apprentices were assembling the W-1 "Mosquito" glider. Since it was an experimental model, after an hour of debate, he had finally convinced his four apprentices to add an "X" after the W. The aircraft was equipped with two 100 kg aerial bombs, their yield matching the British 250 lb aerial bomb, with an operational weight that was virtually identical. Additionally, two 7mm small-caliber machine guns were mounted in the fuselage. Although Quan Jia had initially suggested mounting a 20mm autocannon directly, Mosquito rejected the idea after careful consideration. A 20mm autocannon and its ammunition were too heavy! With that weight budget, he would rather carry two more bombs! What's more, that autocannon was a competitor's product. This was Goblin Technology's moment to shine; how could he let a rival steal the spotlight? "Hurry it up!" Holding binoculars, Mosquito peered down at the barely visible battlefield while shouting urges at his apprentices. Quan Jia couldn't help but look up and grumble: "Damn it! Why don't you come help?!" Mosquito glared at him. "I'm the pilot! I already said I'm flying this thing, what else do you want me to do? Want to switch places?!" Quan Jia shuddered and muttered curses under his breath, falling silent. It wasn't a fear of heights. He just had no confidence in the craft. Even though he had participated in the design, the difference between a fixed-wing craft and a quadcopter was astronomical. He had zero certainty this thing could actually fly. What if? What if the propeller snapped or the wings tore apart? Wouldn't he be offering himself up as a sacrifice right on the spot?! Mosquito didn't care about losing face, but Quan Jia still had some dignity to maintain. "Why do I feel like something's off?" Mosquito, standing at the edge of the roof, suddenly spoke up. "What? What's off?" Squinting against the blustery wind, Duo Ming looked up. Holding the binoculars steady, Mosquito frowned and muttered: "The gunfire has been going on way too long!" The first wave hasn't ended yet? By all rights, it should have been over by now! He had a bad feeling. With that damn game planner's personality, things would never follow a predictable script. As a veteran player who had been in the server since the early versions, he was well acquainted with Ah Guang's fickle narrative style. Just as the uneasy feeling crept over him, a conspicuous crimson light flared within the grey-green fog. The mortar positions that had been holding fire for the next wave suddenly discharged. Over a dozen shells whistled into the sky, detonating in bursts of flame around that crimson light. Gunfire beneath the skyscraper grew increasingly fierce, and muffled roars of pain resonated from within the dense fog... Watching the spore cloud blasted apart by shockwaves, and seeing the silhouette of the monster emerging from the mist, Mosquito gripped his binoculars tightly, unable to keep from blurting out some choice local slang: "Holy shit?!" "What the fuck is that thing?!"