To the Alpha Version About to End!

After examining it for a while, Chu Guang finally figured out what this pillar-like terminal before him was actually used for. Simply put, it served as the gateway for players to project their consciousness into this world. It was the equivalent of a *Wasteland OL* server. The three thousand available gene sequences stored inside could be understood as three thousand "game activation codes." Once a player logged into the game, a mirror of their consciousness was cached on this "server." As for the incubation pods, beyond providing information services to the players, they acted more like relay nodes. The helmet, the player's physical body in reality, the server, the incubation pod, and the clone together formed a "field," linked by an invisible "string." The medium of transmission was neither electromagnetic waves nor optical signals; in fact, the transmission method itself might be some technology far beyond Chu Guang's understanding. And this was precisely why cutting power to an incubation pod caused a player to disconnect, and why each consciousness could control only a single clone. Of course, this was merely Chu Guang's conjecture. The first-generation manager had never explained the technical principles of these devices, nor had he ever explained how he had managed to deliver the helmets into the players' hands in the first place. "Three thousand game 'activation codes'... Surely more can be unlocked down the road? It can't be that the entire server holds only this much." Chu Guang swiped his index finger across the touch screen, muttering thoughtfully to himself. It wasn't that he was greedy. He simply found it hard to believe that someone would go to such great lengths to deliver helmets to players and establish strong consciousness links between players and their clones just to roll out a few thousand gene sequences. He didn't buy it. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the pale blue holographic screen. Chu Guang's gaze settled on the four black boxes. He had the activation codes. Now he was only missing the game accounts. In all likelihood, the answer lay right there. And just as Chu Guang had anticipated, the largest of the black boxes— Was used to fabricate incubation pods! *** "According to the instruction manual, load eleven materials in sequence—iron ingots, aluminum ingots, graphite, and so forth—then add 100 liters of water. Please ensure an uninterrupted power supply, and keep the black box in a well-ventilated area." The Floor B3 warehouse. Beside a black cube spanning twenty square meters. Under Yin Fang's direction, three warehouse workers followed a simple, straightforward procedure to feed materials into the black box. Although the graphic tutorial was foolproof enough for anyone to follow, making Yin Fang's presence technically unnecessary, Chu Guang felt better having an expert on hand. The black box emitted a faint hum. After a brief wait, two brand-new incubation pods rolled out simultaneously along the discharge conveyor belt, coming to rest quietly on the warehouse floor. Witnessing this, the three natives wore stunned expressions, as if they had just witnessed an astonishing miracle. What had gone in were merely stacks of metal ingots. What came out were... well, they had no idea what these two iron contraptions were used for, but that didn't stop them from marveling at the transformation! It was incredible! More magical than conjuring tricks! At the thought, the three stole a glance at Chu Guang, their respectful expressions tinged with a reverence akin to gazing upon a god. As expected of the Administrator! They didn't understand it at all, but they were deeply shaken. Yin Fang's face similarly brimmed with keen interest. He naturally knew what black boxes were, but that didn't stop him from being curious about what this particular one produced. The Academy's black boxes either manufactured exoskeletons, drones, laser rifles, or small gadgets with obvious, singular functions. Yet the black boxes here were different. Before coming to Qingquan City, he had never seen so many black boxes with such "bizarre functions." Like these two iron boxes before them. Stepping forward, Yin Fang patted and inspected the two incubation pods from left to right. After studying them for quite a while, he still couldn't fathom what on earth they were for. "Incredible... Just how many black boxes do you people have?! And what are these iron boxes anyway? Coffins?" Chu Guang didn't answer. For one, he didn't know the exact internal workings either; for another, it wasn't convenient to explain. He glanced at the time on his VM and quietly calculated the production speed of the incubation pods, his heart sinking slightly. *Maximum daily capacity is 40 units. Counting thirty days in a month... that's at most 1,200 players released per month.* As for the cost, it gave Chu Guang a dull headache between his brows. This black box came with its own fusion battery, so electricity costs could be ignored for now—after all, that couldn't easily be quantified anyway. But the material cost alone was an astounding 2,000 silver coins! Equivalent to the cost of three hibernation pods! Steel and aluminum were cheap, and copper was reasonably fine; supplies of those were stable. However, metals like nickel, molybdenum, and other rare metals were nowhere near as cheap. If running at full capacity, that would add 80,000 silver coins in daily expenditures, totaling 2,400,000 silver coins a month! Then again, looking at it from another angle, a single two-headed ox cost three to four thousand, even four to five thousand silver coins. A player costing two thousand silver coins was far more capable than an ox. A cheap, compliant android cost at least ten thousand chips, yet the value a player could create vastly exceeded that of an android. Was 2,000 silver coins expensive? Not in the slightest. As for an added monthly expenditure of 2.4 million... At first glance, it seemed like a lot. In fact, it truly was a lot, but it wasn't a major problem! First, unlike other government spending, this fiscal expenditure wasn't poured directly into the market, so it wouldn't directly trigger inflation. Second, as long as Chu Guang could find ways to secure a steady stream of external resources and boost the shelter's revenue, plugging this hole would be quite easy—provided industrial raw material prices didn't fluctuate wildly. Even if they genuinely ran out of money, that was fine too. Worst-case scenario, he could shut down the production line for a while and resume once funds were available. *To summon more players, Shelter 404 must strengthen its regional influence and military presence in Red River Town!* *When the time is right, we can consider incorporating Red River Town as the New Alliance's second Restoration Zone!* Currently, the shelter maintained a military outpost in Red River Town. Initially, it had just been a way to give players something to do while earning some extra cash on the side, but it had turned into an unexpected boon. "...Still, now that we have to manufacture incubation pods ourselves, the distribution model for Phase B closed beta slots will need a slight adjustment." Looking at the two incubation pods in the warehouse, Chu Guang pondered in silence. For instance, instead of dropping a massive batch of accounts all at once, he could release 40 accounts daily per version cycle. The current version's 3,000 accounts would be distributed until depleted; whenever he secured more activation codes, he would launch the next round. The player count was gradually growing, having already reached four digits. Maintaining a steady two-digit daily increase suited the shelter's current needs far better than an explosive surge. It was just like population growth: gaining too much at once was a burden, forcing everyone into ruthless rat races. But having no growth at all wouldn't do either—if nobody hustled, who would pay to fuel the boss's car? Someone had to do the entry-level jobs. Beginner quests paying under 10 silver coins offered poor returns to veteran players, but to new players, they were practically a feast. The players' work efficiency was three times that of ordinary natives, if not higher. Even slaves were let out to breathe when they got tired, but the players only had eyes for progress bars! Most importantly, the newbies were adorable. Chu Guang loved them to death. Seeing that Chu Guang had no intention of answering, Yin Fang made a helpless face, gave up pressing about the incubation pods' purpose, and moved on to examine the other three black boxes. The second black box was identical to the one previously discovered in the Floor B3 warehouse. It was used to manufacture hibernation pods, with a daily capacity of 20 to 24 units. It was inexpensive to build and cheap to maintain, and could be used to scan and record whole-body somatic cell DNA expression profiles. Black boxes were not one-of-a-kind; functional overlap was not uncommon. A player could only possess one incubation pod, but a hibernation pod could serve multiple players in different time slots. Respawn points were suited for rear deployment, but save points could be set up right at the front lines, even placed directly beside an ammunition depot. Chu Guang was quite pleased to see the hibernation pod production capacity doubled. In the future, players' demand for hibernation pods would definitely far exceed their demand for incubation pods. These things could replace sleeping bags, becoming essential gear for players at home and on the road. Once there were enough save points, Chu Guang would consider allowing players with citizen-level contribution points or higher to purchase hibernation pods. The money earned could conveniently subsidize the production of incubation pods. The products of the first two black boxes were both related to players, but the third black box was slightly different, having virtually nothing to do with player clones. Yet its value was not in the least inferior to the first two. Not only did Yin Fang click his tongue in excitement, but even Chu Guang wore an expression of surprise. "Type X-4 polymer fiber!" Yin Fang said, his face dripping with envy, unable to hold back. "Damn it... you people have way too much good stuff!" Type X-4 polymer fiber! Grade-B technology! Feeding wood, water, and massive amounts of electricity into the black box yielded a steady supply of Type X-4 polymer fiber, with carbon dioxide and potentially methane as byproducts! Type X-4 fiber had an extraordinarily wide range of uses. It could serve as static-free barrier fabric for chemical defense suits, or be crushed to replace standard fibers in producing smokeless powder, increasing explosive velocity! This Type X-4 smokeless powder was particularly suited as propellant for artillery shells, rockets, or bullets! Previously, the outpost had managed to obtain a stash of Type X-4 fiber from a carbon dioxide capture unit with the help of the *Pioneer*, but with the march of industrialization, it had long since been nearly depleted. Now that they had acquired indigenous manufacturing capability, the firepower of LD-47 series weapons and the light and heavy cavalry carbines produced by No. 81 Steel Mill would undoubtedly level up once again! And it was a permanent, stable upgrade! Chu Guang glanced at the envious Yin Fang and asked with keen interest, "The Academy can't manufacture X-4 fiber?" "The yield is low, the intermediate process is convoluted, and it's expensive!" Offering a three-part verdict, Yin Fang's gaze grew reminiscent as he continued, "...I remember having to save up two months' salary back then just to buy a protective suit tailored with Type X-4 fiber fabric." For a Rank-D prospector to have to save two months' salary, it had to be quite pricey. Chu Guang recalled Yin Fang mentioning before that Rank-D was the highest rank a prospector could reach in the Academy, granting the authority to lead an independent expedition team on archaeological digs. Though Rank-D prospectors didn't hold high administrative rank or security clearance, their income was slightly higher than that of Rank-C researchers in non-core labs. Furthermore, because they frequently handled firsthand materials, their promotion speed and opportunities were considerably faster than researchers of the same tier. Of course, none of that had anything to do with Yin Fang anymore. Earlier, Yin Fang had missed the Academy quite a bit. But ever since he watched Dr. Principle's video recording and Chu Guang appointed him dean of the Academy's Branch 404, he hadn't been nearly as homesick. Why conduct digs for someone else when you could order others around on digs? Here, he wasn't just the undisputed boss of the "scientific expedition team," but he also never had to take the fall for incompetent superiors. It was simply too sweet! Yin Fang then turned to the final black box, which was also the smallest of the four. Its length and width were comparable to an adult's upper arm and forearm, respectively, and its thickness was merely the width of a palm. This was the smallest one Shelter 404 had recovered to date, even smaller than the one brought back from Shelter 117. It was truly the size of a briefcase! And what it produced was exceptionally unique. Following the foolproof graphic instructions printed on the black box, the workers fed in 100 grams of graphite, 10 liters of water, a pinch of iron filings, and other trace materials in sequence. After about an hour, a syringe with a capacity of roughly 10 milliliters was slowly fed out from the discharge port. A pale yellow solution sloshed inside the syringe. Yin Fang held it in his hand, scrutinizing it for a moment, and asked curiously, "What is this?" "Induced expression serum..." Reading the fine print on the black box in a low voice, Chu Guang's eyes instantly flashed with pleasant surprise. He had already guessed its rough purpose. However, its specific clinical effects would require further evaluation by a professional. "I'll leave the serum to Heya for research... That's her field of expertise, and she should find it very interesting." With that, Chu Guang turned back to the three warehouse workers standing nearby and instructed, "From this moment on, you three are in charge of production for these four black boxes. I'll assign more hands to you; you can decide how to allocate them among yourselves. I have only one requirement: ensure three rotating shifts and keep the machines running twenty-four hours a day!" Seeing the Administrator entrust them with such a vital task, the three felt overwhelmed by the honor, their faces turning solemnly determined in unison. "Rest assured, my Lord!" "I swear on my life to complete the mission you've assigned!" "Me too!" Looking at the loyal trio, Chu Guang gave an approving nod. "I trust you." Operating a black box required little education. Even a mutant could understand the foolproof instructions on a black box, to say nothing of workers who had undergone literacy training. Though these end-of-the-world production units were sophisticated, they were far from delicate; breaking them took genuine effort. Moreover, the natives permitted inside the shelter were without exception loyal individuals "recognized by the VM." Add to that the cameras covering every corner of the shelter and Xiao Qi reporting any irregularity to him immediately, and safety was practically guaranteed. *** "...Dear listeners, I am your beloved Mr. House! Today, the West Third Ring is calm and peaceful, with a temperature of thirteen degrees. A light drizzle has freshened the air considerably, and we have every reason to believe the air will be even better ahead—the Tide, the gray fog, and that rotting stench will come to a complete end before the month is out!" "Let us cheer for the respected City Lord, for the Militia Commander, and for General Zhao Yongxu and his valiant militiamen fighting on the front lines! Thanks to them taking down one broodmother after another, Boulder City can enjoy such peace and quiet today." "I can't recall whether the tally is fifty-one or fifty-four; in any case, it is very, very many. Counting the eliminated alien species and evolved variants, their triumphs are simply too numerous to reckon! Praise be to the City Lord!" "There is no breaking news today; nothing of note has occurred across the southern River Valley Province... But since you've all been clamoring to hear about the north, I suppose I can spare a few words." "Thanks to our aircraft, those bumpkins up there narrowly escaped disaster. Yet they seem to believe it was entirely their own doing and are currently celebrating victory." "Our observers reported seeing them smearing blood on windows and doorways, getting blood all over their homes... Truly a boorish bunch!" "If you ever must head north, you'd best steer well clear of them!" The raspy crackle of static and that slick, patronizing voice performed in isolation inside the empty reception room. Outside the reception room, however, the outpost was ablaze with lanterns, banners, and bustling celebration. A grand festival was underway. That little radio announcer far away in Boulder City had guessed barely a fifth of it. The people here were not merely celebrating a hard-won victory. They were also celebrating the dawn of a magnificent era. From the plaza before the sanatorium to the commercial street by the north gate, a dense sea of people gathered. Survivors from the northern suburbs flocked in from all directions as if on a pilgrimage. Some came merely to catch a glimpse of the Administrator in person, while others, hearing that a major announcement would be made tonight, had smartly arrived early to claim spots near the front. Beside local survivors, scavengers from nearby small and mid-sized settlements had gathered to join the excitement, as well as traveling merchants and mercenaries from more distant lands. Sun Shiqi was squeezed among the crowd as well. Gazing out at the vast sea of people, his eyes went wide with astonishment, practically popping from their sockets. The northern suburbs had never seen so many people. Never had so many gathered in one place. He still remembered his last visit here, when this place had been too desolate to even qualify as a tiny village. Never mind the guards maintaining order in uniform attire—back then, they couldn't even scrape together a few pipe rifles and had to purchase those revolver-style pea shooters from Red River Town! Back then, Sun Shiqi had briefly suspected that these blue coats were just drifters pretending to be vault dwellers after usurping someone else's nest! "Simply unbelievable..." Squeezed to the point of suffocation, Sun Shiqi muttered excitedly under his breath. What a colossal market! "Yeah, truly unbelievable." A familiar voice sounded from the side. Sun Shiqi glanced over and unexpectedly spotted an acquaintance in the crowd. "You're here too?" Standing behind her brother, Shuang Lu, Shuang He curved her lips into a smile. "My home is right here. Is it that strange?" Pride rang clearly in her voice as she spoke. Sun Shiqi intended to exchange a few more words with the girl, but noticed the burly, powerful man standing in front of her glaring at him. Suspicion was written plainly across his eyes. Suffocating in the crush, Sun Shiqi coughed dryly. He had just managed to muster a harmless smile when the surging crowd swept him off in another direction. At least two to three thousand people were packed into the area. Those local survivors who couldn't make it in person gathered at the Changjiu Farm Town Hall or the castle on Bet Street. Those locations featured "televisions" cobbled together from VM screens. Though the screens weren't large, it was far easier to see clearly than battling the sea of bodies on-site. At that moment, in the plaza at the center of the crowd. Chu Guang, clad in deep-blue power armor, stood on the third floor of the patched-up sanatorium, where a gap in the wall remained unsealed. Xiao Qi usually stood there. When Chu Guang had free time, he would occasionally come up to keep it company, using drones to peek at what the players were doing. Though the outpost had been developed into a proper settlement, and the commercial street to the north had expanded all the way to the edge of the Niuma Brick Factory, this sanatorium alone remained just as it had been when the server first went live. Standing in the crowd, Lao Bai looked up at the sanatorium ahead, his face full of nostalgia. "I was the one who patched that window on the second floor." "Big deal. I rebuilt the first-floor wall," Spare the Blade chuckled. In the beginning, Lao Bai had been the construction team leader, but later Spare the Blade—having a background in civil engineering—took over. Never mind the sanatorium, he and his construction crew had built more than half the buildings in the outpost. Lao Bai gave a dry chuckle. "Doesn't matter! I fired both the bricks and the cement!" Ye Shi said helplessly, "Do you two seriously have to compete over this?" "Exactly," Fang Chang said, giving them a sidelong glance. "Even Ye Shi thinks you two are childish." Ye Shi leaped like a rabbit whose tail had been stepped on. "Get lost! Who's childish?! Is the old fart just jealous of my youth?" Jieyan: "Bwahaha!" Seeing Ye Shi's face flush red as he argued, Kuang Feng couldn't help letting out a snort, seemingly holding back laughter. Beside Kuang Feng, Gu Lang stared curiously at the power armor. He wasn't interested in the celebration; his curiosity was reserved entirely for that machine. "Is that thing really powered by nuclear fusion?" Kuang Feng glanced at him. "Probably." Gu Lang looked at Kuang Feng in surprise. "I thought you'd be more curious than me." Kuang Feng didn't answer, but Gu Lang felt there were unsaid words behind his expression. Not far away, Rourou excitedly hoisted Tail and Sisi high up. Its massive frame was exceptionally prominent in the crowd, but neither the natives nor the players paid the giant white bear any mind. Word had it that it had been awarded a medal by the Administrator for hauling ammunition on the front lines. Whenever the natives spoke of this anecdote, they couldn't help sighing with emotion: this was truly an inclusive place where, as long as one worked hard enough, even a bear could live like a human. "Can you see? Can you see?" "Ooh, thank you, Rourou! Rourou is the best!" "I see it, I see it! Whoa, this is way too high!" "Wait, where's Teng Teng? Where'd Teng Teng go?" Rourou craned its neck anxiously, but soon spotted her perched on Yaya's shoulders, looking thrilled. A human ladder. Standard operating procedure in FPS games. The only pity was that the game's models were too realistic, with physics and collision volumes so authentic that standing on a teammate's head was too wobbly; one had to settle for riding their shoulders. Craning her neck to look ahead, the usually quiet Teng Teng was unusually excited today, her spirits soaring. After all, she had organized this celebration with her own two hands! This was infinitely more fun than planning a corporate team-building event! "How much longer?" "Two minutes left... Hey, hey, don't mess with my hair! You'll ruin my style!" Yaya looked nervously around. Word was that drones were filming a promotional video to commemorate the end of the Phase A test, and every player logged in would get screen time. This was a chance to appear in an official cutscene! Yaya had deliberately put on her favorite outfit. She definitely didn't want to end up in the footage with messy hair. It was now 5:58 in the evening. Only two minutes remained before the celebration began. Not only were the natives waiting with bated breath, but every single player was gazing expectantly up at the Administrator on the third floor, and at Xiao Qi beside him. Cutscene cinematic! Phase B beta test! New version gameplay! Hurry up and bring it on!