Those with Good Sense Usually Have Good Luck, Whether NPC or Player

"Honorable Administrator, I am willing to offer my farm to the New Alliance!" Inside the reception room. Standing before Chu Guang, Old Brown respectfully bowed his head, resting his trembling, wrinkle-covered right hand over his left chest as a sign of deference. Chu Guang gave him a rather surprised look. *Well, well.* *Such high political awareness?* When he heard that Brown requested an audience, Chu Guang had assumed the man was here to ask for the grain and biomass oil previously requisitioned from him. He never expected Brown had come to surrender. "May I ask what brought on such a sudden decision?" *Because I want to live, of course—* Naturally, the clever Old Brown wouldn't say that out loud. Composing his expression, he lifted his head solemnly and spoke with measured, dramatic cadence. "It was your speech, Honorable Administrator." Chu Guang racked his brain trying to recall his speech, but he couldn't remember much of what he had said that day, only that he had ended it with an advertisement for his Nuka-Cola. Seeing Chu Guang remain silent, Old Brown continued. "...Your impassioned words at the celebration felt like a splash of cold water over my dull, foolish head, filling me with profound shame for my past conduct. In order to survive, I did many things I shouldn't have done. I cannot excuse any of it as being beyond my control; I only hope to lighten my sins through this offering. "A new world of equality without oppression is precisely what I yearn for as well." As he said this, Old Brown's face was painted with absolute piety, though his heart was awash with bitterness. In truth, it wasn't just about wanting to survive. Even if the New Alliance didn't take his farm, he could hardly keep it running much longer anyway. During the previous battle against the Tide, Shelter 404 had requisitioned almost all the biomass oil from his warehouses, and now that the war had ended, they showed no intention of paying it back. Of course, Brown didn't dare ask for it. After all, if not for those blue jackets, let alone his farm, his head would probably already be hanging on a chair belonging to the Bone Chewer tribe long before the Tide even struck. Even so, with both his grain and oil borrowed, his warehouses were now so empty rats could run races in them. Yesterday, he had his steward tally up the books and discovered that in just the first two months of the year, he had lost nearly ten thousand chips. The mere thought of having to feed over two hundred slaves and more than forty servants gave him a headache so fierce his skull felt ready to split. And that was only the beginning of the year. What would happen by year's end??? Most importantly, the New Alliance was now established, incorporating the entire area from the North Fifth Ring to Yumu District into the restoration zone. His farm sat squarely within those boundaries. What was bound to come had arrived at last. Old Brown was not in the least surprised by this outcome; on the contrary, he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. At least he wouldn't have to wake up in the dead of night, startled by noises outside, or greet the morning sun in sheer terror. He had had quite enough of living like that! Before Shelter 404 arrived to liberate his slaves, he would voluntarily offer his sinful farm to the glorious Alliance. As far as he could see, that was the only way left to preserve a final shred of dignity. Having listened to Old Brown's impassioned declamation, Chu Guang smiled inwardly, not believing a single syllable of that nonsense. Still, the fellow's initiative saved him a great deal of time. "I'm glad to hear you think that way, but we are not unreasonable people. We will not take your farm—it is your private property. As long as you are willing to abide by our order and recognize our sovereignty over the restoration zone, you may continue to operate it under our supervision." Brown froze upon hearing this, completely baffled by Chu Guang's words. He asked in a trembling, hushed voice, "Sir... I don't understand what you mean." Far more than having the Alliance's Administrator take his farm, he dreaded the man politely telling him, *Oh, that won't be necessary.* If the New Alliance took over the farm, it meant he would have a way out. He was genuinely terrified that this blue jacket would say "no, no" with his mouth, only to turn around and stage a public trial, having the slaves draw up a list of his crimes. That would be true ruin! Reading the rising dread in Old Brown's eyes, Chu Guang immediately guessed his thoughts. He smiled reassuringly to ease the tension. "I mean it literally. As long as you abide by Alliance law, release all your slaves, hire workers according to our minimum wage standards and labor regulations, and fulfill your tax obligations, you will enjoy the protection of the law." Release all the slaves? Brown offered a bitter smile. "Sir... you'd better just take my farm. Land is everywhere on the wasteland, but without slaves, it's just a useless pile of dirt. Crops won't jump out of the soil on their own." *People are never satisfied.* *It's as if giving workers a couple extra days off and letting them leave on time would bring the sky crashing down.* *Can't farm without slaves?* *What a joke!* Chu Guang felt the need to run the numbers for him. "How many slaves do you have?" Old Brown dared not hide anything, though he certainly didn't have the habit of counting his slaves every single day. He answered cautiously, "Around two hundred or so..." Chu Guang continued, "How much land?" Old Brown replied, "Actual cultivated area... around five hundred mu." Five hundred mu? That much? Chu Guang showed a flicker of surprise. Based on map estimates, he had assumed the Brown Farm's cultivated area was only about one hundred mu. Who knew it was five times larger than his estimate? That discrepancy was a bit absurd. Still. That matter could be sorted out later; they hadn't reached the land survey stage yet. "Over two hundred laborers to farm five hundred mu—don't you think that's a massive waste?" Chu Guang said with an expression of profound regret, gazing at the clueless Brown. Waste? Brown's face was a picture of blank confusion. He couldn't fathom where the waste was. Slaves didn't require wages; a mouthful of food was enough. What they ate was cheap, too. After harvesting the grain, scattering a handful of green wheat across the field, or planting ram horn potatoes in some neglected corner, provided their rations. Whatever was left over could be sold cheaply to scavengers. When a slave grew too old or weak to work, they could simply be sold off or dragged outside and disposed of. "If I were you, I would sell the slaves, use the money to buy a few tractors equipped with seeders and harvesters, and save a bit to build a water tower and irrigation ditches. For a mere five hundred mu of land, twenty-odd people are more than enough! Give them decent wages and bonuses, and they will work far harder than slaves ever would—they might even treat the farm as their own home. "'You can't farm without slaves'? That kind of thinking is fundamentally flawed!" Old Brown stood there, dazed by Chu Guang's lecture. After a long while, he asked in a small voice, "...Sir, two hundred slaves would fetch two hundred thousand silver coins at most. Is that enough to buy the equipment you mentioned?" He had never looked into how many silver coins or chips such machinery cost, but he felt the Administrator's calculations were rather arbitrary. Chu Guang smiled faintly. "It might not be quite enough, but it won't be far off. Considering your sincerity in joining the Alliance, we are willing to provide you with a loan at an interest rate so low it can be ignored, helping you upgrade your agricultural tools and navigate the initial transition period. "Don't worry about being unable to repay it. We differentiate between personal and corporate debt. This isn't Boulder City; going bankrupt won't turn you into a slave. As long as your accounts are in order, at worst your remaining assets will be auctioned off." Old Brown staggered out of the reception room in a complete daze, his head spinning with calculations he couldn't make sense of. He had come fully prepared to lose the farm, merely hoping the Administrator would leave him a bit of wealth for his retirement. Yet he had ended up securing a loan? And he got to keep operating his farm. His mind was utterly perplexed. *Running the numbers back and forth... did I actually come out ahead?* *Incredible.* Chu Guang did not make things difficult for such a sensible feudal lord; he even offered a few words of encouragement and personally saw him to the door. Clinging greedily to every scrap of property was the behavior of a Grandet; allocating resources rationally was what the leader of an alliance ought to do. Chu Guang didn't need the farm itself; he needed to ensure the production of food and industrial raw materials across his territory. If Old Brown was willing to actively embrace the new order, Chu Guang was naturally happy to grant him a dignified outcome. If the propaganda apparatus was handled well, Old Brown's example might even serve as a model for the small feudal lords beyond the restoration zone. Watching the figure vanish past the edge of the park, Chu Guang stroked his chin in thought. "...The New Alliance needs its own propaganda department." Why not take a cue from the Voice of Boulder City and set up a radio station belonging to Shuguang City? Chu Guang's eyes lit up; the more he thought about it, the more essential it seemed. What did you call someone who did good deeds without making their name known? A sucker! He couldn't let everyone else keep running their mouths unchallenged. The wastelanders of Boulder City, and indeed the entire southern region of Qingquan City, had a right to know the truth about the New Alliance and Shuguang City. In short, he needed to find a few silver-tongued talkers to reclaim the propaganda high ground he had neglected for so long! *** The following day, a working group dispatched by the New Alliance entered Brown Farm to conduct an inventory of its assets with the assistance of the guards. The primary matters to settle were the slaves and the land. One was a matter of principle, the other a matter of taxation; both were of paramount importance. As for Old Brown's private wealth, Chu Guang had no intention of seizing it. As long as it remained within the borders of the New Alliance, it hardly mattered whose hands held it. Old Brown was exceptionally cooperative with the working group sent to reform his estate. However, when he saw who was leading them, he was struck dumb. "M-Mr. Luka... hello." When he visited the outpost last winter, he hadn't recognized the face. It wasn't until he later inquired about Changjiu Farm that he learned Luka was an escaped slave from his own estate. When he first heard the news, Old Brown had broken out in a cold sweat. He still remembered how, in his fury, he had nearly executed the guard who had let Luka slip away. But considering that might make things worse, he had hesitated and ultimately stayed his hand. Facing Luka now, Old Brown was a bundle of nerves, feeling very much like meat on a chopping block. He was even beginning to regret not packing his valuables and fleeing. Luka, however, did not give him a hard time. He looked at him calmly and spoke. "Hello, Mr. Brown. "By order of the Honorable Administrator, I am Luka, here to oversee the restructuring of the farm. We will escort the slaves here to Changjiu Farm for education and rehabilitation. A specialist will assess their value and grant you a one-time compensation. "Following that, I must ensure that every single person here has gained the status of a free citizen. Remember: every single person. Unlawfully restricting personal freedom is a grave crime. You are now a citizen of the New Alliance, and I hope you bear that in mind." Luka had already been granted a new life. As for the past, he had long ceased dwelling on it; there was no point. Besides, this was a mission from the Administrator. Luka, who considered himself more loyal than anyone else, would never allow personal feelings to interfere. Brown nodded like a pecking hen, a servile smile plastered across his face. "I give you my word! I will cooperate fully with your work!" Luka gave a slight nod. "You had best do so." Twenty guards in black trench coats marched into Brown Farm in two orderly columns, their steps falling in perfect unison. Standing beside their hovels, the serfs stared blankly at the newcomers, utterly bewildered by the unfolding scene. They had no idea that their destinies were about to be turned upside down. Meanwhile, the farm guards stationed along the perimeter walls cast envious glances at the rifles slung across the trench-coated guards' backs. "No wonder they could beat the Bone Chewer tribe... With gear like that, I bet they could go toe-to-toe with Boulder City." Although they had never been to Boulder City, those immaculate formations, uniform attire, polished bayonets, and rifles were already the peak of what they could imagine. Just then, another guard chimed in. "I heard these guys aren't even their best fighters." "There are fighters even better than them?" "Those blue jackets are all Awakened! These guys in black coats are just regular guards keeping order." Every single one an Awakened?! How could that be! Hardly anyone believed it. A hundred or two hundred might be somewhat believable, but every single one? That was absurd! After all, Awakening required more than just hard training; it demanded considerable innate talent. Many people went their whole lives without ever Awakening, while others suddenly Awakened during a single brush with death. "By the way... now that Old Brown has surrendered, what's going to happen to us?" "Probably disbanded on the spot. If I were the New Alliance's Administrator, I wouldn't allow an uncontrolled armed force of this size sitting on my territory either." "But they didn't do anything to those mercenaries?" "That's different. Mercenaries are mercenaries; a slave owner's guards are another story... Anyway, there's a difference." "If we really get disbanded, I'll just go join the army. Risking my neck is risking my neck no matter who pays; I don't know how to do anything else anyway." "Come off it! A scrawny wretch like you? You think you could pass the physical?" "Heh!" Listening to the uninhibited banter of the men around him, Liu Wuyue's face was flushed with indignation. He hated the blue jackets for seizing the farm, and he hated these men for their utter indifference to the estate's fate—it was an insult to Brown's benevolence toward them! It showed no loyalty whatsoever! Finally, unable to hold back, he spat a low curse. "We gave them so much tribute, and now they're snatching the farm right out of our hands? Even Bloodhand wasn't this shameless!" It had taken him years of struggle to rise from a slave to a guard, earning a proper name for himself so he could finally ride roughshod over the slaves. And now someone was telling him they were all free? What kind of joke was this! He didn't want that garbage! An older guard glanced at him. "Bloodhand, huh... Those jackals came by often enough to extort us. We gave them far more grain than we ever gave the blue jackets." Liu Wuyue argued stubbornly, "At least they didn't steal our farm!" The older guard shrugged. "Maybe so, but what does that have to do with me? This is Old Brown's farm, not yours, and certainly not mine. Maybe he struck a deal with the New Alliance—some money, or other promises. Whatever it is, it has nothing to do with either of us." He held a fairly favorable impression of the New Alliance. Unlike most guards here, he was a drifter who had wandered in from the east, not a slave promoted through the ranks. He worked for Old Brown not out of loyalty, but purely to make a living. He had seen plenty of slave owners on his journey, but this was the first time he had encountered idealists willing to return freedom to the people. Though he had never met the Administrator, he was deeply impressed by the man's benevolence. Perhaps he really would enlist later. Just as the other guards had said, risking one's neck was the same whoever paid. Since he knew how to pull a trigger and nothing else, he might as well save his bullets for marauders and mutants. Liu Wuyue was choked with rage. Seeing that a fight was brewing, Liu Jiuyue, standing nearby, quickly stepped in and pulled him back. "Let it go, brother. Don't do anything rash." Starting a brawl in front of the guards was not a smart move. This was New Alliance territory now. As the captain of the farm guards, Liu Zhengyue's feelings were equally complicated. He felt Old Brown had simply been terrified out of his wits by the blue jackets. Perhaps the New Alliance had never intended to bother with them at all, looking down on a postage-stamp piece of land like this. It was all Old Brown's cleverness backfiring that had brought about this result. Besides, they had consistently supplied grain to those blue jackets. Surely they wouldn't slaughter the donkey once the grinding was done? Still, saying anything now was useless. Their master had already offered the farm to the New Alliance. The only consolation was that they could continue farming this land. Except there would be no more slaves to boss around. *** Out on the threshing ground. All 217 slaves were brought out and lined up in two rows across the open area, staring blankly at their surroundings and the rifle-toting guards. They didn't know these people had come to save them, nor did they know what had happened beyond the walls. They watched as Old Brown stepped in front of them. The man who had always lorded over them with harsh commands spoke today in an unprecedentedly polite tone, looking at them like human beings. "The New Alliance has been established. Give thanks to the great Administrator—from this moment on, you are free! I am no longer your master, and you are no longer anyone's slaves. "Live well in this new era. "It is all over." Leaving behind those words, Old Brown hurried away. Soon, the working group led by Luka took over, getting down to business alongside the guards. Quite a few slaves recognized Luka, but the transformation in him made them hesitant to approach. Luka, however, put on no airs. He walked up to them patiently, preaching the ideas and will of the Honorable Administrator. Along with the single piece of personal doctrine he couldn't resist smuggling in— Loyalty! *It was the Administrator who saved you, so you must always remember and uphold your loyalty!* Hearing this, the previously anxious slaves breathed collective sighs of relief. For the vast majority of them, "loyalty"—something that could be explained in a single sentence—was far easier to grasp than high-minded concepts like equality and salvation. Seeing that these people finally understood the Administrator's earnest intentions, Old Luka's face softened into a gratified smile. No matter what, outdated relations of production had to be abolished. Within the New Alliance's restoration zone, human freedom would be protected by law. That was Chu Guang's promise to everyone who supported him. The 217 serfs and 41 servants were automatically granted ward status and would be sent to Changjiu Farm for rehabilitation lasting anywhere from one to six months. During this period, the New Alliance would provide food and educational opportunities, while their obligation was to learn at least one livelihood skill. Whether operating a sewing machine, laying bricks, or tightening bolts, they needed to find work they could perform. In addition, they were required to study the New Alliance's laws and absorb new ways of thinking. Once their rehabilitation was complete, everyone would automatically become residents of the New Alliance, free to decide their own futures. Naturally, they could continue farming. Only this time, not for others, but for themselves. *** Chu Guang had originally planned to oversee the integration of Brown Farm in person, but more pressing matters kept him away, so he had entrusted the task to Old Luka. Today marked the third day since the founding of the New Alliance. At eight o'clock in the morning, wasteland time, the first batch of lucky players granted access to the Beta 0.1 closed beta finally logged in. Chu Guang temporarily housed the newly manufactured incubation pods in Shelter 117. Floor B4 lacked independent rooms suitable for placing hibernation pods, and it contained the shelter's most sensitive core area—the control server terminal. That was a "developer" feature, and Chu Guang naturally wouldn't open it up to players. While Shelter 404 had no spare room, Shelter 117 still had one hundred "luxury single rooms" available. In the Beta 0.1 bug fixes, Chu Guang converted all five hundred rooms in Shelter 117 into double dormitories, instantly doubling its population cap so that it could now accommodate up to a thousand people. The first batch of players for the Phase B test was tentatively set at forty. At the same time, exploration plans for Shelter 401 and the reactor fuel rods were underway, currently led by the scientific research team under Yin Fang. On the central plaza of Shelter 117. A raucous clamor filled the air. Most of them had put on their helmets just to try their luck, never expecting it to be real. All their anticipation and anxiety settled in this moment, giving way to an outpouring of joy and excitement that felt like being born anew! Lower Your Voice I'm Braum: "Hahaha! I'm in! I'm finally in!" Asian Picture: "Everyone quiet down, listen to me! Everyone here stood out from hundreds of millions of brothers—talk with some backbone!" Brother Ice and Fire: "Awoo! Stand tall, boys! Dog planner, you there? Light a smoke for your granddaddy!" Asian Picture: "Holy crap, brother, you're a madman!" Falling Feather pinched and rubbed his face repeatedly. "Wait, wait, wait? Doesn't this game have character creation or gender selection?" Gentle Breeze stared blankly at his surroundings. "The modeling is completely flawless—no clipping through objects at all. And the lighting, shadows, temperature differences... this game is way too real!" Clad in deep-blue power armor, Chu Guang stood nearby with his most loyal guards, watching in silence as the excited newcomers laughed, cried, shouted, and jumped around. He was long accustomed to the players' performance art and understood their excitement, but the guards beside him were still rather bewildered. Chu Guang gave a light cough and murmured over the comms channel, "Cryo-awakening syndrome. After two centuries in stasis... this happens from time to time. Don't look so surprised." He made up the symptom on the spot, knowing no one could disprove it anyway. The guards in exoskeletons naturally never doubted a word from the Administrator. In their eyes, his will was gospel, and they nodded dutifully. Far from looking surprised, their expressions remained completely impassive. Just like in previous versions, Chu Guang gave the excited little players plenty of time to celebrate, letting them vent all their pent-up thrill and joy. Meanwhile, veteran players looking to take on the "Passing the Torch" quest lingered around the edges of the hall, sizing up the newcomers and picking candidates. Most of them had gone through the exact same thing. Some had even been far more unhinged than these new guys. Watching greenhorns lose their minds had become one of the staple pastimes of the *Wasteland OL* closed beta. "This batch of rookies is weak," Tail declared, crossing her arms and shaking her head like an old veteran. "Not a single one took off their pants!" Sisi shot her a sideways glance. "That's a very dangerous comment, you know." The veterans mentoring newcomers were mostly in the Lv. 8 to Lv. 11 range, though a few "half-baked" players who had just crossed Lv. 5 also showed up to recruit apprentices. Chu Guang hadn't imposed strict level requirements on the Passing the Torch quest, nor did he restrict it to combat classes; the sole prerequisite was owning a VM. At the same time, with the introduction of the Corps System in Beta 0.1, many veteran players planning to establish independent corps were also scouting for recruits. However, these big shots had stricter recruitment criteria than solo players, primarily targeting like-minded hardcore gamers. There were many ways to play *Wasteland OL*. While Chu Guang leaned toward recruiting hardcore players willing to grind, he didn't *only* recruit hardcore players. An overly serious server atmosphere would turn the game into a niche title. That was why Chu Guang constantly emphasized on the official website that *Wasteland OL* was a casual, lighthearted MMORPG. Carrying a wooden sign on his shoulder, Indebted Big Eye shouted at the top of his lungs, looking like an old man picking up kids outside a kindergarten. "Death Corps is recruiting! We've got the highest casualty rate and the most medals! Wherever it's dangerous, that's where we go! The only requirement is following orders in group battles and not fearing death! Professional firefighter Brother Water will show you what a real disaster scene feels like!" Marginal Water-skater couldn't help spitting in exasperation. "Is that how you advertise?!" Indebted Big Eye chuckled. "What do you know? Don't you see the rookies' eyes lighting up?" Construction Site Youth and Brick raised a hand. "I'm with Big Eye! Better to be upfront with the new guys than have arguments after they join!" On the other side, Brother Mole's Skeleton Corps and Commander Spring's Storm Corps were also recruiting, though neither was quite as uninhibited. If they had special selling points, they did: the former focused on German-style kit, handing out entrenching shovels to recruits; the latter promoted operating in dispersed cells, letting members wear whatever they pleased. Many newcomers had read Brother Mole's forum posts. Hearing that he was an unemployed painter, a few players with rather questionable, borderline-criminal inclinations went over to sign up with him. Aside from Death Corps, the one making the biggest racket was undoubtedly Brother Mosquito. The fellow took performance art to the absolute extreme. Standing in the square decked out in full flamethrower kit, he blared in his raspy, duck-like voice: "Burning Corps is recruiting! Tier 0 god-tier pros taking you along for the ride! We've got an air force and artillery! Join now and get a ten-percent discount voucher for Goblin Technology! No expiration date!" Commander Spring: "Damn it, Mosquito, aren't you a production player?" Mole Escaping the Canyon: "Exactly! What the hell are you doing jumping in on the fun? And you dare call that thing an air force?" Makabazi: "Yeah! That janky plane of yours looks less like an air force than my brother Cut the Crap does!" Cut the Crap: "???" Ignoring everyone's roasts, Mosquito chuckled. "Heh, who says I'm a production player? Have you ever seen a production player score a boss first-kill?" Standing to the side, Battlefield Atmosphere Group and I'm the Darkest rolled their eyes in unison. *This guy.* *He just stole a last hit, and he brags about it every single day!* Mosquito cleared his throat. "All jokes aside, I'm recruiting on behalf of Lao Bai and the others. We originally planned to call it the Ox and Horse Corps, but the name sounded too lame. Since we used to play Warcraft together, we changed it to Burning Corps." So it was for the big shots of the Ox and Horse group. The crowd stopped teasing Mosquito for baiting newbies. Everyone had witnessed the combat prowess of the Ox and Horse Squad. Still, the fact that Lao Bai and his crew hadn't shown up in person, sending Mosquito instead, surprised Mole, Commander Spring, and the rest. Had those lucky bastards triggered another hidden quest? It was simply too unfair if they didn't get nerfed! Beside the newly formed corps, merchant players hoping to rope newbies into their caravans were also shouting and painting grand visions. The square buzzed with relentless clamor. The rookies realized in utter bewilderment that these veteran players were far crazier than they were. Right at that moment, a shriek rose from the crowd. Unprofessional Anti-Steamed Bun: "Fuck! Why is my nose flat?!" The players around him turned toward the entrance and immediately burst out laughing. *Holy crap.* *A walking, upright... Bajie?* There was no mistaking that snout and those ears! "Incredible! After catgirls, we get pigmen now?" "Hey friend, do you eat pork?" "Ugh, the dog planner's twisted sense of humor!" "Hahahaha, bro, I've read your doujinshi!" Unprofessional Anti-Steamed Bun: "%￥#@!" Standing in the plaza, Chu Guang also wore a look of astonishment. Especially when he pulled up the little player's stat panel. [ID: Unprofessional Anti-Steamed Bun] [Gene Sequence: Constitution-type] [Level: Lv. 0] —Basic Attributes— Strength: 5 Agility: 3 Constitution: 7 Perception: 5 Intelligence: 5 [Talents: Pigman: Gains a pig's snout, ears, and tail. (Messed up. Pig and human gene similarity reaches 83%, yet merging the two wasn't as smooth as imagined... Maybe I should try a cat next time.) Accelerated Recovery: Gains a 133%–150% recovery speed bonus; hunger accumulation rate simultaneously increased by 200%.] Just like with Sesame Paste before him, this player's sequence wasn't classified as a mutant, but as Constitution-type. His stat sheet followed the standard Constitution template: 3 Agility, 7 Constitution, with the remaining stats at the baseline of 5. Thank goodness for that. After all, lizard claws or polar bear paws were at least somewhat usable; the clubfoot-and-paw debuff merely caused a slight lack of finger coordination. As for pig trotters... Aside from braising them in brown sauce, Chu Guang honestly couldn't think of any practical use. "Forget it, I'll let the players figure out the build themselves." Chu Guang gave a light cough and walked up to the players. With practiced ease, he batted away a hand reaching for his chest armor and activated his Mental Deterrence talent, forcing the mischievous little player to back away on instinct. Waiting until the crowd fell quiet, Chu Guang met those pairs of expectant eyes and solemnly delivered the opening address he had redesigned for the Beta version. "Welcome back to the surface, surviving lucky ones! I am the Administrator of Shelter 404, and also the Administrator of the Alliance. "I have two pieces of important news for you. The good news is that the war is over. The bad news is that our world is changed beyond recognition. "However, the situation here is not as dire as you might imagine. Thanks to the efforts of your predecessors, who united the surface's native inhabitants, conquered the savagery threatening us, and successfully established our first stronghold on the wasteland. "By decree of the Human Alliance's supreme leadership, the United Front for the Restoration of Human Civilization has been established. We have forged a new alliance, and soon, restoration zones will spring up like bamboo shoots after rain, until we have reclaimed everything we lost one by one. "To live in this new era makes you luckier than tens of billions of souls. After celebrating the joy of rebirth, I need you to grasp the reality of our world as quickly as possible, and fulfill the oath you swore under the flag of the Human Alliance— "Rebuild our home!" In the game's lore, the players were popsicles who had been in stasis since the Human Alliance era. Even though the hibernation pods possessed no actual cryogenic freezing function. After finishing this speech in Chinese, Chu Guang recorded it and backed it up on the server. From now on, new players would arrive every day, and he couldn't personally act as a human parrot every single morning. Later, Chu Guang would instruct a trusted guard clad in a Type 6 "Heavy Cavalry" exoskeleton to stand here in his stead, replaying his recording—or simply repeating his speech word for word. With the opening cutscene concluded, Chu Guang handed the floor over to the veteran players. Amid the lively welcoming ceremony, the newcomers found their respective groups. Eagerly clutching the starter kits prepared by the Administrator, they readied themselves to step out into this mysterious wasteland, eager to experience just how real a one-hundred-percent realistic VR game could truly be. With veterans looking after them, Brother Jieyan's record for the fastest death wouldn't be broken anytime soon. At the very same time, the server's strongest combat unit, the Ox and Horse Squad, was quietly approaching the eastern sector of Qingquan City—an area where few had ever set foot. Standing atop a half-collapsed skyscraper, Fang Chang raised his binoculars toward the boundless forest intertwined among the reinforced concrete ruins. A look of sheer awe washed over his face. "This is... absolutely breathtaking..."