This Is a Valuable Quest Item

Boulder City, East Gate. Beside the unloading dock of the trading post, crates and bundles of cargo were stacked like small hills. Standing next to a pile of grain, a bare-chested stevedore slung a grimy rag over his shoulder, pushed against a sturdy burlap sack with his hand, and felt a flicker of surprise in his eyes. "Is this yesterday's batch?" Henry remembered it clearly. Just yesterday morning, he had unloaded this very shipment from the backs of two-headed oxen. He hadn't expected it would already be loaded right back up. Beside him, a fellow worker bared his teeth with a grin. "Yeah, grain hauled in from the southern farms. Smells as fresh as clean clothes just hung out to dry." Now that June had arrived, the weather was getting hotter by the day. It would be amazing to have an ice-cold bottle of Nuka-Cola. Of course, on their wages, they couldn't afford such a luxury. "Where's all this stuff being shipped to?" a dark-skinned youth leaned in and asked curiously. Henry remembered his name—it seemed to be Hang. He lived in the nearby slums, somewhere around twelve or thirteen years old, still just a kid. The trading post differed from other places in that quite a few of its workers came from the slums outside the massive wall. Word was that these people asked for even lower pay than the rest of them, satisfied with a single chip and two scoops of slimy nutrient paste a day. To be honest, Henry disliked these slum kids. Precisely because there were always people willing to endure a lower standard of living, their own wages had been driven down again and again. A single chip might be enough to keep one person alive, but he had an entire family to feed! "To our neighbors," Henry said in a chilly tone. The stevedore beside him couldn't help grumbling, "Damn it... With so much food, why won't those profiteering bastards sell it to us a little cheaper?" If a kilogram of bread cost just one chip, they could still afford it. But usually, one chip could only buy a green wheat cake as hard as a stone. Just then, the trading post supervisor strolled over. Overhearing the paupers' complaints, he rolled his eyes without hesitation. "Dream the hell on!" "Do you expect food grown from the dirt to be as cheap as nutrient paste? Quit your whining and get to work! If you don't bust your ass, you won't even be able to afford nutrient paste!" Under the supervisor's prodding, the grumbling stevedores quickly dispersed, burying their heads in work and daring not utter another word. Though their bellies were full of resentment, jobs were hard to come by these days. If they got fired, their whole family would starve with them... *** Grain wasn't the only thing that needed moving. There were also bales of cotton cloth, construction parts and tools, as well as lighting fixtures and generators. The total value of these goods reached five hundred thousand chips, weighing a full four hundred and fifty tons. If ten such shipments could be made in a month, the monthly trade volume would be five million chips—sixty million over the course of a year. Factoring in shipping costs, two hundred million chips really wasn't all that much to burn through... Meanwhile, not far from the trading post, several heavily armed players had assembled. Wearing an exoskeleton and carrying a rifle on his back, Lao Bai glanced toward the slums. Everything was peaceful there. Dull, lifeless faces went about their business as usual. Nothing suggested a homicide had taken place there just a few days ago. Nor could he sense any hostile gazes cast in their direction. Lao Bai let out a quiet sigh of relief. Just as he had anticipated, that so-called Dagger Gang didn't dare stir up trouble with them. Their New Alliance was young. It couldn't match the scale of Boulder City, which had held the lead for two centuries, nor could it rival the arms-manufacturing giants and the Castellan perched atop the massive wall. Yet before a mere handful of marauder gangs, they were still an elephant. The two sides simply did not exist on the same plane. The gang naturally understood this and wouldn't come looking for trouble over the life of a low-ranking thug. Of course, it was also possible he was overthinking things; maybe the game code just hadn't included a follow-up branch for that plotline. While Lao Bai was lost in thought, an NPC guard from the liaison office walked over, stopped before him, and said, "The trading post is loading the cargo. We need to wait a moment." Lao Bai wasn't very fluent in the Human Alliance language, so he merely nodded and replied concisely, "No problem. A short wait is fine." Not far off, the trading post was a scene of bustling activity. Bare-chested stevedores shuttled back and forth between the cargo piles and the pack caravan, hoisting goods onto the backs of two-headed oxen and tying them down. These two-headed cattle were docile and robust. A single beast weighed five or six hundred kilograms, while mutant varieties could reach a staggering ton, bulky as hippos. Most importantly, they weren't picky eaters. Possessing iron stomachs comparable to mutant hyenas and growing relatively fast, they were widely used as pack animals across the wasteland. Where tires and tracks couldn't tread, they walked as if on flat ground. Though not fast, their steady pace was dependable, and in a fight, they could even serve as cover. The players were already well accustomed to two-headed oxen; the northern suburbs' Shuang Mao Ranch raised them too. What surprised the players this time, however, was that these oxen looked different from usual. Not only were they larger, but they also wore metallic apparatuses over their bodies. They looked like exoskeletons. "Holy crap... Even cows get exoskeletons now?" Sha Bi asked in astonishment, staring at the caravan. Standing nearby, Brother Dog followed his gaze, studied the cattle for a moment, and said, "Those are probably unpowered exoskeletons." "What's an unpowered exoskeleton?" Sha Bi asked curiously. Beside them, Shendoushi explained, "Basically, no battery and no motor. It works like a cart on wheels, letting you shift part of the cargo's weight onto the ground." "Then why not just build mechanical oxen?" Brother Dog rolled his eyes. "Why not just ship it with rockets while we're at it?" Shendoushi replied offhandedly, "Because a mechanical ox's operating cost isn't a fistful of grass per hundred kilometers. You'd have to replace worn-out parts, oil it regularly... Just my guess." Sha Bi could accept that logic. Still, equipping two-headed oxen with unpowered exoskeletons took the concept of squeezing out every ounce of utility to the absolute limit. Loading didn't take long. Lao Bai raised his arm and checked his VM screen. A pop-up notification appeared: *Escort quest commenced.* They needed to deliver the cargo to the northern suburbs within forty-eight hours while ensuring the safety of personnel and materials. "All loaded." "Where's Fang Chang?" Sha Bi glanced left and right, noticing someone was missing. Lao Bai said casually, "He has some business to attend to and needs to stay here for a while. Let's hit the road first." Brother Dog let out a wail. "Damn it, that guy's hogging the good stuff again!" "Exactly! He's been acting on his own every single day lately. He's definitely up to no good!" Hearing his teammates' banter, Lao Bai gave a hearty laugh. "Leave him be. He has his own matters to handle. When he's done, he'll come back." Looking back at the caravan behind him, he gave a crisp forward wave. "Move out!" The convoy began to roll. Escorting more than two hundred two-headed oxen and hundreds of tons of cargo, the group embarked on the journey to the northern suburbs in grand fashion, watched by passing wastelander travelers. The caravan's escort didn't just include a few players from the Burning Corps; two local Boulder City mercenary groups were also hired, bringing the force to well over a hundred men. Faced with a caravan like this, ordinary marauders stayed far, far away. Far from creeping closer to probe, those bullies who preyed only on the weak didn't even dare look in their direction. Rumor had it that the New Alliance also planned to renovate the subway tunnel leading from Boulder City to the northern suburbs, sealing off all side branches. That would cut the two-day trek down to under a day. If they laid power cables and ran a few electric trams back and forth, a single trip might take only two or three hours! In a straight line, the distance from Boulder City to Bet Street was only about ten kilometers, extending to fourteen or fifteen kilometers at most to Ling Lake Wetland Park. However, the project hadn't been finalized yet. The Boulder City Administration was reluctant to put up the money. Dulong's reasoning was sound enough: they couldn't spend outer-city citizens' tax money outside the massive wall. Though the New Alliance stated they could renovate the tunnel themselves and handle its operation, such a massive undertaking would cost an astronomical figure. Given the New Alliance's current financial situation, they couldn't afford it outright and could only borrow from the Bank of Boulder City. Although President Melvin claimed he was eager for the New Alliance to borrow even more, those two hundred million chips had just been disbursed without showing concrete results yet. He felt a bit hesitant inside and wanted to see how things turned out first. Chu Guang didn't push. Fleece-shearing had to be done steadily and sustainably. Ideally, right after spending the first loan, Boulder City would experience its first round of inflation, sending the prices of chip-denominated bulk commodities soaring. But if he overextended their production capacity too quickly, the value lost wouldn't just be his debt—it would be the purchasing power of the money he had just borrowed... *** Northwest of Dawn City lay the northern suburbs' granary. Standing beside a towering mill, Chu Guang inspected the fields, accompanied by Old Charlie. Following a series of reforms and personnel shifts, Charlie had stepped down from the Merchant Guild and transitioned to become the head of the Alliance Department of Economy. The vacant guild master position was taken over by the former head of the trading post. This was Old Charlie's own recommendation. The trading post staff frequently dealt with wasteland merchants. Managers promoted from the ground up were not only familiar with the temperament of those wastelanders and their trading procedures, but they were also far more adept at navigating relationships with them. Having the trading post's former chief run the Merchant Guild couldn't have been more fitting. The Merchant Guild primarily served players, though not exclusively. It operated more like a service department, bridging the gap between players and NPCs in trade. The Department of Economy, on the other hand, handled macroeconomic strategy, serving the entire Alliance with far greater long-term significance. Although it currently consisted of just one office with a staff you could count on one hand, its role in the Alliance would only grow more vital over time. With the administrative reorganization finally settled, Chu Guang had found rare moments of free time lately. Whenever he wasn't too busy, he liked to stroll around the farm, unwind, and see how the crops were doing. Sometimes he came alone; other times he brought company. The most magnificent sight was the paddy fields. The crops were thriving splendidly, with tender yellow sprouting from robust, deep-green seedlings. With improved seeds cultivated by the digital planting towers, combined with chemical fertilizer produced by the chemical plant, and tended by diligent little players and survivors, this year's harvest was bound to be spectacular. The yield per mu might very well top a thousand jin in its first year! Currently, the New Alliance's cultivated land had expanded from thirty thousand mu to forty thousand, with over half dedicated to high-yield corn and rice. Two more months. Come August, grain reaped from this fertile soil would fill the Alliance's granaries to the brim! Looking across the endless fields, Chu Guang couldn't help but wear the satisfied smile of an old father. Wonderful! And yet... This alone was clearly not enough. "...I originally thought the thirty thousand mu we planned would be plenty, but plans can never keep up with changes." In theory, one to two mu could sustain a survivor, while three mu could feed a player. Given Dawn City's population, Chu Guang's initial thirty thousand mu was more than enough by any calculation. Furthermore, during the 'Swords into Plowshares' expansion, the players had cleared five thousand mu more than originally projected. In Chu Guang's mind, the grain produced from this land wouldn't just fill the bellies of New Alliance residents; there would be a massive surplus. Yet at the start of the year, how could he have anticipated that by mid-year, the New Alliance's permanent population would multiply several times over, jumping from three thousand to nearly thirty thousand...? And that didn't even count the gluttonous players or the more than twenty thousand slaves in the POW camps. Due to the wild population swings, the New Alliance's grain reserves were like Schrödinger's cat, constantly toggling between 'enough' and 'not enough.' "Our population growth really has been fast... far outstripping the pace of our farmland expansion," Old Charlie said, following beside Chu Guang with worry in his eyes. More people was certainly good. On the wasteland, population itself was a precious asset. Yet it was also a double-edged sword. People only had the strength to work when fed; they only cared about dignity when clothed; they only felt loyal when sheltered; and they only thought about the future of the next generation once they formed families. If soaring demand couldn't be met, excess population would turn into a burden. "There's no other choice. We can't just leave those people to fend for themselves," Chu Guang replied casually, gazing at the survivors working in the distant fields. He had lived in Bet Street for a considerable time. To him, those survivors were living human beings, not mere numbers on a ledger. It was precisely because of this that so many people offered their heartfelt loyalty to the Alliance. Looking on the bright side, there were still plenty of solutions. He held many cards in his hand. "...Thirty-five thousand mu of farmland isn't nearly enough; we need to clear more land. Before winter wheat sowing begins, we must ensure our cultivated area expands to fifty thousand mu, and reaches one hundred thousand mu before next year's spring plowing." Pondering for a moment, Chu Guang continued, "On top of that, we must mobilize the prisoners of war to cultivate the land east of Xizhou Lake down to the south bank of the Tianshui River. The terrain there is rugged, but the soil is exceptionally fertile. Once the eastern embankment of Xizhou Lake is finished, putting together another hundred thousand mu of farmland shouldn't be an issue. "Until we achieve total food self-sufficiency, we'll have to import as much as we can from the southern farm owners. As for trade matters, you'll need to keep a close eye on things alongside the Commerce and Foreign Affairs departments." Old Charlie nodded solemnly. "I'll keep a close watch." Fortunately, the New Alliance's industrial goods were quite popular in the south. In particular, the LD-47 rifle series and various large-caliber weapons were ideal for dealing with the mutants active in Jinchuan Province. Those green-skinned hulks possessed ferocious close-quarters prowess and astonishing regenerative abilities, brushing off standard gunfire as if nothing had happened. Even so, they couldn't withstand sprays of 7mm full-power rounds or 20mm high-explosive shells from the Lance. Lately, several farm owners had even sent servants over, wanting to purchase propeller aircraft. Piloting such planes required skill, however. The farm owners' plan was to send a batch of loyal servants to learn, who would then fly the planes directly back once trained. Naturally, they would pay the tuition in grain. The profit margin on selling planes was far higher than selling rifles. Propeller-driven though they were, they could fly nonetheless. Trading a single aircraft for the provisions of one to two thousand people was no problem at all. Having outlined his future plans, Chu Guang turned to Old Charlie with a smile and continued, "Let's talk about something cheerful. "This morning, Luka called me to report that the supplies we bought for five hundred thousand chips have already set off. That includes grain, cotton cloth, equipment needed to build the electrical grid, construction tools, and more. "In two days, he'll arrive in the northern suburbs along with those four hundred and fifty tons of supplies. After that, a fresh batch of supplies will be delivered every three days. "With these goods, our construction site at Daybreak City will advance twice as fast. Perhaps it won't even take two years; before this year ends, our new settlement will be on track!" Looking at the beaming Administrator, Old Charlie managed a smile, though it leaned toward a wry grimace. Could this really be called good news? Five hundred thousand chips... In a single day, they had spent the lifetime savings of five Old Leeches. Every bit of that money had to be repaid... *** Boulder City. A mansion near the inner city. Seated upon an opulent chair, Alisa gently teased the short-haired black cat lounging in her lap with a pale, slender finger. Listening to the pampered purrs from her lap, her lightly curling eyelashes curved into soft crescents. Beside her chair stood two bodyguards and a servant. In the eye socket of one bodyguard, a metallic cybernetic eye whirred softly, fixing an unblinking gaze on the unfamiliar guest in the room. Though three pairs of eyes stared intently at him, Fang Chang didn't mind in the least. *They're NPCs.* When triggering a cutscene, wasn't it completely normal for them to stare down the player? What caught his attention more was the girl seated in the chair. She wore a gown that was visibly expensive, her dark brown hair elegantly styled, exposing a fair, slender neck. Unlike Dolly, she possessed an indescribable air, as though she didn't belong to this world at all. Thinking it over, that wasn't surprising. After all, standing inside this mansion, looking out of any window offered not the slightest glimpse of wasteland scenery. Gazing at the young woman in the chair, Fang Chang couldn't help thinking the game developers really ought to add a couple of extra drumsticks to the modelers' lunchboxes. Blending three distinct artistic styles into the same map, transitioning between scenes with intense visual contrast while feeling entirely seamless— What was the Ninth Art? *This* was the Ninth Art! "Thank you, Mr. Mercenary." "I thought I would never see my Xiaohei again." A melodious voice pulled Fang Chang back to reality. Gathering his thoughts, he retracted his gaze and politely replied, "You're welcome. It was my honor to make you worry." His Human Alliance language had grown increasingly fluent lately. Operating on the principle of practicing as much as possible, he had added an extra phrase. However— Perhaps his phrasing wasn't quite accurate, or his grammar had faltered. The bodyguards and servant beside the NPC named Alisa all stared at him in dumbfounded shock. Alisa was visibly taken aback as well. Recovering, the girl stifled a giggle, blinked, and spoke in her musical voice, "Perhaps you meant to say something else. "Regardless, thanks to your help, I was able to get Xiaohei back." Two days ago, when that obscure little newspaper approached her, Alisa hadn't harbored much hope. Yet to her astonishment, they had actually found the lost Xiaohei. Out of curiosity, she had her servant bring the mercenary before her. He wasn't what she had imagined. She had expected mercenaries to be rough men with bushy beards and more scars than wrinkles, not a genteel, scholarly young man. After studying Fang Chang for a moment, Alisa asked with keen interest, "Could you tell me how you managed it?" Fang Chang's expression grew subtle. Naturally, he couldn't very well admit that he had paid two hundred silver coins to hire a certain fat rat, which then helped him find this hyperactive little idiot of a cat halfway up the massive wall. Of course, it wasn't entirely Brother Qiangren Suonan's doing; Dolly had helped him quite a bit over the past two days as well. For some reason, the coal-black kitten seemed a bit afraid of him, yet it didn't fear Dolly much at all. *Could it be that the scent of machine oil is intoxicating to it?* Either way, the commission entrusted to him personally by the head of the Alliance Liaison Office was finally complete. The reward totaled twenty-five chips. Setting aside contribution points and regional reputation, strictly in monetary terms, he had actually taken a slight loss. "It's a long story..." "...It seems to be a private secret, so I won't pry." Alisa didn't press. After comforting the cat in her lap for a moment, she gently set it aside. Turning back to the man standing before her, she offered a playful wink. "In exchange, could you tell me about the world beyond the massive wall?" "Beyond the wall..." Fang Chang found himself in a tight spot, scratching his head. "That covers too much ground. Where should I even begin?" Alisa said, "Just tell me your story. For example... where do you come from?" "The northern suburbs," Fang Chang answered truthfully. A flicker of surprise crossed Alisa's eyes. "You're a resident of the northern suburbs?" "Yes. Is something the matter?" "No, nothing. It's just that I've been hearing my father mention that place quite a bit lately." Shaking her head gently, Alisa looked at him with unmistakable curiosity. "Could you tell me what kind of place it is?" "It's hard to describe. If you ask me, it's not wealthy, but it's a place full of hope..." Organizing his thoughts, Fang Chang used his limited vocabulary to simply outline conditions there. He had assumed the girl wouldn't find it interesting, yet she listened with surprising attentiveness. After some ten-odd minutes, Alisa closed her eyes in reflection, then broke into a smile. "Thank you for chatting with me for so long." "You're welcome... Ah, right, could I trouble you to write a letter of thanks?" Fang Chang quickly added, suddenly remembering what the NPC named Hal had requested. *Close one.* *I almost forgot the real objective.* "Of course. I've already written it." Alisa smiled gracefully and nodded toward the servant. The elderly servant stepped forward, retrieved an envelope from his coat, and handed it to Fang Chang. Taking the letter, Fang Chang politely declined an invitation to afternoon tea. After expressing his thanks, he departed the luxurious mansion under the 'escort' of the two bodyguards. Turning down two streets, he found Dolly standing beneath a streetlamp with her arms crossed. The short, green-haired girl was kicking a bottle cap on the ground with her toe to pass the boring time. Spotting Fang Chang rounding the corner, she stopped at once and stepped up to ask, "Did you give Xiaohei back to her?" "Yeah. Caught feelings after just half a day?" Fang Chang teased. Dolly raised an eyebrow. "As if! I was... just asking." Fang Chang chuckled. "I believe you." He could tell the girl actually liked that clingy little cat quite a bit. Still, she understood that it was someone else's pet after all. Not to mention she could barely look after herself; a fussy creature like that would only suffer living with her. "Hey." "What is it?" "Is the bank president's daughter pretty?" Dolly asked curiously. Fang Chang answered casually, "Quite pretty. A dignified, elegant girl." Dolly wrinkled her nose. Her curiosity was satisfied, but her expression turned somewhat peculiar. "...By the way, are you really interested in commissions worth just twenty-five chips?" "Chips aren't my goal. What I need is this letter." Fang Chang gave the envelope between his fingers a light flick before slipping it back into his pocket. The twenty-five chips were just part of the quest rewards. If it were purely for the money, he wouldn't have taken the job in the first place. Explaining this to an NPC was far too troublesome, however. It wasn't that no one had tried; NPCs simply couldn't comprehend what a video game was, and outright telling them their world was merely a 'game' felt too rude. Perhaps that too was part of the setting. "A letter?" "Yeah. A valuable quest item." "...?" Leaving Dolly utterly baffled, Fang Chang led her straight toward the newspaper office. Once he handed this letter over to the NPC Hal, the quest would be complete. He didn't know what use this new NPC had, but grinding favorability could never go wrong. Watching Fang Chang stride forward in good spirits, Dolly followed behind him, her face filled with conflicted emotions. She still couldn't understand why a man who could toss around over fifty thousand chips without blinking would care about a measly twenty-five-chip job. Did he just like cats? Didn't seem like it. Or could it be... He wanted to use Xiaohei to get close to the Bank of Boulder City president's daughter, become Mr. Melvin's son-in-law, and leap straight into high society? At the thought, Dolly's expression shifted from confusion to disdain. She gave a cold snort. "...Keep dreaming." "Huh? What did you say?" "Nothing." Tossing that out, Dolly turned her head away, leaving Fang Chang bewildered in turn. The two arrived at the newspaper office. The room was noisy, dark circles hanging under everyone's eyes, yet every single person was brimming with drive. They were practically euphoric. After hearing Hal's plan, the Alliance leadership had immediately approved a monthly budget of two hundred thousand chips for them. Two hundred thousand chips! And per month! When they heard the news, the editors who had once worked under Mr. House were so excited they almost forgot to breathe. The *Voice of Boulder City* didn't make that much in an entire year! Yet their new boss was willing to shell out such a massive sum every month, continuing to sponsor their cause without seeing any immediate return. With that money, they could accomplish so much! While the staff inside were discussing their next steps, the office door swung open. Seeing Fang Chang return with the thank-you letter in hand, Hal's face lit up with overjoyed delight, and he snatched the envelope over. "Wonderful! You're finally back, my friend! We were just discussing the layout for the next issue—you couldn't have arrived at a better time!" "I still don't quite get it. What does finding the bank president's daughter's cat have to do with your newspaper?" Fang Chang asked curiously, watching Hal cradle the envelope as though it were a priceless treasure. Before Hal could speak, an editor beside him beamed and piped up on his behalf, "We plan to set aside a dedicated page in the newspaper for posting commissions! How do we get people with needs to write to us? The best way, of course, is to show them results!" Another balding editor leaned in and added, "Exactly! And I'm certain that mercenaries who never cared for newspapers before will start buying our paper from now on!" "Why don't we launch a *Mercenary Daily*?" an editor chimed in. Hal's eyes gleamed, and he snapped his fingers. "Great idea!" Fang Chang cleared his throat. "If you ask me... why not serialize novels in the paper? Update five hundred words every three days, cutting off at the absolute cliffhanger every time. I guarantee your paper will sell out." Hearing that, Hal froze for a few seconds. Suddenly, the concept clicked, and a look of wild ecstasy broke across his face. "That idea is bloody brilliant! Friend, why don't you come work at the newspaper?" "Pass..." Fang Chang cleared his throat, suddenly feeling like he had offered a terrible suggestion. Still... He was genuinely curious about what kind of serialized novels these NPCs would come up with. Just then, Fang Chang's gaze landed on a recruitment flyer for reporters posted nearby, and a thought struck him. "Are you short on staff?" Seeing Fang Chang seem to reconsider, Hal's crestfallen expression instantly turned eager, and he nodded vigorously. "Of course! We need reporters, editors, everything... If you're willing to help, that would be fantastic!" "Ahem, I'm not cut out for this line of work. But I can recommend an expert. There isn't a thing in all of Boulder City she doesn't know—and even if she doesn't, I'm sure she has ways of finding out..." Saying that, Fang Chang turned toward the office doorway, looking at the short-haired girl leaning there with crossed arms and a bored expression. "What do you think of her?"