That Airship Ought to Be Worth a Fortune, Right?

Eighty kilometers east of Ruigu City. The Enterprise expedition team's camp. A rolling rumble of dull thunder drifted from the distance, prompting the soldiers from the East Coast to pause their work and look toward the west. "What was that sound?" "Thunder?" "Doesn't sound like it..." "Sounds like something blew up." "Strange. Back in Dawn City, I asked around among the caravans coming from the west, and I didn't hear anything about fighting nearby." The soldiers muttered among themselves. At the entrance of the tent in the center of the camp, Logistics Officer Hedin stood beside Captain Yun Song, looking slightly tense. Having traveled far and wide across the wasteland, his instinct for danger was extraordinarily keen. He knew very well that the noise was definitely not thunder. "Was that a nuke just now?" Yun Song's brow creased slightly. "Hard to say." Nuclear weapons were not particularly terrifying in their eyes; they were merely cost-effective ordnance, and weapons of far greater destructive power were commonplace across the wasteland. What truly caught his attention was the sheer power behind that sound. Based on his experience, the explosive yield was at least ten tons. Whether it was a nuclear device or not, that level of destructive force was enough to put them on alert. Yet what puzzled them was that, according to the intel they had gathered in Dawn City, there should not be any other regional powerhouse between Qingquan City and Sunset Province to the east. At most, there were only scattered settlements of minor survivors. Though not insignificant in population, those settlements clearly lacked the capacity to produce a weapon of such magnitude. Hedin lowered his voice. "I suggest we alter our course. Before entering Sunset Province, we should avoid getting involved in regional conflicts if at all possible..." Yun Song pondered for a moment and nodded. "Agreed." ... Northwest of Ruigu City. The encampment directly beneath the Heart of Iron. Sitting inside his tent, Rachel's expression was as dark as the storm clouds rolling outside. His fists clenched in fury, especially upon learning that Vito—the finest hunter under his command—had fallen in battle, and had suffered the humiliation of dying under enemy artillery fire. "These scurrying vermin..." Once he caught those bastards, he swore he would subject them to the cruellest tortures imaginable, bleeding them of their very last drop of blood before allowing them to take their final breath. Just then, the tent flap lifted. A guard stepped inside and snapped a military salute, interrupting his thoughts. "Sir, an officer from the general staff is outside." Rachel froze slightly at the words. Only after three or four long seconds did he slowly speak. "Send him in." "Yes, sir!" Watching the guard turn and leave, Rachel let out a quiet sigh after a long silence, gradually easing the tension in his rigid shoulders. The parachute had not been found. The half-dead Enterprise employee had escaped. Not only that, but his side had lost two marine squads in succession, along with a scout fireteam composed of three Awakened. What the general staff intended to do by sending someone over at this hour was all too obvious. The flap lifted once more. An officer in a crisp, sharp uniform walked in from outside. Rachel noticed that he had met this man earlier during the day. Unlike before, however, the officer's expression and demeanor were visibly far more solemn. Knowing full well that the officer was likely here to hold him accountable, Rachel kept his mouth shut, quietly awaiting his sentence. Yet, to Rachel's utter astonishment, no demotion came. Instead, he heard an entirely unexpected arrangement... "General Macklen has appointed you as the commander of ground operations. Tomorrow morning, we will deploy additional ground forces." "Until the deployment order is revoked, this force will be under your sole command." Stunned disbelief immediately surfaced in Rachel's eyes. Seeming to anticipate his surprise, the staff officer continued, "According to the staff's assessment, the Enterprise employee we are pursuing is suspected to have rendezvoused with Enterprise reinforcements. All indications suggest that the unidentified force that ambushed our patrols tonight belongs to the Enterprise!" "The losses of the 29th and 31st Marine Units are not your fault; an intelligence failure on our part regarding the region led to this unfortunate outcome." "Captain Macklen expects you to perform admirably, wash away this disgrace in our enemy's blood, and avenge the brothers who fell tonight!" The astonishment vanished from Rachel's gaze. He drew a deep breath and said resolutely, "I will." "Prove it with your actions. The captain awaits your good news." Leaving behind those words, the staff officer did not linger and cleanly turned on his heel to exit the tent. Staring straight at the tent flap, Rachel clenched his fists tight, then slowly released them. A fierce fighting spirit ignited in his eyes as he chewed over those words again and again, as if grinding them between his teeth. "I will!" ... The roaring wildfire raged throughout the night, only dying down as dawn broke. Yet the Legion's fury had not subsided in the slightest. The total annihilation of two marine squads had pushed the Heart of Iron to its highest state of readiness. And that thunderous artillery strike kept the survivors across the entire Ruigu City area awake through the night. At daybreak, the unrest was far from over. The Heart of Iron continued to drop military materiel to the ground. The deployment scale had already reached a full cohort of one thousand men, while the field fortifications under construction were being built to accommodate three cohorts. Over a dozen marine squads were dispatched into the eastern suburbs to sweep the area, hunting for the three girls with two bears and the mortar position that had shelled their patrol the previous night. According to the soldiers who had made it back alive, the force that ambushed them numbered at least a company of a hundred men and was equipped with highly advanced mechanical exoskeletons. Without a doubt, those were Enterprise reinforcements! General Macklen, however, was unfazed. What if they were Enterprise reinforcements? They were nothing more than a bunch of soft cowards. This was the perfect chance to wipe them all out in one sweep! At the same time, under the direction of the airship's general staff, Ground Commander Rachel began sending "armed emissaries" to the surrounding regions. Using the terror lingering from last night's bombardment, they intended to deliver General Macklen's decree to the neighboring survivor settlements— Submit. Or perish! ... Meanwhile, to the east of Ruigu City. In a mountainous area roughly five kilometers from the blast center, more than twenty players from the Storm Corps were resting and regrouping. Day had not yet fully broken, and a hazy gray light hung over the distant horizon. Although someone had suggested setting up camp further away, Brother Spring argued that the place appearing most dangerous was often the safest. Once daylight came, the Legion would likely send search parties eastward, but they were unlikely to focus their efforts near the blast site. Moreover, the terrain here was elevated, offering an expansive line of sight. Even if trouble arose, they could relocate in plenty of time. After a grueling forced march of over thirty hours followed by a clash with a Legion patrol, even if the players' iron-willed bodies could take it, their equipment could not. Most players found the power reserves in their exoskeletons completely drained. Fortunately, Tail's truck was equipped with a wood-fired generator. The discarded exoskeletons formed a long queue beside the vehicle. Kakarot led several Strength-type players into the nearby forest to chop firewood, while several Agility-type players helped prepare rations for everyone. Rou Rou carried Teddy—who would never wake again—up into the nearby mountains, looking for a spot beyond the reach of scavengers to bury him. Tail and Sesame Paste accompanied her. Sisi wanted to go along as well, but her injuries were too severe, leaving her with no choice but to remain at camp. Finding a quiet, empty corner, she used the medical tools from the truck to perform minor surgery on herself, extracting the bullet lodged in her body. Her clumsy technique left the ground spattered with blood, but after fumbling around for a while, she achieved her goal. "Done!" Looking at the deformed bullet clamped in her tweezers, Sisi let out a long breath and tossed it into an aluminum tin as a souvenir. While Constitution-type players regenerated far faster than ordinary humans, they had not reached the level of mutants whose flesh healed before one's very eyes. A simple suture and bandage would speed up the recovery process. Sisi estimated that by this time tomorrow, she would be able to fight alongside her companions once more. Sewing up the wound, she unwrapped a fresh roll of bandages, admired her handiwork with satisfaction, and returned to the truck. Breakfast would take a little longer. Kakarot and his team had just returned with firewood, fueling the stove and the generator. The other players sat in a circle, most of them yawning from sheer exhaustion. Only Brother Spring, standing in the middle, looked full of energy as he laid out his operational plan to everyone. "...An airship can store massive supplies, but their stock isn't limitless! For a force thousands strong, think about how much food they shovel down every day—hell, the crap they produce alone could fill an entire truck!" I'm the Darkest shouted, "What the hell, man, do you have to bring that up right before breakfast?" Commander Spring grinned. "Just making a point!" "The Heart of Iron has dropped its anchor chains. If they're planning on staying for months, they'll inevitably have to forage and extract supplies locally—whether by bribing with dinars or compelling people by force." "And that gives us an opportunity!" Looking at the gathered players with glowing eyes, he continued, "We need to distinguish between those who've been bought off and those who've been coerced, and then win over the ones we can!" Sisi thought for a moment before speaking up. "But how many survivor settlements actually dare to resist the Legion?" Commander Spring smiled faintly. "We don't need them to openly take a stand. We can handle the hard fighting." "All we need is for them to offer a tiny bit of help within their capabilities!" Even if it was just passing along the locations of Legion patrols. Even if it was just warning them when the requisition convoys were due to arrive. A flicker of understanding crossed Battlefield Guy's eyes. "I get it. Guerrilla warfare, right?" "Bingo!" Commander Spring nodded approvingly and continued, "The Legion will most likely approach the nearby settlements during the day, so we'll do the exact opposite—we'll visit them at night!" "After we finish breakfast, everyone log off to refresh your status. We can keep fleshing out the battle plan in the group chat." With that, he turned to Sisi and smiled. "Hey buddy, mind watching our bodies while we're offline?" Sisi chuckled softly. "No problem at all. Tail and I will keep watch." She had rested in the truck earlier, lowering her fatigue meter, so she wasn't particularly sleepy right now. Once Tail and the others returned, they could take turns sleeping. Brother Spring cupped his hands with a smile. "Awesome! Thanks, leave it to you!" ... Most of the players who had arrived in Ruigu City alongside Brother Spring were full-time gamers. Even the few who weren't had very flexible schedules; otherwise, they never could have pulled off the crazy feat of a thirty-plus-hour forced march. After a hearty meal, everyone agreed on a time to log back on, found an out-of-the-way spot to lie down, and logged out of the game. As for their gear and avatars, Sisi was there to watch over them. The White Bear Knights were members of the Storm Corps to begin with, and they had been gaming companions for several game versions, so trust was never an issue. After logging off, Commander Spring pinged everyone in the Storm Corps guild chat, dividing the twenty-odd players who had arrived first into three teams. Team A was composed primarily of Agility-type and Perception-type players, tasked with scouting the surrounding terrain. Team B consisted mainly of players capable of basic dialogue with NPCs, assigned to gather intelligence on nearby survivor settlements. As for Team C, it was made up of Battlefield Atmosphere Group and a few other trigger-happy combat enthusiasts, who would continue westward to hunt and ambush Legion patrols. The body count wasn't the critical factor. The primary goal was to create constant harassment, strategically disrupting the enemy's vision and confusing them regarding the players' numbers and positions. As for searching for the entrance to Vault 79, Brother Spring planned to hand that assignment to Tail's group once they were back online. On one hand, he could tell Tail seemed genuinely enthusiastic about treasure hunting; on the other hand, given that they lacked high-tier equipment, high-tempo mobile operations would be too grueling for them. In this game, fighting with an exoskeleton versus without one were two entirely different ballgames. It had nothing to do with competence; it was simply a matter of suitability. ... When the morning sun cast its rays across the land of River Valley Province, Boulder City, situated on the edge of Qingquan City's Third Ring Road, was a picture of peace and tranquility. No matter how powerful the 400mm main gun was, its shockwaves could never reach this far. Unless— Someone intended to pour fuel on the fire. "Extra! Read all about it!" Running through the streets and alleys of Boulder City with canvas bags in hand, paperboys delivered newly printed special editions to the taverns and grocery shops partnered with *Survivor Daily*, while also slipping copies through the shop windows and door cracks of subscribers. The special extra edition was only a single page. The photograph printed upon it was a continuation of the morning's front-page headline. A colossal crater scarred the mountain valley, a world-shattering shockwave had leveled an entire forest, and the fiery crimson flames resembled a boiling mushroom cloud. Beneath the photograph was a line of thought-provoking text: *The Heart of Iron's 400mm Main Gun! Just Six Shells Are Enough to Level the Entire Outer City!* It was, of course, an exaggerated comparison. Yet with that comparison drawn, the onlookers, who previously had little concept of its power, instantly grasped just how terrifying this weapon was. Inside the Gray Squirrel Clothing Store. Sitting behind the counter, Sier tilted back in his chair with his furry arms resting on his protruding belly, holding a fresh, warm newspaper in his hands. His reason for subscribing to *Survivor Daily* was simple: he mainly wanted to look at the advertisements to see what new fashion trends were emerging in Dawn City. However, the occasional news articles printed inside interested him as well. While Mr. House's radio broadcasts pumped people full of adrenaline, that man's voice was like spirit leaf—good for a quick buzz, but completely devoid of substance. *Survivor Daily* was different. It carried all kinds of news, covering not only events inside Boulder City but occasionally reporting on happenings in the outside world. "...Ruigu City. I feel like I've heard that name somewhere." Hearing Sier's quiet mutter, his old friend Robo, who was browsing through the store, casually replied, "Of course you've heard of it. It's at the southeastern corner of River Valley Province, the western gateway to the Southern Corridor. Most caravans passing through Boulder City go through there." "Right, that's the place!" Surprise flared in Sier's eyes as he straightened up in his chair. "How bizarre. What is the Legion doing out there? Shouldn't they be up north giving the Great Rift Valley trouble?" "The Legion?!" Robo's index finger stopped stroking the "artwork." He shifted his eyes away from the mannequin's legs, turned to look at Sier behind the counter, and couldn't help asking, "What kind of nonsense are you spouting? What would the Legion be doing here?" He operated Queen of the Night, the most famous tavern in Boulder City. It was not only a renowned den of indulgence, but also a bustling hub where all kinds of intelligence converged. Not only did aristocrats from the Inner City come to his establishment for amusement, but mercenaries who had struck it rich were more than happy to shower him with their chips. Aside from White Shark at the Pirate Bay Bar, no one was better informed than him. "Happened just this morning. Take a look yourself." Sier thrust the newspaper along with the freshly delivered extra into his old friend's hands. "This photo can't be fake, can it?" Snatching the paper, Robo scanned it rapidly, his eyes widening until they were as big as chips. "The Heart of Iron?! Wait, I think I've heard of that thing!" Sier looked at him with curiosity. "Where did you hear about it?" His face painted with disbelief, Robo spoke rapidly. "From a caravan coming from the west! Just two months ago! They said the Legion had established a foothold in an oasis where the sun sets, and floating above their heads was an iron fortress... Damn it, I thought the guy was full of shit!" A 400mm main gun that incinerated everything... With a bore that large, you could stuff a grown man inside! Imagining the scene, Robo couldn't help but draw his neck in. He truly dared not imagine what it would look like if that monstrosity flew right to their doorstep. "Don't worry too much. The Castellan certainly won't let it fly over here," Sier said with an odd expression, watching his friend's exaggerated reaction, though he still offered some comfort. "Hard to say... Last year, someone—either the Legion or the Enterprise—dropped a nuke in Yumu District up north, and in the end, it just blew over with nothing done about it," Robo complained. Hopefully someone would handle this mess. Right, weren't there those meddlesome folks up north? Xizhou City was roughly a hundred kilometers from here; Ruigu City was probably a bit further, but not by much. At least Boulder City had its Great Wall mounted with heavy stationary weapons, while those people had nothing but vast stretches of farmland. They had to do something, right? Compared to the obnoxious Legion, those bumpkins were naturally far more endearing. A look of worry crept onto Robo's face. Could they win? ... Robo was not the only one harboring such concerns. Nearly every wasteland wanderer holding a copy of *Survivor Daily* shared almost the exact same thought. Not everyone cared whether those country bumpkins in the northern suburbs lived or died. Yet none of them were naive enough to believe that the Heart of Iron's firing range was short by a mere dozen kilometers, or that it would conveniently spare them. At that moment, Boulder City's City Hall was a beehive of activity. Chief Dulong had already convened three meetings in a row, not only summoning representatives from the bank, but also calling in the director of *Survivor Daily*. While one couldn't say they were in total chaos, they were, at the very least, completely panicked. Unlike ordinary residents, they worried not only about the safety of the survivor settlement, but even more so about the two hundred million chips they had just loaned out! What did two hundred million mean? Boulder City's Outer City was home to roughly five hundred thousand residents. Excluding mercenaries and merchants, the average income was around one hundred chips. In other words, even if every laborer in Boulder City worked their screws until their wrenches smoked, it would take them three to four months to earn that much money! True, the funds were not directly in the hands of the Alliance; they sat in an escrow account held by Boulder City Bank. But the problem was that the Alliance had already used those chips to place massive orders with their factories and merchant caravans! Nearly every factory across Boulder City was scrambling to secure loans, hire workers, and expand production, busting their backs for those two hundred million chips. The industrial furnaces burned furiously, fueling a boom never seen before! Having tasted the sweetness of this boom, neither Boulder City Bank nor City Hall was willing to see the buds of this "economic recovery" snuffed out. Such a disaster could not be allowed to happen! "That idiot Jaeger actually proposed terminating the loan! How could we possibly halt something of this scale on a whim?! Good thing the Chief stood by my side..." After a full day of meetings, Melvin returned to his manor thoroughly exhausted. Handing his coat to his wife, he grumbled endlessly. To ensure that the paupers who owed him money could smoothly repay their debts, he worried himself sick every single day. Taking his coat, his wife planted a kiss on his cheek and comforted him gently. "Perhaps you need to rest for a few days." "Darling, I wish I could, but there's a mountain of trouble..." Melvin sighed and sank into the plush sofa. Right then, he suddenly noticed the newspaper on the coffee table. His brow, which had relaxed slightly, furrowed tightly once more. "Survivor Daily... We subscribe to this trash now?" Rubbing the space between his brows, Melvin felt a headache coming on the moment he saw that paper. "I subscribed to it! I saw so many things in there that I've never seen before, like nutrient paste—they say it's what wastelanders eat..." Sitting down beside her father, Alisa blinked curiously. "Can we buy some? I want to see what it's like." "You wouldn't be interested in that stuff. It tastes like... like fermented vomit, barely a step up from unpalatable tree bark," Melvin said, grasping for a vivid analogy. He found the thought repulsive himself, which he figured ought to quench his daughter's curiosity. Alisa asked, "Tree bark?" "Yes. If someone is so lazy that they can't even scrape together a single chip, they have no choice but to chew on that stuff. Though nutrient paste is cheap enough—usually a kilogram only sells for... Why am I even telling you this?" Melvin stroked his youngest daughter's head, saying dotingly, "You don't need to know about such things." Of his two sons, one had moved to the Inner City, while the other had joined a reputable caravan to travel the East Coast. His two older daughters were already married, leaving this little one as the apple of his eye. His wife frowned. "...Make sure you don't bring that sort of thing into this house." "I know," Melvin said, wrapping an arm around his wife's shoulders with an appeasing smile. "I was just explaining some basic facts to our little girl..." "Basic facts that are entirely unnecessary," his wife said, eyeing her husband with a hint of reproach. "You spoil Alisa far too much. I've never approved of her subscribing to that paper. With so many books in our study, why on earth must she read the crude scribblings of wastelanders?" Melvin offered a dry laugh. "I'll talk to her." In truth, he didn't care much for *Survivor Daily* either, mainly because he didn't believe those "amateurs" could write anything of real value. Although his office had a subscription, he merely had his secretary skim it for him. This time, however, *Survivor Daily*'s headline had caught him completely off guard. The Legion's airship had flown straight into River Valley Province, and if not for that eccentric writer who had come from the neighboring province to pen articles here, they would likely still be entirely in the dark. Just like the last time the Pioneer arrived: a tactical nuke had gone off before their venerable Castellan finally sent someone over to take a belated look. Alisa gazed into her father's eyes and suddenly said thoughtfully, "...You know, Father, we can't truly isolate ourselves from the wasteland. The prosperity of the Ideal City is enviable, but we aren't them after all." Melvin looked at his daughter in surprise, startled to hear such words from her lips. "Where did you hear that?" "From the newspaper. But I think it makes a lot of sense." Looking at the daughter gazing up at him, Melvin reflected for a moment before speaking. "You're right. Not only do I know it, Dulong knows it too, and even Jaeger... that uncle of yours who doesn't seem very bright knows it as well. But there are many, many complicated reasons behind this. It's an issue that dates back a very long time." Alisa blinked. "If it dates back so long, why not start changing it now?" Ruffling his daughter's head, Melvin chuckled with amused warmth and spoke gently. "Because our abilities are limited. Each generation has its own tasks. All your father can do is ensure you live a slightly better life, so you don't have to sell your soul for tomorrow's lunch like those wastelanders, or get into brawls over a bottle of watered-down beer." He had no intention of breaking the unspoken understanding that had stood for two centuries. The root of Boulder City's prosperity was identical to that of the Ideal City; after all, they had followed the Enterprise's model, merely making minor adaptations. They possessed formidable military strength, and like the Enterprise, they steered clear of the wasteland's mess, focusing solely on ensuring outsiders didn't cause trouble on their home turf. Survivor settlements throughout southern River Valley Province and even neighboring Jinchuan Province—slavers and merchants alike—looked up to them as a model to emulate. Just as Boulder City looked up to the utopia on the East Coast. Now, however, trouble had arrived at their doorstep after all. The Legion's airship had flown right to their threshold. Those high-bridged brutes were every bit as savage and uncouth as the rumors claimed, baring their fangs without the slightest pretense. He had no doubt that those men would covet Boulder City's prosperity. At the thought, Melvin felt a deep sense of powerlessness. Even as the wealthiest man in this city, he had no way to persuade the great Castellan to dispatch the military to act on behalf of everyone's interests. When all was said and done, he was merely a beneficiary of the rules. And that man was the one who made the rules. A man who had lived for God knew how many years, colder, more obstinate, and more inscrutable than everyone Melvin had ever known combined. Melvin couldn't help but fantasize. If only there were a win-win solution that could shield them from this trouble, or drive that airship away. Just then, a mutually beneficial—or rather, insane—thought suddenly popped into his head. Since loaning a sum of money to those blue jackets could revive factories on the brink of collapse, why not loan them another sum as military funds and egg them on to fight? That airship... It ought to be worth a fortune, right? Moreover, with those blue jackets' bleeding-heart do-gooder tendencies, the moment they saw the gaunt, starving survivors in that region, there was no way they could leave them to their fate. When the time came, they would surely pave roads and build houses for them again. "Ruigu City, the western gateway to the Southern Corridor... That place has vastly more potential than Xizhou City." Muttering under his breath, Melvin's eyes grew brighter and brighter, and he suddenly leaped up from the sofa, brimming with excitement. "Father?" Alisa tilted her head, confused by his sudden reaction. Melvin laughed aloud, so delighted he could have scooped his daughter up and kissed her. "My dear Alisa, you're absolutely right! We do need a little change..." "At the very least, a little flexibility!"