Codename: Pangolin?

An exoskeleton was convenient to put on, but taking it off was another story. After ducking into the grove of trees, Battlefield Guy wrestled with his gear for quite some time before finally stripping everything off and carrying it out to hand over to Kakarot. "Good brother, I'm entrusting my clothes to you!" Right now, he was wearing a tattered burlap sack, with another one clutched in his hand. He looked more like a scavenger than actual scavengers did, looking so destitute that Old Black almost felt an urge to pull out his wallet and hand him some cash. Kakarot, on the other hand, bluntly held out his hand. "What about your VM? Hand that over too." "Damn! How am I supposed to mark locations without my VM?" "Are you an idiot? Can't you just log off and drop pins on the official website?" Kakarot rolled his eyes. "Besides proving you're a resident of the vault, what else does wearing that thing do for you?" "Oh, right... I can just log off to report coordinates." Battlefield Atmosphere Group had an epiphany. He decisively unstrapped the VM from his arm and shoved it into Kakarot's hands. Old Black watched him with a bizarre expression until his figure disappeared into the woods. "Is this guy really going to be all right?" Kakarot grinned and patted him on the shoulder. "Who cares? It doesn't matter if something happens to the man, as long as the gear is safe. Come on, we should get moving too!" *** The group split into two paths. Kakarot and I'm the Darkest headed back toward the Storm Corps' camp in the east, while Battlefield Guy tracked the survivors' footprints, venturing northwest all on his own. The journey was far from peaceful. Perhaps his outfit was too deceptive, or perhaps because he was alone, even mutant hyenas dared to set their sights on him. Fortunately, his level had already broken through the LV20 bottleneck, and his genetic sequence had reached Stage 3. Even without firearms on him, his agile movements and makeshift weapons allowed him to easily kill two hyenas that lunged at him and frighten off the last one. "Dammit, I should have kept a dagger on me!" Looking at his hands covered in fur and blood, Battlefield Guy tossed aside the snapped branch and cursed under his breath. Only then did he realize that walking alone across the wasteland without any weapons actually looked stranger than carrying a gun. Still, it was too late to dwell on that now. Picking up another wooden stick and sharpening it into a short spear with a stone, Battlefield Guy continued following the tracks on the ground. He walked roughly ten kilometers, marching from morning straight into midday, before finally cutting through the dense forest into a relatively open area. The murmuring sound of running water drifted from not far away, and Battlefield Guy's eyes lit up. "Water!" "It must be just up ahead!" As everyone knew, the vicinity of a water source was the best place to set up camp, and the larger the force, the more upstream they would position themselves. Realizing the Legion's camp had to be nearby, Battlefield Guy was in no rush. He walked straight over to the stream, intending to rinse the sticky blood off his hands and wash his face while he was at it. However, just as he scooped up a handful of water to splash onto his face, his movements suddenly froze. *Tsk... My game character is too damn handsome. If I get close, they'll definitely spot something off.* That wouldn't do. His eyes darted as an idea struck him. Battlefield Guy let the water go, scooped up a glob of mud from the riverbank, and smeared it across his face. After rubbing it in thoroughly, he peered at his reflection in the water again and nodded in satisfaction. Not bad. Now he looked the part. Though this smell... Why did it smell so weird? Without lingering by the stream, Battlefield Guy leaned on his wooden stick and began making his way upstream, intending to locate the exact position of the camp, spot some landmark reference points nearby, and then withdraw. What he hadn't anticipated, however, was that before he even reached the camp, he bumped head-on into several black-robed soldiers carrying rifles. The other party clearly spotted him too, staring straight in his direction. His heart jumped into his throat. Battlefield Guy cursed inwardly, his fingers tightening around the stick in his hand. However— The elite mobs standing before him seemed fooled by his attire. They didn't trigger combat immediately, but merely raised their gun muzzles warily to aim at him. "Halt!" Battlefield Guy obediently stopped in his tracks. Without waiting for them to order him to disarm, he proactively threw down the sharpened stick. The soldier stared at him and demanded, "Who are you?" "I... I..." Battlefield Guy opened his mouth to answer, but his grasp of the Human Alliance language was abysmal. He only knew a handful of words in total. After wracking his brains for a while, he couldn't string together a single sentence, sweating bullets in his anxiety. Yet... It was precisely this reaction that caused the soldiers to lower their guard. Glancing with disdain at this terrified wastelander, the soldier's eyes filled with unmistakable contempt. "Scavenger?" Battlefield Guy's eyes lit up, and he nodded frantically. "Yes! Yes!" "Where did the blood on you come from?" Battlefield Guy shook the burlap sack in his hand, slowly reached inside, and pulled out the mangled mutant hyena. Seeing the wooden stick impaled in the hyena's neck, the soldiers exchanged looks, making no attempt to conceal the mockery in their expressions and words. "I told you, the survivors around here are like monkeys." "Tsk, tsk, they don't even have decent weapons. Still fighting mutants with their bare hands." "It's a wonder they're even alive." "They ought to thank us. At least we're bringing them civilization!" The lead soldier said nothing, but his suspicion was gone. Lowering his rifle muzzle, he pointed at the ground beside his feet, then gestured toward the woods behind them. "Drop your things here. You, walk forward." Although Battlefield Guy only half-understood the words, he understood the gestures perfectly well, feeling caught between laughter and tears. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He had only planned to take a look and leave, but he had ended up captured as a scavenger. The soldiers clearly had no intention of letting him go. After only half a second of hesitation, Battlefield Guy obediently dropped his belongings and submissively walked in the direction the soldier had pointed. After advancing roughly five to six hundred meters, a spacious camp gate entered his field of vision. The northern side of the camp bordered rolling hills, while a mountain stream flowed past not far to the east. The overall scale of the camp was massive, though its facilities were remarkably crude—consisting only of a perimeter of wooden palisades, a few scattered wooden watchtowers, and a few dozen tents. Black-robed soldiers stood guard and patrolled the area. Their numbers were uncertain, but judging by the look of it, there had to be at least two centuries of men. The center of the camp was a dense, dark mass of people—clearly survivors who had been rounded up and driven here. Their numbers were likewise hard to count, but an estimate put them at no fewer than five thousand. If they hadn't been gathered in one place, Battlefield Guy never would have imagined that so many survivors lived in tiny Ruigu City. Unlike him, who was empty-handed, everyone here was carrying large bundles and packs of luggage, their faces uniformly stamped with dazed confusion, terror, or numbness. Most of them had been dragged to this unfamiliar place without explanation, forced to stay alongside people they had never met before. Before Battlefield Guy could even gather his thoughts, he was nudged and prodded from behind by a soldier's rifle muzzle, shuffling dazedly toward the back of a line at the camp entrance. A desk sat at the gate, behind which sat an officer holding a fountain pen. As he scribbled on paper, he casually tossed numbered tokens to the survivors standing before him. Finally, it was Battlefield Guy's turn. The officer tapped his pen on the desk. Seeing the fool before him giving no response, he asked impatiently, "Name." Battlefield Guy understood this everyday phrase, but he obviously couldn't give his game ID; that would sound too absurd. In a moment of panic, he blurted out, "Pan... Pangolin." The officer said nothing, merely jotting down two strokes on the paper before tossing a token to him. Most wastelanders were illiterate; let alone naming themselves after animals, plenty were named after tables or stools. Battlefield Guy suspected the man hadn't even listened to what he said. Still, he didn't linger at the gate, glancing at the number on the token before walking into the camp. A crowd of people stood idly in the open area. He had no idea where to go either. Just as he was standing there at a loss, a survivor dressed similarly to him shuffled over. "Hey brother, where are you from?" Battlefield Guy made up a lie on the spot. "...Bet Street." The survivor looked utterly blank. "Bet Street? Never heard of it." "It's kind of far from here... I had bad luck and got captured too." Battlefield Guy wanted to express that, but his vocabulary was too limited. He stammered out a messy jumble of words, leaving the man bewildered, though the man simply assumed he had a stutter. "Is that so? You're really unlucky... though I'm not doing much better." The man sighed and continued, "My name is Li Ba, from Ten Trees Village... Those black-robed bastards rounded us up and brought us here without giving any reason." "I'm... called Pangolin." Battlefield Guy quickly asked about the matter he cared about most. "What do they plan to do with us?" "No idea." A clear look of distress washed over Li Ba's face. "They didn't say anything. Once we got here, they confiscated our food and two-headed oxen, claiming it was for centralized management, and then dumped us here to wait..." While they were speaking, a man with a prominent hump on the bridge of his nose walked out in front of the assembled survivors, flanked by a column of soldiers. His gaze was like a vulture's. The mere brush of his eyes caused the clamoring crowd to fall instantly silent, as if doused in freezing water. Sweeping his eyes over all the survivors present, Korwei tilted his chin slightly and spoke in a commanding tone. "As of today, the Ruigu City region has been designated an active war zone between the Legion and the Enterprise. But do not fear; the Legion will provide you with protection until the war concludes." "In exchange for being spared bloodshed, you will provide sweat and labor as compensation for our benevolence!" No one dared step forward in protest. No one dared utter a peep. Every face was painted with apprehension and dread. Only Battlefield Guy, blending in among the crowd, wore a rather bizarre expression. *Holy crap.* *These Legion folks actually bought it; they really think they're fighting the Enterprise.* *No wonder they didn't push forward even after fixing their engines. Looks like they're planning to intercept the Enterprise's reinforcements right here...* Korwei paused briefly before continuing. "My name is Korwei, and I oversee all matters here, great and small." "Standing beside me is Logistics Officer Mr. Finod. He will assign your tasks, designate your living quarters, and arrange the daily duties you must complete." The man named Finod wore a warm, gentle smile, forming a sharp contrast to Korwei's stern, intimidating presence. This made him appear quite easy to get along with, yet Battlefield Guy could sense the thinly veiled arrogance lurking in his eyes. Clearly, he didn't view the wastelanders before him as human beings, but rather as supplies, consumables, or something of that nature. Korwei turned to Finod. "Would you like to say a few words?" Finod smiled. "You go ahead. It's just the usual matters anyway." Korwei nodded and looked back toward the survivors in the camp, raising his voice. "Don't think of slacking off. Everyone here must work—no exceptions! Slackers who fail to complete their tasks will receive no food, nor will they receive any sympathy." "Furthermore, for residents who distinguish themselves, we will not only improve their treatment, but also bestow generous rewards. For example... appointing them as a decurion." Pausing, he stared into pair after pair of clouded eyes, a faint trace of mockery curling at the corner of his lips. "Or even a centurion!" *** Eastern Ruigu City. The supply convoy and over a hundred players, having marched for five full days, finally rendezvoused with Brother Spring's vanguard unit in Ruigu City. Five trucks packed to the brim with supplies finally resolved the Storm Corps' logistics troubles. The NPCs arriving alongside the players were divided into two groups: one would return to Dawn City to continue hauling supplies, while the other would remain in camp to assist the players with trenching and fortifying fixed works, such as artillery shelters, using construction materials. Dusk was approaching. Glancing at the time on his VM, Commander Spring turned to I'm the Darkest and asked, "Where the hell is that dog Battlefield? Why isn't he back yet?" I'm the Darkest said helplessly, "How should I know? He only said he'd try to get back before dark." "Looks unlikely," Kakarot said, crossing his arms and shaking his head. "It's twenty to thirty kilometers. Without an exoskeleton, running that distance takes several hours no matter what, right? Even if he found the camp before noon, he probably won't make it back until tomorrow." Commander Spring nodded. "Fair point. Leave him be for now." Kakarot looked at Spring and asked, "What about us? What do we do now?" Commander Spring knew he was asking about how to counter the Legion. After pondering for a moment, he said, "Mm... It's tricky. They gathered all the local residents in one place; we can't very well hunt scavengers out foraging for resources." It wasn't entirely out of squeamishness over moral issues; the key was that doing so would be extremely inefficient and would push the locals entirely into the Legion's camp. Suddenly, an idea struck Commander Spring. He looked up and asked, "Right, did you take photos of those destroyed camps?" Kakarot nodded. "Yeah, I took them... Why?" Commander Spring continued, "In a bit, take some men to contact the nearby survivor settlements. Show them the photos we took today and urge them to evacuate their villages to seek shelter elsewhere." Kakarot blinked, hesitating. "Will they listen to us?" Fleeing their homes was no small matter. Relying on just a few photos to convince locals to abandon lands where their families had lived for generations was a bit naive. Commander Spring said flatly, "Tell them that a hundred and fifty kilometers from here, in Qingquan City, there is a place called Dawn City. The people there are willing to provide them refuge, and once we end the war with the Legion, they can return to their homes." "Regardless of what choice they make in the end, we will have done what we can." Evacuating however many they could was better than nothing. Driving people away was far better than letting them be captured by the Legion as forced labor. After handing down the orders, Commander Spring walked over to the supply convoy and found the NPC in charge, placing a locked iron box into his hands. The box was very light, containing only a single card. That card had been personally handed to him by Sesame Paste before the White Bear Knights departed to search for the entrance to Vault 79. Supposedly, it was a crucial quest item that might alter the course of the war, and she had asked him to make sure it reached the Administrator's hands. Commander Spring himself certainly couldn't leave the frontline, and every player in the corps had been assigned specific duties. The only ones he could entrust with this were these NPC soldiers. Though they were logistical personnel, their loyalty was unquestionable. In fact, calling it loyalty was an understatement; it had become an article of faith. "We have a wounded soldier of special status here who needs you to escort him back to Dawn City... And this box—make sure it is placed directly into the Administrator's hands!" Hearing Commander Spring's instructions, the logistics officer gave a solemn nod, took the box, and pressed his right fist against his chest. "Mission guaranteed!" Commander Spring nodded back at him, tapping his right fist against his chest in return. "For the Alliance!" *** Official forums. Today was as lively as ever. The news here was far more explosive than anything in the *Survivor Daily*, with players from the Storm Corps delivering firsthand battle reports every few days. From where they ambushed another Legion patrol, to how many enemies they killed, to how much gear they seized, onlookers devoured the updates with relish. Of course... What delighted players and forum lurkers most of all was the intelligence brought back by Brother Battlefield... "Breaking news! The Legion has established a new base near Falling Leaves Ridge on the northwest side of Ruigu City called Falling Leaves Camp!" Commander Spring: "Holy shit, you finally popped up!" I'm the Darkest: "We thought you died out there." Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "Heh, had a bit of an accident. I originally planned to just take a peek and leave, but as luck would have it, I bumped head-on into a Legion patrol... Anyway, by the time I realized what was happening, I was already inside the camp." Battlefield Guy was too embarrassed to mention that he had spent the entire afternoon peeling potatoes; it was simply too humiliating. Fortunately, the Legion hadn't discovered that he was an Awakened, nor did they suspect a mute who couldn't even speak properly. Instead, an NPC cook had lavished praise on his potato-peeling speed, commending him for doing three times the work of other laborers, and had transferred him from the laborers' communal bunkhouse to a four-person room next to the kitchen, assigning him to peel potatoes full-time. Kakarot: "Holy shit?!" Broken Leg Kevin: "There's perks like that?!" Ye Shi: "Good lord... I call that a masterclass." Canyon Escape Mole: "How many people are inside?" Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "Not too many, probably around five or six thousand. Most are locals captured by the Legion from nearby survivor settlements." Indebted Big Eye: "Can't wrap my head around it. What does the Legion want with gathering all those survivors together?" Lightning King Professor Yang: "That's where you're clueless. Population is a resource in itself—zero maintenance costs, zero tech required, work half a day on a bowl of rice. What machine is as useful as a human? (Grin)" Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "Pretty much. The Legion organized some people to hunt, some to scavenge, and others to grow ram horn potatoes and feed the cattle... Most of the goods produced here are supplied to that airship, and the survivors are only fed nutrient paste. Dammit, that stuff tastes god-awful. I swear it feels like it has pebbles or sawdust mixed into it." Elaina: "Are you sure it's sawdust and not bone shards? (Smirk)" Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "Holy fuck! Don't say that, I'm gonna puke! (Barf)" Elven King Fugui: "Look on the bright side, bro. That's just a hypothesis; maybe it's wild berries, tree bark, or mutated creatures. (Smirk)" Canyon Escape Mole: "Feels like the Legion's scheming something big." Fang Chang: "I get that feeling too... Looks like they plan to prop up a local proxy faction as their pawn in the River Valley Province, just like they did in the Sunset Province." Teng Teng: "Sunset Province? 0.0" Fang Chang: "Yeah, I talked about this with Hal, the newspaper director from the Sunset Province. The Falcon Kingdom in the Sunset Province is the Legion's vassal state east of the Great Desert." Commander Spring: "Regardless, the Legion has adapted to our guerrilla tactics. We need to adjust our approach accordingly." Brother Edge: "Speaking of which, what about Boulder City? Any reaction there?" Fang Chang: "Of course there is, though I can't tell if it's war fervor or pure panic. Anyway, after that day, I saw a ton of munitions shipped to the northern outskirts. The Alliance leadership must have struck some kind of deal with Boulder City's top brass... Just my guess." Brother Edge: "Sigh, if only the Enterprise folks had left a couple days later." The thread rapidly grew by thousands of replies as everyone chimed in. In particular, upon hearing that the officer named Korwei had promised that those with outstanding contributions would be appointed decurions or even centurions, many meddlesome onlookers began urging Battlefield Guy to perform well and strive to become a "collaborator chieftain." Sitting before his computer, Chu Guang was equally astonished. *Holy hell.* *Did he just infiltrate the Legion's inner ranks?* "Xiao Qi." "What is it, Master?" Xiao Qi tilted its head as it sat on the desk. "Can we bridge the quest interface with the official forum accounts?" Chu Guang thought for a moment before describing his idea. "In simple terms, let players check their quests through their forum accounts even when they're outside the game." He had wanted to do this before, but without an immediate need and having been busy lately, it had slipped his mind. Hearing Chu Guang's request, Xiao Qi nodded energetically. "No problem! That's super easy, leave it to Xiao Qi!" Bridging two existing systems was indeed trivial for it; setting up a data sync on the server was all it took. In less than a minute, the software update was complete. Now, players could not only check quest progress on the official website, but could also accept new quests there. Resting his right hand on the mouse, Chu Guang browsed Xiao Qi's masterpiece, a faint smile creeping onto his face. Not bad. The players gained convenience, and he gained convenience in ordering the players around. Without a doubt, this was a win-win improvement. *I'm a goddamn genius!* *** Meanwhile, in a bedroom in a parallel world. A certain someone sitting before his computer with a goofy grin, watching the reply count skyrocket, suddenly sat bolt upright in his chair and let out an odd cry. "Holy crap?! That works too?!" Just now, Battlefield Atmosphere Group had noticed a little red notification dot appear in the user info tab in the top right corner of the official website. Clicking it out of curiosity, he found it was a quest log! "When the hell did this update drop?" Battlefield Guy wore a look of pure bewilderment, but after a couple of mouse clicks, that bewilderment quickly transformed into wild ecstasy. In the past, this damned game wouldn't even let you do quests without the VM system. Now, the dog devs had finally compromised on realism—players could not only view quest progress on the website, but could even see newly triggered quests! This was bloody amazing! [Quest 1: Infiltrate Falling Leaves Camp and gather intelligence on the Legion's movements. Reward will be determined by the value and accuracy of the intel.] [Quest 2 (Optional): Infiltrate the management of Falling Leaves Camp and earn the Legion's trust.] [Quest 3 (Optional): ...] Looking at the line of fresh, thrilling quests, Battlefield Guy could hardly wait. He tabbed out of the page and excitedly dashed over to the forum to create a new thread announcing the good news. "Bros! The dog devs updated the game!!!" *** With players across the forum feeding Battlefield Guy terrible ideas to flesh out his undercover persona, Chu Guang figured he wouldn't need to worry too much. Planting an informant in the Legion's camp was merely an experiment; the outcome of the war would ultimately be decided on the battlefield. Chu Guang never pinned his hopes for victory on a single piece of equipment or one or two individuals, though he didn't rule out the possibility that Brother Battlefield might bring him an unexpected surprise. What if? What if he actually became a collaborator chief and successfully gained the Legion's trust? Though the probability was virtually zero, it wasn't entirely impossible. In any case, with Brother Spring commanding the frontlines, Chu Guang had designated Ruigu City as a war zone and entrusted him with full authority over all matters within it. Countless prior battles had already proven this player's command and organizational skills. Chu Guang was confident he could plan the placement of every single machine gun position without needing micromanagement. All he needed to do on his end was manage logistics and ensure the front had ample ammunition; Brother Spring would naturally deliver a satisfactory result. By comparison, Chu Guang was more concerned with another squad currently on a mission. Three days ago, the White Bear Knights had departed from the forward operating base, venturing deep into the urban ruins of Ruigu City to search for the entrance to Vault 79. Judging by Sisi's ongoing thread updates on the forum, their "treasure hunt" seemed to have made new progress...