An SSSR-Tier Mount—Selling It by the Jin Isn't Unreasonable, Right?

"You have already obtained authorization for the blast doors... Ah, so it seems the 'traitor' outside is completely dead." A laugh like sandpaper grinding against concrete rasped from the rotting, wood-like torso. Sprawled within the hall, the Mother Deathclaw gazed at the players standing before her, speaking in a thoroughly relaxed tone. Surprisingly, despite using the word "traitor" to refer to Yong Shi, there was little hatred of betrayal in her voice. She had lived for more than a century, perhaps even longer. Across the vast river of time, she had witnessed far too many births and deaths, and had long since made peace with the past. Tail tilted her head, asking in confusion, "Traitor?" "That happened over a century ago. Our past holds enough material for a television series hundreds of hours long... You wouldn't find it interesting," the Mother Deathclaw said at a measured pace. "If you're talking about the fellow who called himself Yong Shi... I did take him out," Sisi said, glancing down at the VM on her forearm. "Also, by the time I realized it, the administrator clearance was already transferred to me... I'd like to know, is this clearance bound to the VM?" After she killed Yong Shi, a special signal bar had suddenly appeared in the upper right corner of her VM. Connecting to it had unlocked functions tied to the shelter's systems. This included opening and closing corridor doors. It included adjusting the ventilation systems of various sectors. It even included the surveillance feeds from each room. It was practically like a console in an RPG, to the point that she had briefly wondered if she'd found a bug and inadvertently unlocked "developer mode." Yet after experimenting a bit, she quickly discovered the clearance wasn't quite as miraculous as she had imagined. At the very least, it wasn't game-breaking. Complex functions were difficult to execute through the VM alone. It likely required pairing with other terminals featuring richer user interfaces or auxiliary smart hardware. Otherwise, even with clearance, one could only perform a handful of the most basic operations. Furthermore, the clearance was transferable. Cross-referencing this with the quest "Obtain Administrator Clearance for Shelter 79" in her log, she figured that once they secured full authorization, the esteemed Lord Shuguang would probably take the administrator rights away. After all, by design, shelters served as public respawn points for players. From that standpoint alone, it was virtually impossible that management rights over a shelter would be left in players' hands. Still, having such a novel experience was quite fun. In response to the girl's question, the Mother Deathclaw answered in a casual tone. "To be precise, shelter clearance is bound to vital signs. A set of biometric signatures with multi-element cross-verification is the true key... The VM is merely the terminal device through which you interface with the shelter's system." "VMs, bionic chips... Most hardware equipped with biometric recognition can serve as a conduit to link with the shelter's network." "I see." Sisi nodded thoughtfully and followed up, "Then... can shelter clearance be inherited by whoever kills the administrator?" The Mother Deathclaw pulled her lips back in a grin. "You misunderstand the protocol. The precise explanation is that when the clearance holder's life signal vanishes from the sensor range without a designated successor, administrator clearance falls to the nearest terminal bearer." "Your VM is one such terminal, and your vital signs are recorded upon it. Even though you are not on Shelter 79's resident registry... in principle, you qualify as a shelter resident." The rule sounded somewhat convoluted. Still, Sisi tried to wrap her head around it. Put simply, if there was no designated heir, whoever's VM was closest at the moment of death inherited the clearance... What kind of battle royale mechanic was that? Sensing the strange expression in Sisi's eyes, the Mother Deathclaw offered a faint smile and continued nonchalantly. "I know what you're thinking. Such a rule naturally has loopholes. In the absence of an assignable successor, the exact scenario you described occurs... the administrator's clearance is claimed by the killer." "Though the first-generation administrator designated me as his successor in his final moments, perhaps out of distrust toward me, or perhaps for other reasons, he did not hand over full authority. Instead, he split the clearance into multiple fragments and established rules of inheritance." "He wished for us to decide our own destiny, including whether our experiment should continue." "Yet ironically, despite all his foresight and precautions, reality proved it was entirely meaningless. The thing he feared most still came to pass. Before we could cultivate a morally flawless leader, we first unlocked the power to spawn demons..." Here, the Mother Deathclaw paused and lowered her voice. "I will transfer the shelter's clearance to you... But before that, would you grant me one small wish?" While there were more direct solutions—such as simply putting her down—the quest hadn't instructed them to kill this one. Sisi asked bluntly, "What wish?" If it wasn't too much trouble, she didn't mind obliging. "I wish to see your administrator, merely to satisfy my curiosity. A video call would suffice... You should be capable of that." Sisi nodded. "That's a reasonable request. I'll pass it along to him." ... "A deathclaw two stories tall... Unbelievable! You slaughtered such an extraordinary specimen? I mean, before killing it... couldn't you have let me study it first?" Shelter 404. Floor B4's library—or rather, Chu Guang's office. Upon hearing what had transpired at Shelter 79, Heya's eyes went wide with shock. However, the reason for her shock seemed somewhat different from that of an ordinary woman her age. Having patiently endured the complaints of the "Alliance's Chief Biologist," Chu Guang closed the file he had just compiled and sighed. "Aren't the evolved organisms in Qingquan City enough for you to study?" While the players were clearing Shelter 79, Chu Guang, acting as the game's planner, had hardly been sitting idle. Although he wasn't on the front lines, he had been tracking their progress the entire time. From the laboratory logs recovered by the players to the guide posts, lore analyses, and disaster speculations compiled on the forums, he had Xiao Qi organize everything into archives, creating both digital and physical copies to be cataloged in Shelter 404's servers and library. Though the project had ultimately failed, it still represented an effort by the people of that era to save their civilization. Once all of this was over and the ruined civilization stepped into a new era, he would donate these records to a museum for posterity to judge. To Chu Guang's remark, Heya retorted flatly, "Of course it's not enough! The mutation of the slime mold isn't an isolated phenomenon; it's the combined outcome of interactions with the external environment. Evolved organisms are merely a subset of a colossal system. To understand the whole, we need far more leads..." Listening to Heya drone on, Chu Guang pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a slight headache coming on. Ever since coming to this world... He increasingly felt that his nine years of compulsory education and seven years of higher education were nowhere near sufficient. "Sorry, I didn't quite catch all that... Could you put it more simply?" Stopping mid-sentence, Heya let out a soft sigh and paused before continuing. "...In short, researching non-slime-mold mutants and researching mutant slime molds can mutually inform one another... Do you understand when I put it that way?" Though he still had only a partial grasp of it, it was far better than before. Seeing Chu Guang nod thoughtfully, Heya couldn't help grumbling another complaint. "...And yet, such a flawless research specimen—a living fossil surviving for over a century—was right in front of you, and you actually killed it." What a waste! An absolute travesty! Looking at Heya's indignant expression, Chu Guang smiled faintly and spoke. "That thing was too dangerous. Keeping it might have had some utility, but we couldn't bear the risk of it losing control. That's why I ordered it eliminated." He paused, then added, "As for the specimen you mentioned, there's no need to worry. We only killed the mother that couldn't be controlled. There's another one inside Shelter 79." Heya's eyes instantly flared like lamps, and both her hands slammed onto the desk. "Really?!" Meeting her burning gaze, Chu Guang leaned back slightly and gave a gentle nod. "Yes... And her identity caught me completely off guard. Who would have thought the Great Horned Deer God actually existed? I always assumed it was just a myth." The administrator of Shelter 79 had somehow become the spiritual pillar of the wastelanders in River Valley Province. While it sounded bizarre, it wasn't hard to comprehend. In the eyes of the clones being experimented upon, researchers who could "transfer their consciousness into deathclaws" and "dictate their lives and deaths at will" were practically gods, weren't they? "Gods" who sought to forge an "emperor" from among them, repeatedly visiting disasters to weed out the weak while allowing those who passed the environmental trials to reproduce and drive the evolution of their species... Framed through a religious lens, this vile experiment could easily be interpreted as mythology. Later, a portion of the clones and test subjects escaped with that "Yong Shi," naturally carrying both those memories and their altered genes out into the world, passing them down generation after generation... At that thought, Chu Guang's expression turned somewhat peculiar. If the legend of the "Great Horned Deer God" could be traced back to an experiment in some shelter... Could the "Spirit of the Sand Sea" in Sunset Province also be connected to some undisclosed secret project? The more Chu Guang thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. It seemed necessary to organize a group of folklorists to collect the strange rumors drifting across the wasteland. Who knew what inadvertent clue might conceal an unimaginably massive catch. Just as Chu Guang was pondering which tavern to place this new NPC in, Heya stared at him with burning eyes and spoke again. "...I plan to visit Shelter 79! Have you secured the clearance there? Authorize me!" "Not completely yet, but it's just a matter of procedure..." Chu Guang replied. "I'll go with you. I happen to have some business to settle over there as well." Heya smiled faintly. "Deal! Oh, right, once you're done dealing with things there, how do you plan to handle that shelter?" Chu Guang deliberated for a moment before answering, "...I haven't settled on that yet. I'll need to see what good stuff they have first." Heya chimed in cheerfully, "If you haven't decided how to use it, you can turn it over to me as a laboratory! Aside from the deathclaw, the other mutants there make fantastic research material! I happen to have trained several promising researchers lately, and I was planning to send them there for an internship..." At that suggestion, Chu Guang's eyes lit up. "That's a great idea. I'll consider it!" Although the exact layout of Shelter 79 remained unknown, according to Yong Shi, the energy stored within was enough to keep the facility running for five centuries. Compared to Shelter 404's pitiful reserves, Shelter 79's stockpiles could only be described as obscenely extravagant. Shutting down the facility would allow them to salvage its nuclear fuel. Keeping it running, on the other hand, meant it could serve as a biological research facility and a respawn point for players. Between "Energy Coins +10,086" or "Society Research +10, Respawn Point +1"... After merely a moment's thought, Chu Guang unhesitatingly chose the latter. At present, he still had a fuel rod lying unused, so he wasn't particularly starved for shelter-grade fuel rods. On the other hand, the research facilities in that shelter, along with the respawn points to recruit more players, were precisely what he needed! Not only that, the deathclaws bred in Shelter 79 could serve as excellent "biological mounts." Capable of both traveling and fighting, and exceptionally durable to boot—they were downright practical! Integrating technology recovered from Shelter 401, the blue jackets the players had rescued from the east district of Qingquan City had successfully reverse-engineered the Church of the Torch's "psychic interference device." The accompanying "neural interface apparatus" could be manufactured using the black box recovered from Shelter 117. While mass production was out of the question, limited fabrication posed little trouble. Fitting one around a deathclaw's neck would make taming it into a mount entirely feasible! Neko, tethered in the park, was the best living proof. Every time Chu Guang headed to the east district of Qingquan City, he rode her, even doing so while wearing power armor. Facts had proven that deathclaws could indeed be domesticated through technological means. Factor in the deathclaw research data preserved in Shelter 79, and he might even get Heya to help breed large lizards better suited for riding. At this thought, a meaningful smile spread across Chu Guang's face. Such a formidable, balance-breaking "SSSR mount"... Wouldn't a flat price of fifty thousand silver coins be selling it too cheap? As expected, selling it by the jin would be far more appropriate! ... Ruigu City, Fallen Leaves Camp. When Battlefield Atmosphere Group dragged a wooden plank bearing the severed head of the deathclaw back to camp in the fading evening glow, both the Legion soldiers on watch and the survivors within were struck dumb with shock. He was bathed in blood, looking like an evil spirit crawling out of hell. A hemp rope was looped across his shoulder, gripped in his right hand, while his left held a blood-stained axe—one he had bought off Sisi for the exorbitant price of twenty silver coins. Dropping the axe and rope to the ground together, he cast a brazen look at the sentries standing on high alert at the entrance and spun his tall tale with complete indifference. "Deathclaw—" "I killed it!" He would have loved to spout some grand banter, but his grasp of the Human Alliance language was abysmal, limited to just a handful of phrases. A flurry of hushed murmurs rippled before the gate. The black-robed soldiers eyed him with deep suspicion, clear disbelief in their gazes. Yet Battlefield Guy couldn't have cared less about their skepticism. Before returning, he had deliberately hunted down a mutant hyena, discarded his weapons, and brawled with the beast bare-handed, leaving himself covered in bruises and scrapes. He had no need to weave an airtight lie; all he needed was to play the part of a taciturn brute and look convincing. As for the rest... These people would fill in the blanks on their own. Not far off in the camp, survivors crowded near the entrance, casting wandering glances his way. The expressions on their faces varied: some wore envy, some jealousy, while others whistled and couldn't help cheering for him. That was a monster that even a Legion century had been helpless against. And it had been slain by a fellow wastelander of the same humble origins as them! Among the crowd nearby, Battlefield Atmosphere Group spotted several familiar faces. There was the apprentice who had peeled potatoes alongside him, the squad member who had gotten separated halfway through, and the only person whose name he could recall—Li Ba. Around this time, likely alerted by the commotion at the gates, Korwei, the camp's overseer, stepped outside. "What are you all crowding around here for? Are your chores done?" At the crack of a whip, the survivors blocking the entrance scattered at once. Carrying his whip to the gate, Korwei caught sight of "Pangolin," drenched in blood like a crimson wraith, and then looked down at the head on the wooden plank. His face immediately twisted into shock. The calf-sized head was simply too overwhelming, particularly the demonically contorted visage, which clearly showed that it had endured agony beyond endurance before dying. The camp entrance fell dead silent for a full five minutes. As though recovering from a petrification spell, Korwei finally regained his senses. Glaring intently at Battlefield Atmosphere Group, he forced a sentence from his throat. "You did this?" Battlefield Guy nodded without batting an eye. "Yes!" Even if he hadn't done it all on his own, he had contributed DPS! Rounding up, saying he did it wasn't wrong in the slightest. Though Korwei remained doubtful, taking in the man's blood-soaked state left him with no plausible reason to question it. He simply couldn't fathom how a monster that had cost him over a dozen men had been brought down by this local native. "I will report your merit. First, go down to the river nearby and wash that blood off yourself..." With that, Korwei looked toward a sentry and gestured with his chin toward the hunter. "Give him a bar of soap." The rifle-bearing sentry snapped to attention and saluted. "Sir!" ... Smearing the blood onto himself had taken only a few minutes, but washing it clean took well over an hour. Battlefield Guy realized he had put himself through immense hassle, yet skipping it wasn't an option. He had hacked at the neck with wild swings, leaving the scales mangled like dog-chewed meat. If he hadn't been stained with a single drop of blood, that would have been truly suspicious! By the time he finally scrubbed off the sticky gore, night had fallen completely. Trudging back toward the camp, Battlefield Guy mentally organized his vocabulary, pondering how he would brag in a moment. Just then, a black-robed soldier approached him. "You are Pangolin." Battlefield Guy froze for two seconds before catching on, replying at once, "Yeah... what's up?" The black-robed soldier continued, "Come with me." Though puzzled, Battlefield Guy knew overthinking was pointless and simply trailed behind the man. Watching the soldier lead him out of the camp and toward the depths of the forest, Battlefield Guy couldn't help feeling a twinge of suspicion. Could that Korwei guy... Be planning to silence him and claim the glory for himself? He couldn't be that much of a dog, could he! While his thoughts ran wild, flickering campfires appeared not far ahead. Behind the forest lay yet another encampment. Unlike Fallen Leaves Camp, whether standing guard or patrolling, every single individual here was a soldier clad in black robes and heavy ballistic armor. Without a doubt— This was the staging ground of the Legion's aerospace marines! Masking his astonishment, Battlefield Atmosphere Group followed the soldier forward, passing the perimeter sentry post while quietly taking note of the camp's defensive layout. Soon, the two arrived at the center of the camp, where an elevator platform stood. "Get on." Hearing the soldier's command, Battlefield Guy obediently stepped onto the platform, though internally he was shouting in excitement. Holy crap! Were they taking him straight into the enemy's "Nexus"?! Before he could dwell on it, the lift groaned to life. Drawn by several heavy iron chains, the platform ascended slowly, drawing closer to the towering iron fortress until it vanished fully inside. The elevator opened into a vast concourse. The space was astonishingly cavernous, its layout somewhat resembling a U-shaped dry dock used for docking submarines, while the rolling shutter doors along the side appeared to house garages or workshops. Battlefield Guy looked around in wonder, wishing he could snap photos of everything to share on the forums and flaunt his awe to the netizens. Unfortunately, let alone a camera, he didn't even have his VM. Two soldiers stepped forward to conduct a body search, patting him down from head to toe twice before allowing him through the buffer room's airlock. Passing through several bulkheads and winding down several corridors, he was brought into a lavishly decorated room carpeted in red. Several people stood within. Only one was seated. There was no mistaking that man's identity—he was the commander the Legion soldiers spoke of, the captain of the *Heart of Iron*, General Maclen. Battlefield Guy stole a couple of glances at him. The man looked to be in his early forties, with sharply defined facial features, a prominent nose, and a robust, muscular build. His eyes were keen as a hawk hunting chicks, clearly showing he hadn't neglected his physical conditioning despite his high rank. He might very well be an Awakened! While Battlefield Guy quietly sized up the man in the chair, the man was doing the exact same to him. With a flicker of intrigue in his gaze, General Maclen spoke. "You are Pangolin?" "Yes, my lord," Battlefield Atmosphere Group answered, though inwardly his mind was racing. If he pulled a Jing Ke assassinating the King of Qin right here and separated this guy's head from his shoulders, would the expansion pack end before it even began? Then again... That would probably be pushing his luck. Though an Awakened, he wasn't faster than a bullet. Within seven paces, guns were both swift and precise, to say nothing of the dozen or more firearms concealed in this room—more than enough to riddle him like a sieve in seconds. If only he had a suit of exoskeleton armor... Staring at the seemingly simple, taciturn native hunter before him, General Maclen continued with keen interest. "Tell me, how did you bring down that beast?" "...Your shells wounded it. I trapped it, put out its eyes, bled it, and cut off its head," Battlefield Atmosphere Group answered in his broken Human Alliance tongue. Crude though the account was, Maclen hadn't expected a barbarian native to speak with eloquence or spin an elaborate yarn like a wandering minstrel. Nodding in approval, he said, "Well done. A true warrior." "Starting today, you are the first centurion of the Auxiliary Army. Your subordinates shall be promoted to decurions... You may return shortly and deliver the good news to them." Speaking in an even tone, General Maclen then glanced toward the side. "Furthermore, the reward I promised." As the words fell, a sergeant entered, holding a chain that led ten slaves into the room. They were barefoot, clad only in thin tunics, varying in hair color, height, and build, though their features could passably be described as fair. Their exotic facial contours showed they were clearly not local survivors, but rather brought by the Legion from elsewhere. Such as the desert. Battlefield Guy stood dumbfounded, profoundly shaken. He had assumed the damn developer would reward him with ten strapping hunks; he never expected to be tested with such sugar-coated temptations. Was this really the kind of content a free-to-play player was allowed to experience? General Maclen took great satisfaction in observing the bumpkin-like stupor on the native's face. He didn't care if his subordinates were greedy or lustful; if anything, flawed talents were far easier to manage. Had the man shown zero interest in wealth or women, Maclen would instead have grown suspicious of hidden motives. After all, such individuals fell into only two categories: either saints entirely divorced from base desires, or men harboring ambitions far beyond the ordinary. "I am a man of my word. They are yours." Seeing Korwei shoot him a glance, Battlefield Guy quickly lowered his head and answered in a deep voice, "Thank you, my lord!" The audience lasted a mere ten minutes. Though intrigued by this native hunter who had brought down the deathclaw, to General Maclen, this was merely a minor diversion on the expedition trail. If the native truly possessed a gift for leading troops in battle, he wouldn't mind promoting him to a chiliarch to command the Auxiliary Army. Once "Pangolin" was dismissed, General Maclen looked toward Korwei, a glimmer of approval in his eyes. "It seems the natives here are not all useless. Occasionally, one or two capable ones can still be found." "Uncover more talents like this." "We need to cultivate our own influence in southern River Valley Province. Men like him are fine seeds worthy of nurturing." Korwei bowed his head and acknowledged respectfully, "Yes, sir!"