Dividing the Spoils and Rewarding Merit!

Boulder City. Inside the third-floor conference room of City Hall, complete silence hung over the long table, broken only by the occasional flick of cigarette ash and the ever-present haze of nicotine that never seemed to dissipate. The Legion had left. Or rather, they had fled with their tails tucked between their legs, and it was likely they wouldn't have the spare energy to meddle with the River Valley Province for a very long time. This should have been cause for celebration. Yet... None of the people seated around the conference table could muster the slightest joy. At this moment, the atmosphere in the room was so solemn that it felt less like a meeting and more like a funeral. The only thing out of place with this funeral-like mood was probably the brown shirt Dulong was wearing inside out under his black coat. He hadn't realized his shirt was on backwards until he sat down, but by then it was too late to change. He could only repeatedly fidget with his collar to hide it. This meeting had dragged on from the middle of the night straight until dawn. Struggling to keep his heavy eyelids open, Dulong quietly swept his gaze across the people at the table once more, trying to read any shift in stance from their expressions. Yet there was still not the slightest clue. To ease the stiff tension around the table, he cleared his throat and spoke in a tactful tone. "...At least he didn't lie to us." Seeing that no one interrupted, Dulong continued. "Last night, not a single bullet... not even an empty shell casing landed on our great wall. And the munitions they launched were undeniably fireworks." "I believe there's really no need for us to overreact. The Alliance is a very friendly neighbor, and they have always cared deeply about their relationship with us." When saying this, Dulong kept his posture humble and adopted a consultative tone. After all, of the people sitting here, hardly anyone held lower status than him. Aside from Boulder City Bank's president, Melvin, and Deputy Director Jaeger, who was always at odds with him, everyone else was either an Inner City noble or an officer in the Militia... and the latter were the true power holders of Boulder City. By comparison, he was more like the City Lord's servant—a steward looking after "non-core affairs." A few people around the table exchanged glances and murmured in low voices. The expressions of several Inner City nobles softened slightly. They felt his words made a bit of sense; after all, the Alliance had never actively provoked them and had even sold them plenty of intriguing novelties, enriching their days and nights. Only the man in the Militia uniform kept his face stiff. Staring unblinkingly at Dulong, he let out a cold snort from his nose by way of an answer. "Oh? So we're supposed to thank them?" His name was Weilun, centurion of the Boulder City Militia's 1st Millennium Unit, an old-money Inner City noble, and the hardest hawk to deal with. Although isolation was the shared consensus among the Inner City residents, how to isolate and to what extent were matters open to debate. "You misunderstand me, that wasn't what I meant." Dulong sighed softly and looked at the officer with an aching head, continuing, "Looking at this objectively, having that airship... or rather, that 400mm main gun in the Alliance's hands is better than having it in the Legion's, isn't it? Even if the folks in the northern suburbs are a bunch of bumpkins—mud-wrestling split-claw crabs—they are at least relatively civilized ones." The officer narrowed his eyes slightly and said coldly, "Are you saying I'm not being objective?" Dulong: "..." Seeing the meeting stall once again, Melvin, seated at a corner of the long table, gave a soft cough and chimed in to mediate. "I think what the Director meant is that compared to half a month ago, our situation has improved considerably. There's no need to wear such gloomy expressions." Seeing his ally speak up, Dulong immediately seized on his words. "That's exactly what I meant." Sitting beside Weilun, an officer responsible for city defense suddenly remarked with emotion: "Automated anti-air batteries, over a hundred cannons... Great Horned Deer God above, how on earth did they breach that monstrosity?" At 7:58 last night, the Alliance had put on a fireworks display lasting an hour and two minutes, while the anti-air cannons and missiles on the great wall had remained loaded and on standby the entire night. If those dense fireworks had been replaced with shells fitted with proximity fuses, not a single aircraft from Boulder City would have managed to take off. After all, even if those VTOL fighters could switch to fixed-wing mode, they still needed over ten kilometers of distance to complete acceleration. Before that, shooting them down didn't require cutting-edge technology—a single broadside salvo would have been more than enough. Without a doubt, the bumpkins in the northern suburbs had used the pretext of a celebration to flex what little muscle they had. At the thought of this, the officer couldn't help gritting his teeth and cursing inwardly. They had merely gotten lucky and won a single battle against the Legion, and now they were strutting their stuff before Boulder City. That smug look of petty men striking it rich... It was begging for a beating! "I maintain my stance," Weilun said expressionlessly. "We should tighten our aid to them! Immediately!" Dulong sighed. "For instance?" Weilun replied without hesitation, "Suspend the loans! Cut off trade with the north!" Dulong wasn't surprised at all to hear him say that. These uncouth brutes in the Militia had no concept of how much daily necessities cost. He was just about to speak. Yet before he could open his mouth, an ornately dressed man said everything he wanted to say. "The second point is unrealistic. What you eat, wear, and use... all of it comes from trade between us and other survivor settlements." Dulong glanced at the man. He recognized him—named Xide, a renowned Inner City noble and the major shareholder behind Weijia Trading Firm. This guy's enterprises weren't limited to Weijia Trading Firm, nor were they confined to Boulder City. He held shares in southern farms and mercenary corps stationed there as well; his fortune was so immense it could hardly be measured in chips. At the same time, Dulong noticed the clothes woven from devil silk he was wearing and the shoes crafted from Deathclaw leather on his feet. In a sense, what he said was absolutely true. His everyday sustenance and luxury truly derived from external trade. As soon as Xide finished, another Inner City noble of equally high standing spoke up right away. "Indeed! Furthermore, suspending trade with one specific party alone is completely impractical! Once they step outside the great wall, those caravans won't let you know where they're going. Even if you shut the north gate and leave only the south gate open, as long as business in the northern suburbs remains profitable, they'll make a wide detour just to get there." Weilun's brow twitched. Though his attitude remained unyielding, he probably realized that his previous demand hadn't been thought through, so he adjusted his tone and made a slight concession. "Putting trade aside for now, at least that loan must be stopped!" He knew the money was right in Boulder City Bank. Stopping the loan was simple: a mere flick of a finger could freeze hundreds of millions of chips. The nobles had no objections; after all, the Alliance's purse had little to do with them. Yet just as a hint of a smile began to form on Weilun's face, Boulder City Bank's president, Melvin, gave a dry cough and suddenly spoke up. "Regarding that... I also have a few words to say." Seeing everyone look toward him, he continued: "Those loans, rather than being aid for them, are actually for ourselves. The residents of Boulder City cannot afford to buy our goods. If we suspend the loans to the Alliance, at least half of our factories will go bankrupt as a result." Hearing this, Xide piped up immediately. "That won't do! The loans cannot be stopped!" The nobles nodded in agreement one after another, voicing virtually identical opinions. "Exactly!" "Stopping the loans is utterly foolish! Our factories are already in production. If we halt their credit, who will pay the workers' wages?" "Even if we suspend it, it should at least wait until those bumpkins settle their payments for the goods!" Seeing more and more allies swing to his side, Melvin breathed a sigh of relief and struck while the iron was hot. "That is my view as well. After a century of stagnation, our economy is finally showing signs of recovery. We cannot allow it to be cut short... at least not now." The officer beside Weilun couldn't help clenching his fists and snarled, "Are we just supposed to watch them grow bigger and stronger?" Dulong said softly, "On that point, I should clarify: their strength is indeed growing, but we are also becoming stronger." "If nothing else, consider the three thousand mercenaries hired to fight on the front lines. Excluding those who died or stayed behind, at least one to two thousand have returned... They are soldiers who have seen real combat—not the kind spent clearing slime molds, but a hot war of firepower clashing against firepower. We can absorb them entirely and train them as junior officers!" He had always dreamed of City Hall having its own armed force, and right now was undoubtedly the best opportunity. Seeing Weilun fall into contemplation, Dulong felt a flicker of joy. But before he could savor it, his ally Melvin suddenly undercut him. "Regarding military expansion... I actually don't believe it's necessary. As long as we ensure we maintain the capability of mutual destruction with our neighbor, that is enough. Economically, they depend on us, and they will depend on us even more in the future. Those loans are chains around their necks... far more effective than expanding the army." What a joke. Military expansion meant tax hikes. City Hall might not care, but he certainly had to. The Outer City residents were already bled nearly dry; there was virtually no grease left to squeeze out of them. Only recently, with an increase in jobs, had things improved slightly. Where that money would come from was blatantly obvious. Ignoring the frantic glances Dulong was shooting at him, Melvin continued: "If our City Lord has no plans to expand our territory, maintaining such a large military will only become a burden to us." The nobles seated around the table nodded in succession. Most of them held businesses and properties in the city. If the military expanded, taxes would inevitably rise, driving up their operating costs. At least on this issue, their stance aligned with Boulder City Bank. Weilun furrowed his brows. He could disregard the opinions of Dulong and President Melvin, but he could not overlook the nobles seated here. Two centuries of intermarriage had woven the Inner City's power structure into an intricate web. Especially the old-money nobility—many of them hadn't bought "tickets" to get into the Inner City with money; they had been inside the original high-rise right from the beginning. Some maintained the operation of the City Lord's "core business," while others managed assets across distant parts of the world. Even the City Lord listened to their counsel. At least selectively. At this point, Melvin gave another soft cough and mediated once more: "There really is no need to worry excessively. Our neighbor is very trustworthy..." Pausing for a moment, he continued: "Just yesterday, men sent by that Administrator delivered twelve crates of treasure to us. They were all General MacLaren's personal collection. My professional appraisal team valued them at eight to nine point six million chips... This sum will serve as an advance payment for the next three years of interest." Before he even finished speaking, he saw the nobles' eyes light up instantly. Especially the shareholders of Boulder City Bank. Even though these treasures were going into the bank's vaults and had no direct connection to them, these items would soon appear at auctions. To them, chips were merely numbers; only money spent held lasting value—whether used to acquire real estate, rare metals, imports from Ideal City, or relics of the pre-war era. The personal collection of a Legion captain... It surely would not disappoint. The mood around the conference table turned lively at once. The excited whispering and the suddenly wide-awake faces caught both Dulong and Weilun completely off guard. "Who would've thought those bumpkins were so generous?" "That's not generosity, that's the interest owed to us in the first place!" One noble sighed with feeling: "War... damn, does money roll in fast." Watching the nobles chatter excitedly, Melvin let out a breath and smiled. It seemed he had played this card at just the right time... ... If anyone found severing financial cooperation with the Alliance utterly unacceptable, it was Boulder City Bank. The bankruptcy of Boulder City's factories might ruin the appetites of the Inner City nobles and force them into a period of penny-pinching, but it wouldn't wound them to the bone. Melvin, however, was in a different boat. His bank wasn't just the creditor to the Alliance; it also lent to Boulder City's factories so factory owners could expand production. If the Alliance's loans were frozen, those factories wouldn't receive payments, and thus wouldn't be able to repay their debts to him. Widespread bad loans would instantly trigger systemic risk. Namely, a liquidity crisis. The bumpkins in the northern suburbs were cunning. The moment they received the loans, they had signed heaps of orders with Boulder City's factories, booking production schedules all the way into next year. Only now did Melvin realize why the Alliance's representatives had been so agreeable when signing the contracts, accepting a whole host of unequal terms—that the funds couldn't be used for spot transactions, strict boundaries on chip usage, establishing escrow accounts, and so on. Turns out, those bastards had planned from the very beginning to strap him tightly to their war chariot. He was undeniably the wealthiest man in this city, but his wealth was not all his own; a massive portion of it had been deposited with him by others. That included Outer City residents, Inner City nobles, and even the City Lord. Beyond private accounts, there were City Hall's tax revenues, the Militia's military funds, and more. If something went wrong with this... It wouldn't be solved simply by burning a few ledgers and killing a few scapegoats. Pondering this chain of consequences, Melvin had a pounding headache, yet found it ironically absurd. Having never set foot in the Alliance, he had somehow been forced into becoming half an Alliance man, even having to shoulder the pressure from the Inner City on their behalf... And yet, he simply couldn't quit them. Because the benefits they offered were just too generous... When the meeting finally ended and he returned home at last, Melvin sank into the plush sofa. Rubbing his sore eye bags, he couldn't help cursing under his breath: "Those cunning skunks..." Alisa, who was reading a newspaper, tilted her head. "Daddy?" "Nothing... my good girl," Melvin immediately smoothed his expression into tenderness, dotingly ruffling his daughter's fluffy hair. "Daddy's just a little tired. I'll be fine after resting for a bit." Alisa blinked, showing her sharp wit. "Because of the war?" "Not really, though it's somewhat related..." Melvin sighed, murmuring tiredly to himself. "The ideal scenario was for the Alliance to take our money and fight the Legion to mutual destruction. That way, we could do business with an Alliance that needed our help, while making them do things on our terms." "Yet something unexpected happened. They captured the airship," Alisa said thoughtfully. Glancing at the newspaper in her hands, Melvin smiled and nodded. "That's right... They got the airship, and they used a fireworks display to tell us that they've already repaired the damn thing and even figured out how to fly it... A pack of cunning little foxes." "Weren't they skunks?" "Ahem." Melvin cleared his throat. "Don't copy Daddy's language... Anyway, why am I babbling about such boring things?" He didn't want his sweet little daughter fretting over such bothersome matters. Both of his sons were exceptional—one was learning the ropes of the business in the Inner City, while the other was traveling in Ideal City. He could entrust the family's future to them without worry. Melvin yawned. "It's getting late. Your music teacher will be here soon... You'd better put the newspaper away, or if your mother sees it, she'll be unhappy again." Alisa made a helpless face and set down the newspaper. "Fine..." Her voice was thick with reluctance, dragging out the last syllable... ... Before dawn broke over the wasteland. The evening's celebrations had drawn to a close, but the frenzy on the forums continued unabated. And the cause of it all, naturally, was the announcement posted by the dog developer, Ah Guang. ["Battle of Ruigu City" Campaign Rewards Distributed! Limited-Time Lucky Draw Event Now Live! Please Redeem Your Points for Rewards Promptly!] ["Endless Yellow Sands" Expansion Pack Officially Launched! To Consolidate the Fruits of Victory, We Will Support Our Neighbors and Drive the Chaos- and Plague-Spreading Legion West of the Desert!] [Expeditionary Army Registration Open! (Note: Only combat classes will be tallied. Non-combat lifestyle players need not worry; dedicated expansion-related quests will follow.)] Tail: "Awoooo! Golden legendary!" Meat Mountain Steamed Bun: "!!! What did you pull?" Tail: "Hold on, lemme look first!" Jieyan: "???" Sisi: "Oh, as expected of Little Tail! Snagging first floor is always more important than rolling the gacha! (￣▽￣)" Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "I'm crying, I'm stuck in Sunset Province... I can't claim my lottery reward at all." I'm the Darkest: "No worries, Pangolin, we'll use it for you in the meantime! (funny)" Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "Piss off! Don't you touch it! I'll use it when I get back! (angry)" Jieyan: "Where's Fang Chang! The new expansion is out!" Elaina: "Where's the breakdown? Where's the analysis? Why hasn't it dropped yet! Did you not eat breakfast? (funny)" Yaya: "Time for our armchair developer to punch in!" Brother Mole: "Damn it... could that bastard have hit the grand prize and is too scared to show his face?!" Commander Spring: "(trembling-in-fear.jpg)" Indebted Big Eye: "Fuck! The lucky bastard is here! (angry)" Construction Site Youth and Brick: "Spill it! What did you get! (angry)" Commander Spring: "Ahem... a lollipop." Construction Site Youth and Brick: "Hahahaha! Trash roll!" Tengteng: "Oh, you... you actually believed what he said? (side-eye)" Ye Shi: "Damn it, that dog Fang Chang really vanished... Forget it, not waiting anymore. Login time is in a few minutes. See you guys online, brothers!" Lao Bai: "See you online. (grin)" Kuang Feng: "(smirking side-eye)" Scavenger Lv99: "Awoooo!!! Sewer Quest No. 117, gather at the entrance! Departing at 7:00 sharp! Come quick if you want to grind sequence levels!" "..." Watching the lively chatter among his little players on the forum, Chu Guang felt genuinely happy for them. Although this campaign had bled him dry—the Alliance had burned through an entire year's projected budget in just one month—his players had reaped a bountiful harvest. The vast majority of players received rewards exceeding 2,000 silver coins, enough to buy a Miner I Exoskeleton, while quite a few outstanding contributors received over 20,000 silver coins. Setting aside expenditures on ammunition, supplies, weapon wear, and logistical attrition, the "direct rewards" distributed to the players for this battle alone reached thirty million silver coins! And that wasn't even factoring in the cost of the prize draw. At present, the price of silver on the official website's exchange was also fluctuating wildly, but Chu Guang didn't care much. The Silver Exchange was neither a casino nor a financial product. It was a "financing" channel for the closed beta of *Wasteland OL* and its players—or rather, a tool he used to pay wages and subsidies to them. Once trading volume shrank to a reasonable level and most speculators exited, he would release some technologies that wouldn't be too difficult for the twenty-first century to digest. Options on the table included aviation fuel, laser ignition components for controlled nuclear fusion, and the like... all technologies dating from before the Era of Prosperity. As for how to properly utilize those technologies, that was not his concern, nor did he believe it would need to be. Chu Guang suddenly realized something. Though his administrative competence had been somewhat unpolished at first, after spending enough time in the role of Administrator, he handled such affairs with ever-growing ease. Moreover, the points he had hoarded since the last expansion pack had finally come in handy. Aside from the odd scraps from basic and intermediate mystery boxes, he had listed most of the equipment drawn from advanced mystery boxes on the official website as lottery prizes. Chu Guang divided the rewards into three prize pools. Tier 1 consisted mainly of spoils captured from the Legion, basic weapons manufactured by the Alliance, and light arms provided as military aid from Boulder City, valued between 1 and 500 silver coins. Tier 2 comprised relatively expensive gear, including weapon attachments and exoskeletons, valued between 500 and 2,000 silver coins. Tier 3 consisted mostly of items Chu Guang had obtained from his own mystery boxes, along with choice goods acquired from Ideal City. All of this equipment was of solid quality. Chu Guang was confident that his players could put their ingenuity to good use and maximize their value in the right situations. As for Chu Guang himself, he had little need for new equipment. Not only did he rarely have the chance to take to the front lines, but his current god-tier kit was already near maxed out. If he were handed an axe on top of it, wouldn't he turn from Karl Franz into a mountain dwarf? That would be way too uncool! Now that even Neko was fitted with an exoskeleton, Chu Guang was confident he could take down a tank single-handedly on an open battlefield. That wasn't an exaggeration in the slightest. After all, that Nitrogen Power Hammer was designed specifically for breaching bunkers and taking out armor. Furthermore, beyond the high-tech gear opened from the mystery boxes, what pleased Chu Guang even more were the changes in himself. Returning from the front lines this time, His level had finally surpassed Level 30!