Just how long would it take to gather a hundred kilograms of mushrooms?
Chu Guang honestly had no idea. He generally steered clear of the stuff.
He had always prepared his own food, and under no circumstances short of absolute desperation would he ever choose fungi as a meal.
Meanwhile, Yaya trudged out of the shelter looking utterly dejected. Yet the instant her front foot stepped onto the clearing before the sanatorium, the sight before her left her rooted to the spot in shock.
"Is... is this a map update?!"
It was a scene she had never laid eyes on before!
A three-meter-high concrete wall now encircled the sanatorium. On the inside of the wall, chunks of cement and gravel formed a gentle slope.
Along the top of the wall, car hoods salvaged from rusted wrecks and aluminum strips scavenged from the wasteland had been fashioned into makeshift parapets.
It looked strikingly cyberpunk.
And it wasn't just the perimeter wall. Directly in front of the sanatorium stood two small brick-and-wood structures, one large and one small.
Wooden signs hung by their doorways—one read *Weapons Shop*, and the other read *Bathhouse*.
Missing three days felt like an entire century had passed.
This version update was an absurd leap forward.
Yaya stood there, thoroughly baffled.
After searching for a while, she found the gate in the perimeter wall. As she walked over, she spotted two players standing nearby, vigorously driving nails with hammers to secure a row of sharpened wooden stakes.
"What are you guys doing?" Yaya approached, asking out of curiosity.
Neither player even glanced up, both of them panting through their breathless, enthusiastic labor.
Ya'er I Need the Bathroom: "Building fences and barricades! Picked up the quest at the woodworking shed! They only needed two people, so you're too late!"
Who'll Sniff Ward's Athlete's Foot: "That's right! Reinforcing a section of barricade earns five silver coins and fifty contribution points! If anyone attacks, we push the fence right in front of the gate. Even if they breach the wooden doors, we can box them in with the barricades and pick them off from a distance! Super useful!"
"Say, do we really need to make it this complicated? The quest board just said to lay down a couple of horizontal logs, didn't it?"
"What do you know?! Mine is a replica of a World War II anti-tank wooden chevaux-de-frise! Once we get the materials to wrap barbed wire around it later, forget about a few ragtag marauders—even if those green-skinned muscle freaks show up, they'll be bottled up right in this gateway and slaughtered like chickens!"
"Keep bragging. It's just a damn fence, and you almost had me convinced."
As they bickered back and forth, the two players seemed on the verge of a full-blown argument over the tactical practicality of their fortification.
Yaya looked on, bewildered, her mind filled with question marks.
Silver coins?
Was that the currency introduced in the recent update?
And what was this about picking up quests at a woodworking shed? Didn't everyone check quests on the plastic whiteboard before?
Yaya turned it over in her mind.
It seemed this update really had changed a lot...
Regardless, she had to finish her punishment quest as quickly as possible to restore her resident status. The last thing she wanted was missing out on this version, only for another one to roll out.
With that thought, Yaya decided to find a container for the mushrooms first.
Yet when she went to look for an abandoned plastic bucket, she discovered that the piles of junk previously strewn across the sanatorium grounds had been neatly gathered and stored inside a wooden shed.
As she walked up, she found a player sitting behind a wooden desk with his legs crossed. A notepad rested on the desk, with an oil-based marker hanging beside it.
Catching sight of Yaya approaching, the player raised his eyes, visibly astonished.
"Huh? You're alive?"
Yaya blinked, caught off guard.
"You know me?"
The player gave an irreverent grin.
"Of course! How could I not? Since the server launched, you're the only person who's managed to throw their life away for nothing."
Yaya wanted to punch him, but figured she probably couldn't win the fight, so she simply glared at him with venom.
"Out of the way. I need a bucket."
"Small bucket is one copper coin. Large bucket is two copper coins."
"What?" Yaya's eyes widened. "You're charging money for trash?"
*Why don't you just rob people?!*
"Hey, big sis, I didn't make the rules. I'm just working a job here." The player put on a helpless expression, twirling the marker in his fingers. "If you've got an issue, go complain to the NPC."
"But I just respawned! Where am I supposed to get money?" Yaya said, caught between tears and laughter. "Come on, bro, can't you cut me some slack? I'll return it as soon as I'm done using it."
"No can do. Violating regulations means getting penalized. The only things available for rent are steel tools; this scrap is for sale only." The player was thoroughly unyielding, shaking his head like a rattle-drum. "Didn't everyone get five copper coins from the version update? It's not expensive. Just buy one."
Yaya froze.
"Huh?! We got money? How come I didn't get any?"
The player clearly had no idea either, scratching the back of his head.
"Uh... could it be an affinity issue?"
"Did you piss off the NPC?"
Hearing that her affinity might have dropped, Yaya was so miserable she felt like crying.
*Damn it!*
She was already serving a punishment, and on top of that she had to suffer an affinity penalty too?
Just then, a voice like heavenly music sounded from behind her.
"I'll pay for her."
Yaya spun around. A diminutive figure standing just one and a half meters tall was carrying a thick stack of beast-hide coats toward the warehouse desk, setting the cargo down with a heavy thud.
"Phew! Two pieces in total. Log it down!"
"Hold on a sec."
The player flipped open his ledger, picking up the marker to write a line inside.
[... Day ... Hour: "Tailor" Tengteng turned in 2 hyena-hide coats.]
Once a player took on the tailor profession, as long as they fulfilled a certain daily quota of orders, they received a base salary plus a bonus of two silver coins for every finished coat that passed quality inspection.
Of course, players could also purchase hides, plant fibers, and other raw materials from the warehouse to craft coats independently, then sell them to other players or back to the warehouse.
Essentially working as self-employed entrepreneurs.
Coats produced that way yielded a profit ranging anywhere from one to five silver coins. And if the craftsmanship was exceptionally refined, once everyone had accumulated some wealth, certain players might even pay a handsome premium for them.
Tengteng planned to hone her skills a bit more, save up some money to buy a plot of land, and open an apparel shop right by the sanatorium's front entrance.
Wouldn't running her own shop be far more lucrative than working for an NPC?
"Tengteng..."
Snapping out of her daze, Yaya grabbed Tengteng's arm, tears of gratitude welling in her eyes.
She never imagined that after coming back, the only person to extend a helping hand would be Tengteng, the very person she had previously bickered with.
Unaccustomed to such intense adoration, Tengteng flushed red and tried to yank her arm free.
"... Don't look at me like that! It's just one copper coin, barely any money at all. At... at worst, you can just pay me back later!"
"I'm sorry, I was in the wrong before. You're such a great person!"
"... Whatever, I'm not holding a grudge. Just do your best. I still have clothes to make, so I'm off."
Leaving a copper coin on the desk, Tengteng picked up a wooden crate piled high with animal pelts and turned to leave. But Yaya hastily took it from her, eagerly offering,
"Let me help you!"
"No, no need! Go take care of your own business, just leave me alone."
Tengteng had a massive headache coming on. She reached out to take the crate back, but due to her height, she couldn't reach it, and Yaya deftly sidestepped out of reach.
Hoisting the wooden crate high, the warmhearted Yaya giggled.
"How could I do that?! You're so tiny, how could I let you carry so much? Where's your workstation? I'll carry it over for you."
"..."
*Why does this girl sound like she's begging for a beating?*
Dark lines creased Tengteng's forehead, her shoulders trembling faintly.
Her fists clenched tight!
...
Inside the woodworking shed.
Sitting on a stool with a stalk of grass dangling from his lips, Brother Mosquito deftly used tools to clamp two wooden slats together, sandwiching a flexible strip of scavenged alloy between them.
He then strung it with a bowstring cured from mutant hyena sinew, completing a crude wooden bow.
"Done."
Another order fulfilled, another two silver coins in the bag.
Mosquito hung the finished wooden bow on the adjacent rack, waiting for other players to come take their pick.
Strictly speaking, relying solely on such simple steps was far from sufficient to craft a true hunting bow.
Mosquito had only heard that for a truly fine hunting bow, even the moisture content of the wood used for the riser required meticulous care.
Even so, for players without firearms, this gadget was already plenty formidable. Within thirty paces, taking down a mutant hyena wouldn't pose much of an issue.
Assuming the shot landed, of course.
Either way, he certainly lacked the skill to pull that off himself.
"Twenty wooden bows, required to pierce a mutant hyena's skull at twenty meters... This order will probably take until the day after tomorrow."
Mosquito muttered under his breath, casting a glance at the bottles and jars arranged on the corner of his workbench.
Inside one was saltpeter he had refined from nitre-rich soil; beside it sat a jar of gypsum powder containing calcium sulfate; and beneath the shelf sat a bucket of blackened, hardened chunks—charcoal.
Originally, he had intended to concoct black powder today, but the rewards from the manager's commissions were simply too tempting.
Making five wooden bows a day guaranteed a base wage, with an additional commission of two silver coins for each finished bow.
"Forget it, make money first..."
Conducting chemical experiments in the woodworking shed all the time wasn't ideal anyway.
He planned to save up some coin, buy a plot of land, purchase some cement and bricks, and erect a small house dedicated to selling the weapons he designed.
Wouldn't that be far more entertaining than doing simple carpentry!
Just then, the door to the woodworking shed was shoved open. Fang Chang, who had previously bought a bow from him, strode inside with vigorous steps.
"Give me twenty more arrows!"
"You went through them that fast?" Seeing Fang Chang covered in blood, Mosquito paused, puzzled. "You didn't forget that those things are recoverable, did you?"
"I know, but are you sure these things can still be used?" Looking utterly exasperated, Fang Chang dumped his quiver onto the workbench.
Inside lay a dense bundle of snapped shafts and arrowheads that had detached from their stems.
Dropping into a nearby stool, he let out a heavy sigh and grumbled, "The quality on these things is heartbreaking!"
Mosquito picked up the quiver, pulled out an arrow to examine it, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Hmm... looking at it rationally, having the arrowhead lodge inside the prey's body ought to count as an advantage. But it's true what you say—for hunting, the attrition rate is a bit high. Let me think about how to improve it."
The arrowheads were fashioned from sharpened scrap metal and secured to the wooden shafts with pine resin; the build quality was undeniably rough.
"Please do!"
"Don't mention it, this is my job after all."
Mosquito counted out twenty arrows from the rack beside him and handed them to Fang Chang.
Each arrow cost two copper coins, so twenty arrows amounted to four silver coins. Without hesitation, Fang Chang dug four silver coins from his pocket and laid them out generously on the table.
This was wealth earned from trading in his recent hunting haul.
"Thanks, bro."
"You're welcome. Happy hunting!" Mosquito chuckled, waving at Fang Chang as he stepped toward the door. "By the way, do you want to try out my new weapon? I guarantee it's fantastic."
Hearing that, Fang Chang nearly tripped over the threshold.
"*Cough, cough*—next time for sure!"
Testing that guy's inventions literally cost lives!
At the memory of the "Hell Sprinkler" the fellow had designed before, Fang Chang didn't even dare look back as he steadied himself against the doorframe, clutching his quiver and fleeing for dear life.
Mosquito rubbed his nose, thoroughly baffled.
"Is it really that exaggerated?"
He had actually been planning to mount a melee bayonet onto his "Hellfire 0.1".
Chapter 50