We're on the Same Side!

In Sunset Province, there lived a xenogeneic species known as the sandworm. When standing upright, the creature was as tall as a building, capable of swallowing a person in a single gulp, possessing terrifying combat power. In front of such a monstrosity, let alone an Awakened, even power armor could be ripped apart. At the time, a popular theory circulated on the forums claiming that the sandworms' ferocious destructive power would pulverize any infrastructure beyond the river embankments. If the sandworm infestation wasn't solved, no matter how many roads and railways the Alliance built in Sunset Province, it would all be in vain. Because of this, many players further deduced that to keep construction on track, the Alliance would issue a massive limited-time extermination event. Some top-tier players had even drawn up entire suites of tactics specifically targeting this unique species. Yet to many people's surprise, no such event ever appeared. And the sandworms, which everyone had expected to exert a monumental impact on the course of the war, never once entered the field of vision of either the frontline troops or the logistics units. Naturally, this wasn't because the sandworms feared the Alliance; expecting mere beasts to think that deeply was far too idealistic. The real reason was that from the bivouacs of the vanguard to the supply routes of the rear guard, the Alliance had flawlessly steered clear of every single zone of sandworm activity. That brought up the question: active sandworm zones weren't marked on any map, and even the most seasoned merchant wouldn't dare claim to know the location of every sand nest in the desert. How had Alliance High Command pulled it off? That was a long story. Back when Chu Guang needed to guarantee that construction of the highway and railroad to the Lion Kingdom could proceed smoothly, he had specifically dispatched the Guards Corps deep into nearby villages to investigate and question traveling merchants who had spent years plying the Sunset Province trade routes. After a round of investigation, they discovered that although the sandworms possessed terrifying combat strength, their reproductive capability was actually very weak. They spent year after year sprawled in a single place without moving, never expanding the size of their packs. Later, the biological research lab in Vault 79 launched an in-depth research project on the matter and uncovered an astonishing coincidence: sandworm nests overlapped with pre-war subterranean ocean current conduits to a startling degree! Following a thorough probe of one such nest, the Alliance's biologists discovered that the creature's lair was growing directly on top of a ruptured current conduit. From that point on, the problem was simple. All they had to do was map out the roads, the rail lines, and the frontline positions so that they detoured around the active sections of the subterranean conduits. It was truly that straightforward. And it was the most efficient, economical solution—precisely what the Legion had done when planning their own marching routes and deploying their positions. After all, wherever there were sandworms, abundant subterranean water resources were guaranteed to follow. Those places were never home to just sandworms; they were also typically infested with dangerous mutant arthropods like radscorpions, making them inherently unsuitable as stable transport arteries. It might be tolerable when large groups traveled together, but the moment numbers dwindled, the xenogenes would begin to stir. This was one of the unseen contests between the two sides. Though devoid of gunsmoke, it was no less thrilling than the front lines. If the Alliance's Administrator had blindly bought into one side's rhetoric based on forum rumors or the slightest rustle in the wind, mobilizing all the players to wage a grand sandworm eradication campaign, the outcome would most likely have gone down as a textbook blunder in strategic decision-making—treating the symptoms while ignoring the cause. Considering the reality of the wasteland, unless one could completely repair the ruptured conduits or cut off the water supply inside them, the mutant creatures of Sunset Province would inevitably gravitate toward the only water sources available. In the short term, running the road over a carpet of dead sandworms would shorten the route and reduce initial construction costs. The Alliance might even earn the title "Sandworm Conqueror" and a +10 to prestige. Yet in the months that followed, both the rear supply lines and the frontline troops would be forced to battle the Legion under a crippling attrition debuff, eroding combat efficiency and driving up non-combat casualties. Even if victory was ultimately achieved and the Alliance and its vassals enjoyed a brief period of peace and quiet, the unique conditions of the wasteland meant that the sandworms, which had once stood at the apex of the food chain, would eventually return in another form. Perhaps they would evolve into migratory "burrowing beasts" like those in the Great Desert, or be supplanted by hordes of slightly weaker but equally lethal mutant species. That consequence would force the Alliance to permanently divert hundreds or even thousands of personnel to "highway patrol" duties, turning the railway and highway into a hemorrhaging money pit beneath an ever-accumulating burden of risk. A day might come when the Alliance could bear it no longer and was forced to bite the bullet and pave a whole new road. If the Alliance had cheap, bottomless manpower, it could naturally afford to ignore natural science, or even fly in its face. Regrettably, the shelter hadn't granted Chu Guang an infinite supply of closed-beta slots. At times, Chu Guang couldn't help a cynical suspicion: had the first-generation Administrator anticipated that he might look for shortcuts, and intentionally restricted the release of "gene sequences" for that very reason? After all, when player counts grew too vast, game companies truly stopped treating their players like human beings. That wasn't a flaw unique to any single major studio. The "Sandworm Investigation Report" had merely been a minor interlude during the expedition. After reviewing the findings submitted by logistics, crafting-class players, and Alliance researchers, Chu Guang had arrived at a sensible judgment. Because the matter itself wasn't monumental and only a handful of players had participated in the investigation, he hadn't bothered detailing it in the patch notes. Compared to the war against the Legion, the Scientific Expedition's investigations and the researchers' experiments, seminars, and analyses were minor affairs under the circumstances. Similar occurrences happened almost every day. Chu Guang heard of more than a hundred threats far more immediate than the Na fruit on a daily basis. The strange species and technological relics circulating across the wasteland were as numerous as hairs on an ox. If wastelanders prided themselves on having seen every bizarre spectacle under the sun—not even batting an eye at a talking deathclaw—then he was the ultimate authority among them. Between Xiao Qi and the players, the sheer volume of rumors and oddities he absorbed accounted for at least half of the Alliance's total information intake. Unless the Alliance built a colossal wall like Boulder City, achieving a three-dimensional defense mechanism—top-down or bottom-up—through the concerted efforts of billions of people in a stable environment to completely seal off every threat was practically impossible. Strange occurrences that wouldn't happen once in a century on Earth occurred almost daily in the Wasteland Era. Some players, after grinding their local reputation, took up desk posts in the security force; aside from answering dispatch calls, they did little else besides serializing the bizarre incidents and eccentric criminals they ran into on the forums, attracting quite a sizable audience of onlookers. Consequently, rather than relying on the wild guesses players concocted on the forums using real-world common sense, Chu Guang preferred to consult professionals when making concrete decisions. In any case, the Na fruit had failed to disrupt the Alliance's triumphal celebration. The fruit that spread defilement, along with the countless complications that accompanied prosperity, had been quietly eradicated by the security force and the Celebration Self-Governance Committees... Thanks to Chu Guang's urgent pushing, Heya had immediately dropped the work at hand to dive into research on the Na fruit, calling him back before dusk. "...Let's start with the conclusion. First, we can rule out the possibility that this thing is a product of the slime mold. Second, based on my observations, not only can ordinary crops not survive, but even mutant slime mold cannot propagate in soil infected by these specialized hyphae." At that point, Heya paused, then continued. "Furthermore, it really isn't the fruit of a conventional plant, but a fungus that lives symbiotically with vegetation... You know what wood ear is?" "Of course I do... Wait, you mean it doesn't grow from a tree? It depends on another plant, attaching itself to it?" "Yes." "But didn't you say crops can't grow in soil infected by the hyphae?" Seeing Chu Guang's puzzled expression on the holographic display, Heya nodded in approval. "Smart... You just lack a little flexibility." Chu Guang cleared his throat softly. "I'm busy... Don't beat around the bush." Lowering her crossed arms, Heya explained patiently. "That's precisely what makes the Na fruit so special. Normal plants, animals, and even microorganisms struggle to survive within its domain. But organisms assimilated and infected by it are an entirely different story... they actually grow stronger in its domain. Take the Kamu tree, which produces rubber and biomass oil. After being parasitized by the Na fruit's hyphae, it doesn't wither; instead, it becomes an incubator for cultivating the fruit. Do you understand what I'm saying?" "In other words... the method to grow Na fruit isn't through seeds, but simply—" "Pouring the dung of humans or beasts that have consumed the fruit over the roots of a Kamu tree," Heya interrupted, putting it concisely. "The Na fruit never had a core to begin with, only cloyingly sweet, honey-like flesh, which is why so many animals love to eat it. And those fiber-like threads woven through the pulp are its 'seeds.' So in essence, it is a pure fungus, fundamentally different from the mutant slime mold. Understand?" Mutant slime mold exhibited fungal traits only during specific stages of its life cycle; the rest of the time, it behaved like an animal. It was a predator in the ecosystem, a consumer on the food chain! Just like tigers and lions, or monsters and deathclaws. The fungus called "Na fruit" was different. It was an exceptionally anomalous existence whose emergence altered the very rules of the food chain. An organism's immune system no longer battled viruses and microorganisms for survival space; instead, under the cohesive influence of the Na fruit, they achieved a state of coexistent flourishing. Entities once opposed on the food chain were unified under a new law of nature. Emerald hyphae symbolizing vitality seeped into the dirt. Seeds of the old era could not sprout in the soil it had cleansed; only creatures that embraced the "Na fruit" could thrive in its domain, carrying the fruit ever farther. Good grief! What kind of Grandfather's love was this! Chu Guang was utterly stunned. How was this a Na fruit? This was practically Papa Nurgle incarnate! His Adam's apple bobbed slightly, and he asked at once, "Is there any way to purify soil contaminated by it?" "...Strong acidic disinfectants will do the trick. It isn't an anaerobic fungus, so it won't penetrate deep into the subsoil. Personally, though, I'd recommend burning it directly. Ever heard of flame weeding? I believe your little players have been using that instead of herbicides." Hearing Heya's response, Chu Guang was taken aback. "...It's that simple?" It could be killed with fire... Then again, burning the slime mold was also effective. In the beginning, he and his players had fought off the Tide by dumping massive amounts of incendiary bombs, purging the fruiting bodies and spores with raging flames. Against fruiting bodies other than evolved organisms, barrels of fuel were vastly more effective than high-explosive or armor-piercing shells. Seeing that Chu Guang had clearly overcomplicated the issue, Heya rolled her eyes. "Oh, don't go treating biology like some mystical arcane art. The mutant slime mold is an anomaly—a lingering headache from the Prosperity Era. This Na fruit, at the end of the day, was born in the Wasteland Era... Of course, I'm still studying its other characteristics. A few peculiarities have really caught my attention." "Like what?" "Its mutual repulsion with the slime mold. In theory, slime mold can devour any organic matter, yet it cannot consume the hyphae formed by the Na fruit. Even the gnawers we captured showed a distinct aversion to the fruit, refusing to eat it. I'm wondering if there's a possibility... that this is actually a new problem cooked up by some shelter or research institute trying to solve the slime mold." Hearing those words, Chu Guang suddenly understood, if only for an instant, why the Academy had relocated to the swamplands. The most dangerous things on the wasteland weren't radioactive fallout or mutant slime mold, but madmen whose intellect far outstripped ordinary mortals. Every broodmother possessed a degree of "self-limitation," but this Na fruit expanded practically without bounds. If the entire world were planted with this thing, eighty percent of the slime mold would be wiped out, but the Na fruit would become the new slime mold, utterly overhauling the rules of the entire ecosystem. In a verdant hell, mutants would grow even more robust, while humans would probably turn into... green-skinned goblins? For now, the Alliance had yet to observe the long-term symptoms of prolonged Na fruit consumption; the "case" in Dust Town merely demonstrated the aftermath of withdrawal. The young man who had tasted the forbidden fruit had been tortured half to death by the pathogens embracing the Na fruit and the "belatedly awakened" immune system inside his body. The players there had given the patient some antibiotics, but the effect was negligible, and his subsequent condition remained under observation. "In short, there's no need to panic and frighten ourselves, but an unrefined research product like this had better be kept under strict control... An immune system coexisting in harmony with viruses is no laughing matter. Treat small issues as non-issues, and even the tiniest problem can fester into a catastrophe. Besides, if someone turns into a walking incubator for disease, others could still be infected even without eating the fruit, right?" "Right," Chu Guang said, nodding at Heya's solemn expression. "While you were conducting your research, I already initiated an emergency protocol to purge the substance from the market." Heya offered a faint smile. She started to say something, then let out a soft sigh and adopted a teasing tone. "I originally intended to complain and tell you to stop yanking me away from my work for other tasks—I'm not the only researcher in the Alliance, after all... But suddenly, I feel a little sorry for you." "Sorry for me?" Chu Guang chuckled. "Did I hear that right?" "You must have been meeting with representatives from other survivor settlements just now, right?" Heya cast him a sympathetic glance, muttering with mixed emotions. "If only those fools had a few more brain cells to rub together. At the very least, they could understand that not everyone has as much free time as they do..." As she spoke, a rare flash of resentment crossed her eyes. Chu Guang knew the fools she referred to weren't Alliance citizens, but the residents of her hometown—Shelter 117. They had originally lived an orderly life within the shelter, but because a portion of the population harbored distrust, and ultimately hatred, toward their Administrator and the shelter project, the entire vault had met its doom. The original "Torch" had been born within Shelter 117, transforming into a faith over the two decades that followed. Chu Guang didn't know how to comfort this girl who had "crossed over" from twenty years ago, but he hoped she could break free from those dark memories. "I'm not Seven, and the residents of Shelter 404 aren't the residents of Shelter 117. Every shelter has its own mission. I wouldn't presume to claim your Administrator knew nothing; perhaps he had his reasons and hidden circumstances beyond our understanding. But putting yourself in your residents' shoes, they could have returned to the surface like saviors, yet were forced by their Administrator's orders to bear children in a cramped hole in the ground. Their panic and despair regarding the future are understandable." "You actually understand them?!" Seeing Heya stare at him with wide, incredulous eyes, Chu Guang explained patiently. "Understanding does not equate to agreement. The greatest lesson your Administrator's log taught us is to 'never abandon communication just because communication is difficult,' not that 'the ignorant majority isn't worth understanding.'" Heya huffed softly. "Fine, at least we share one piece of common ground: we both agree those people were plenty stupid... My shift is over. This lady is off to enjoy the celebration. My sympathy was completely wasted on you!" Chu Guang smiled faintly. "Go ahead. I recommend spreading a bit of berry jam over pork liver; the tartness cuts the bitterness. It's our latest unlocked recipe." "Blehh! I'm putting cumin on it!" Heya hung up. Watching the motes of light dissipate from the holographic screen, Chu Guang couldn't help a wry smile. He could tell her mood had improved slightly, and that she had found some measure of peace with her past. Though she and Yin Fang possessed starkly different personalities, they had grown up in similar environments, both fundamentally rational materialists. She would certainly understand what he had truly meant to convey. ... Just like the previous celebration. Once night fell, brilliant fireworks erupted over Dawn City. Pedestrians streaming through the streets paused one after another, raising their heads to admire the dazzling spectacle. Even people far away in Boulder City could catch a glimpse of the luminous glow through the fissures of the concrete ruins. "...Mr. House was right again. They really are venting their ammunition in impotent rage." Standing at the edge of the industrial zone, Kent muttered to himself, having just finished his day's labor. A few months ago, he had led the cannery workers to surround City Hall, demanding that Alliance goods be thrown out of Boulder City because Alliance factories were stealing their jobs. That had unquestionably been the highlight of his life. Dulong, usually so high and mighty, had broken out in a cold sweat. Not only had Kent secured his job as desired, but he had also received a pouch of chips from Alec, the security captain. Word had it that thanks to his earth-shaking, righteous deed, the Alliance had plunged into dire inflation, with daily wages of 1 silver coin skyrocketing into double digits. It boggled the mind how those people even survived. Still, he occasionally envied the folks in the northern outskirts. The lackeys from City Hall dared to kick the workers' behinds, but they would never dare bully the paupers of the Alliance, nor even lay a finger on their vassals. After all, those people were so destitute they had nothing left but guns, whereas the folks here wore shoes. One couldn't afford to push them over the edge. Walking beside him, Sberg glanced at Kent's heavily patched jeans and muttered, "Hey, do you really believe Mr. House?" "You don't?" Seeing Kent raise his eyebrows as though ready to throw a punch, Sberg hadn't expected him to be so worked up and hastily corrected himself. "I believe him, of course I do... We're undoubtedly one of the victors, too. But why aren't we celebrating the victory?" Kent's eyes bulged, his neck flushing red with anger. "Are you out of your mind? This is the wasteland! Where would we get the supplies to throw a celebration?" Certain Kent wasn't about to hit him, Sberg continued cautiously. "But I heard that yesterday, or the day before, someone saw Bank President Melvin leaving the city with great fanfare, taking his precious daughter with him. I also heard that quite a few Inner City nobles went over to the Alliance days ago just to wait for the celebration to start. Several top mercenary corps have been booked solid through next month..." Kent said impatiently, "They went there to eat and drink." Sberg stared at him blankly. "To... eat and drink?" "Yes! Exactly!" Kent seemed to be wrestling with some invisible foe, perhaps irked by his coworker's bewildered look, or perhaps merely suffering from a spike of hyperthyroidism, leaning in to glare at him. "What of it? We're their creditors! What's wrong with eating their food? I hope they gorge themselves tonight! Better yet, come back bursting at the seams!" Sberg hastily raised his hands. "No... nothing's wrong. I think you're completely right. Let's hope they work up an enormous appetite tonight and eat our investment back." If only they could spit a mouthful of broth back for us. Perhaps satisfied by Sberg's intimidated demeanor, Kent calmed down slightly. His tone grew more patient as he began laying out his reasoning. "Lister is the biggest factory owner in the Alliance, and he's one of us! That's the best proof! Alliance residents come here to open black cards the moment they make some money, but not a single Inner City noble would ever go become one of their shelter dwellers. Doesn't that prove plenty?" Watching Kent babble on, Sberg felt a sudden pang of pity. But he dared not let it show on his face, for that would require explaining why he felt pity—something entirely out of the question. He was a timid man. He only found a shred of courage when reading the newspaper aloud. He couldn't fathom why Kent would speak on behalf of the lords who held all the capital, but at this moment, he had no desire to catch a fist. Seeing Kent waiting for his response, Sberg nodded cautiously. "Of course." "I have no doubt Mr. House is right." ... "Haha, congratulations! To our friends! The best friends Boulder City has!" In the Alliance's banquet hall. Dressed impeccably, Xide raised his glass in excitement. Seeing Chu Guang appear in the hall, he was about to step forward for a toast, but before he could close the distance, the man had already moved elsewhere. "...Tsk. What's he showing off for!" A flicker of annoyance flashed through Xide's eyes. Deflated, he moved to set his glass back on the long table to cover his awkwardness. Just then, another glass gently clinked against his. "Drinking alone?" Seeing Lister standing before him, Xide's eyes lit up. He laughed heartily, downed the wine in his glass, and clapped a hand on Lister's shoulder. "You're the one who gives me face, my friend!" Lister was a nouveau riche from the Inner City, so Xide naturally recognized him. In fact, Xide had helped him secure that black card in the first place. It had been in this very banquet hall. This kid had pulled him aside wanting to pitch a deal. Honestly, Xide hadn't been terribly interested back then; after all, rolling up one's sleeves to grub for money wasn't considered dignified in Boulder City. Lately, however, he had gradually come to appreciate the joy of skyrocketing wealth. He didn't need to understand how to balance logistics surpluses, how to regulate labor roles, or even what products turned a profit. All he had to do was lift a finger, tossing chips like darts, and someone would handle all the trivial details and deliver results to his utmost satisfaction. "Naturally," Lister replied with a slight smile. He took a polite sip, set his glass down, and said in a refined tone, "After all, we're on the same side." "Ha! You're the best! Honestly, those country bumpkins in the northern outskirts make terrible trading partners. Crude and ill-mannered! They invited us over, only to pawn me off on Luka. I heard the old man used to be a serf! They must be out of their minds, letting a dirt-scratcher become mayor! Still, Melvin was right: there's no reason to hold a grudge against chips. You know the feeling, don't you? Doing business with marauders." To avoid offending anyone, Xide kept his voice down so only the two of them could hear. A friendly smile remained on Lister's face as he nodded. "Indeed. Shit doesn't taste good... The chips they hand over are always slick with grease, reminding me of bones and meat scraps floating in a scalding cauldron of oil." "Spot on! I'd love to sit and listen to your legendary tales—not just anyone can trade with marauders!" Xide gave him a thumbs-up, his eyebrows dancing. "But I haven't eaten yet. Can we chat while we grab some food... something on the lighter side?" Lister smiled. "Of course. I know of a great deal, though I'm not sure if you'd be interested." The moment he heard there was an opportunity to make money, delight broke across Xide's face. He trusted Lister completely—not only because the man owed him plenty of favors, but because Lister had already become one of their own. "I'm extremely interested! My friend, I knew you wouldn't let me down! You always bring us fresh entertainment!" Lister offered a faint smile. "The Alliance recently issued a type of bond." "What's that?" "A different form of debt," Lister said, packaging Chu Guang's concept to make the mechanics sound far less complicated. "You buy 100 chips' worth of bonds, and the Alliance automatically pays you 3 chips every year. After five years, they repay the 100-chip principal in full." Xide paused, smacking his lips in dissatisfaction. "Why so little?" He had money, but that didn't mean he was an idiot. Even the relief loans Boulder City extended to the Alliance carried a 5% interest rate! This offer had low interest, and it didn't even sound like compound interest. Who the hell would buy that? Expecting this reaction, Lister maintained his smile and took a gentle sip from his glass. "What if... I have special channels that allow me to secure bonds with a face value of 100 for an issue price of 90 chips?" The instant he heard that, Xide froze, his breathing quickening abruptly. "Doesn't that mean..." "A 10% profit right off the bat," Lister said meaningfully. "Not only that, but you still earn 3% interest every year. If you're interested in the ten-year maturity bonds, the interest rate goes up by another point, and the issue price is 85." "The Alliance honors the debt regardless of bearer, and bond trading is permitted. Right now, everyone's pockets are stuffed with chips, but the Alliance doesn't accept chips for contracts; they have to be exchanged for silver coins first, and the exchange for silver coins isn't unrestricted... So you understand, right? By purchasing bonds, you can indirectly share in the dividends of their growth." He wouldn't mention to Xide that as a primary distributor, his own purchase price was even cheaper. As for how the debt would be repaid in the future? That was too easy! Once the chips accumulated in the Alliance's coffers, wouldn't the value of those chips be dictated entirely by the Alliance? If Chu Guang's plan ultimately succeeded, then in the most extreme scenario, the wildly inflated circulation of chips would reduce them to a pile of useless plastic tokens. When the currency itself was worthless, who worried about repaying the debt? Whether matters would develop that far depended on the Administrator's skill. Truth be told, Lister was surprised as well; he hadn't anticipated that the seemingly upright, honorable man possessed so many schemes up his sleeve, nor that his strikes would be so ruthless. Xide threw an arm around Lister's shoulders, fanaticism burning in his eyes. His expression was that of a man who had found a blood brother, terrified that Lister might keep the spoils to himself. "Brother! You have to cut me in! I've made so many chips, I haven't the faintest idea what to invest them in!" "Without question," Lister said, patting his shoulder with a gentle, reassuring tone. "My friend, have you forgotten?" "We're on the same side." ... Chu Guang had originally been resigned to missing tonight's fireworks display, unable to spare even a few minutes to watch from the bridge of the Heart of Steel. There were simply too many guests to receive. Whether corporate representatives or delegates from neighboring survivor settlements, everyone wanted to exchange a few words with him on behalf of their people. They came to learn from his experience while seeing if they could hop aboard the speeding train that was the Alliance to share in the spoils. As the center of attention, Chu Guang experienced for the first time in his life what it felt like to be run completely off his feet. The line of people waiting to see him stretched from the auditorium doors all the way to the back kitchen. He had to distill vast amounts of information into three sentences or less, all while committing every representative and settlement he spoke with to memory as best he could. Fortunately, he had Xiao Qi's assistance. Yet for some reason, right when he was about to meet the sizable contingent of Boulder City nobles, Xiao Qi suddenly turned willful. The AI insisted that the fireworks it had worked so hard to design were about to end, demanding that he step outside to watch them no matter what. Otherwise, it wouldn't help out next time! Left with no alternative, Chu Guang had originally planned to exchange pleasantries with the Boulder City nobles, but unable to withstand Xiao Qi's persistent badgering, he could only impose on Old Luka to step in and handle the courtesies with the Inner City aristocracy. As for the matter of the bonds... Chu Guang was confident that even without his direct involvement, Lister would handle things with flying colors. The man was clever. He knew what needed to be done... ... Outside the grand auditorium. Chu Guang found a quiet, secluded spot and tilted his head up to watch the fireworks blooming across the night sky. It turned out firing fireworks from the deck guns of the Heart of Steel was breathtaking. No wonder so many people had stood frozen that night, staring up at the sky. His neck was growing sore. When the final burst of fireworks finally faded, Chu Guang couldn't help murmuring in admiration, "Quite beautiful." Perched on his shoulder, swinging her little legs, Xiao Qi wore a delighted smile, resting her hands proudly on her hips. "Hehe, right?" Chu Guang glanced at the little creature with exasperation. "Still, there was plenty of time before the fireworks ended, wasn't there? Why couldn't you wait until I finished meeting the Boulder City delegates before coming out?" Xiao Qi pouted. "Xiao Qi doesn't like them... Master shouldn't waste time on them. It's much better to come out and watch Xiao Qi's performance!" Did artificial intelligences have standards of good and evil as well? Chu Guang couldn't help finding it rather marvelous. "How did they offend you?" Xiao Qi declared self-righteously, "They didn't! Master dislikes them, so Xiao Qi dislikes them too!" Chu Guang paused briefly, then smiled and shook his head. "You little rascal..." There were plenty of things he disliked. Strictly speaking, there were no absolute saints or villains on the wasteland. Pure evil and absolute benevolence were equally rare here; the most common reality was uninhibited chaos and savagery. If one couldn't tolerate a single grain of sand, yet refused to compromise on one's methods, the end result would be turning into an extreme, twisted monstrosity like the Enlightenment Society. Those zealots firmly believed that whether it was the Post-War Reconstruction Committee or the survivor settlements on the wasteland, everything was thoroughly corrupt and degenerate compared to the glorious Prosperity Era, and thus had to be resolutely eliminated by physical force! In their eyes, the Alliance, which mingled with ordinary wastelanders, was simply hopelessly misguided. Because of that, reforming a devout disciple of the Enlightenment Society was even harder than reforming a marauder. As for Xiao Qi... Perhaps because it cared too much about his feelings and had absorbed an enormous amount of unfiltered information, it had been slightly influenced. From its expression, Chu Guang could roughly deduce that the Inner City nobles must have been disparaging him behind his back, which Xiao Qi had "accidentally" overheard. Constrained by his orders not to act against them, it could only express its displeasure in this fashion. Back in the royal palace of Falcon City, he had already scolded it for trying to be clever, and he trusted it wouldn't abuse its authority again. "...There are actually many people on this wasteland whom we dislike and disagree with. You've followed me for so long, you should know that by now." "In fact, the more familiar you become with them and the deeper you understand their inner thoughts, the more you feel they are hopelessly degenerate, and that extending a helping hand is both thankless and exhausting." Reaching out an index finger to gently rub Xiao Qi's little head, gazing at those wide, bewildered eyes, Chu Guang continued in a gentle tone. "Yet we allow them to live. We give them enough time to change, give them opportunities, and even pull them forward when necessary." "That is what the Alliance is." A place where survivors united and came together— Huddled for warmth amidst the ruins.