My Boy Has Made Good!

On the wasteland, a settlement of over five hundred thousand people was considered massive, but when it came down to it, it was still just five hundred thousand people. If placed in Triumph City or Ideal City, a disturbance of several thousand would amount to nothing more than a sneeze. Yet in Boulder City, where grievances had festered for ages, that sneeze became the fuse that detonated every brewing crisis, nearly blowing the city's front teeth clean out of its mouth... At noon the following day, Alec, security chief of the Weijia Trading Firm, rubbed his red, brandy-blossomed nose and crawled out from a mountain of liquor bottles. Sometimes he felt he was actually an Awakened himself, just awakened in a less obvious way. Once, accompanying his boss to the northern suburbs and sitting in the lobby of a Highway Town inn, he had distinctly seen those blue jackets who claimed to be Awakened tap out after only five or six bottles, whereas he was a genuine bottomless pit. It was precisely for this reason that his boss always kept him at his side. On the one hand, his bulk was imposing enough to intimidate the malnourished workers; on the other, his drinking capacity was an indispensable diversion at parties. When the boss and his mistresses started laughing and ended up in each other's arms, Alec always had the good sense to act dead drunk. Shaking his groggy head, Alec picked up the clothes he had tossed aside and rolled his stiff neck, preparing to head back to the factory to sleep some more. But the private booth door slammed open with a bang, and a disheveled Weijia barged in frantically, followed by his stone-faced secretary, Aron. "Dammit, are you a pig? What time do you think it is, still sleeping!" Seeing the look on his boss's face, Alec instantly realized something was wrong. Ignoring his splitting headache, he hurriedly asked, "Boss, what happened?" "What happened? What the hell did you do with the task I gave you! Do you have any damn idea?!" Watching spit fly from Weijia's mouth, Alec felt bewildered. He scratched the back of his head and said cautiously, "You... do you mean that newspaper-reading guy, Sberg? I already contacted Philis and had him thrown in jail." Weijia was so furious his nose almost twisted out of shape. He barked in exasperation, "I told you to arrest *him*! I didn't tell you to arrest every single damn person! Without those paupers, who's going to work? Do you expect the assembly line to run by itself? Or are you going to step up?" Alec went pale with shock. "How is that possible! I—I saw Philis take only one man away!" "Well, now they're all inside!" Weijia ground his teeth viciously. "And now I have to figure out a damn way to fish them back out!" Behind him, Aron coughed softly. "I made some inquiries. The workers went in of their own accord. They claimed they would never abandon a fellow worker... That Workers' Association is the root of all evil. If we don't find a way to dismantle them, their numbers will spread like a virus. It won't threaten just one factory, but every single one of them." The Weijia Trading Firm owned far more than just the Good Taste Food Processing Plant; it held numerous food-related businesses throughout the city. Weijia's expression shifted slightly. "We have no choice but to ask Mr. Xide to handle this." Aron nodded. "I recommend the same... Also, it would be best to bring some people in from outside the walls. They won't be skilled, but the production line cannot stop." If he had any choice, Weijia would never want to trouble that lord, but the matter had escalated beyond his control. It was just like hoarding copper ore to hedge against inflation: when everyone did it, the trick to exploit the system fell apart, and in the end, only the Alliance's mines would be laughing. If only one person refused to work, you simply replaced them. But when everyone did it together, the threat of firing became a bad joke... To resort to such underhanded methods—these people had no morals whatsoever! Watching his boss turn to leave, Alec hurriedly followed, pulling on his clothes as he walked, muttering under his breath, "Are these people insane... crawling into jail on their own?" That place was pitch-black and suffocating. What could possibly be good about it?... *** Inside an inner city mansion. Xide sat on the sofa, staring unblinkingly at his trading terminal. His expression shifted from delight to a grim scowl, then suddenly he slapped his thigh and cursed, followed by another slap and a cheer of "Brilliant!" His mercurial moods kept even his most sycophantic servants at a distance, leaving only his wife, who was closest to him, by his side. Watching her husband on the sofa, Bonnie wore a fond, indulgent smile. She felt her husband was like a child sometimes, growing younger the older he got. "Darling," she said softly, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and leaning her elbow against the sofa, "you've been staring at that thing all day. Can't you spare a moment to look at me?" Xide tore his eyes from the palm-sized screen, looked at his charming wife, and forced his stiff facial muscles into a smile. "I'm just looking... looking at our son's achievements." Bonnie couldn't help feeling a twinge of disappointment. He hadn't even noticed she had switched perfumes. That palm-sized screen seemed to have cast a spell on him, holding his attention hostage. Completely oblivious to his wife's disappointment, Xide was basking in smug satisfaction. Through repeated swing trading and a modest additional bet of six million chips, the value of the S-coins in his account was approaching ten million! This investment was unquestionably worth it. Just moments ago, those ten million chips' worth of S-coins had leaped up another step, becoming eleven million! He had already earned back his supplementary investment! A broad smile spread across Xide's face. Making money really wasn't that hard after all... Perhaps this was a gift of noble bloodline. Whenever he thought of this, he couldn't help swelling with pride for his son. That brat had truly made good! He was his flesh and blood, through and through! He hoped the relationship between Kermit and Kish would remain as close as that of their fathers—as tight as he and Melvin were—carrying this unbreakable bond into the next generation. That was far more important than building some grand enterprise. Landowners were mere landowners because they didn't understand unity; when the wolf came, they could only run with their tails between their legs. Aristocrats were aristocrats because a court was never just one man's court; even if a wolf came, it would only end up as another dish on their banquet table. Just then, the butler stepped forward from the side and gave a slight bow. "Master, Mr. Weijia is outside." "Weijia?" Xide frowned. "What is he doing here?" The butler bowed. "He said... he has a matter of utmost urgency that requires your attention, and he is already waiting downstairs." Bonnie rose from the sofa and planted a peck on her husband's cheek. "Business comes first. Whether it's Lester or Weijia, they're good men who work hard for us, so don't snub him. You go ahead; I'll step out." Xide nodded, looked at the butler, and cleared his throat. "Send him up." "Understood." The butler bowed slightly and turned to leave. A moment later, Weijia hurried in from down the hall. The scent of liquor on Weijia made Xide frown slightly, but suppressing his annoyance, he said calmly, "What has you in such a hurry?" Weijia said frantically, "My Lord, terrible news!" "Cut the nonsense and get to the point." Setting the trading terminal on the table, Xide glanced at the screen and spoke impatiently. "Our... our factory workers have all been arrested!" With a mournful face, Weijia recounted the events of yesterday. Xide was taken aback, unable to grasp it at first, and repeated the words to untangle cause and effect. "You bribed the industrial zone guards to arrest that newspaper-reading pauper... and then the rest of the workers were arrested too? Just have them released. What's the problem?" That shouldn't be difficult at all. Weijia didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "No... that's not it! The workers went inside on their own!" "Lunatics!" Xide shot him a glance. "Why do you care about them? If those paupers want to sit in a cell, let them sit there." "But... more than half the factory is empty, and it's not just our factory. My Lord... one troublemaker is nothing to fear, but a swarm of troublemakers becomes a festering boil! This is no minor issue! It's an omen of a catastrophe! You... no, we must do something!" Weijia swallowed hard, pleading earnestly. More than half the factory was empty? Xide froze for a moment, beginning to grasp the gravity of the situation, and grew serious. It wasn't hard to understand. It was like his housemaids. They were replaced often enough, but that was fine; he was a generous master who never forced them to stay and would even give speeches at their weddings. However, if all the maids resigned at once, he would certainly never agree. After all, he couldn't let the filthy hands of a male servant comb his wife's hair, could he? "Tell me what you have in mind." Weijia explained patiently, "I looked into it thoroughly. The whole thing started with a fellow named Sberg—the troublemaker who reads newspapers. He formed something called a Workers' Association... That thing is the root of all evil." "And what has he actually done?" "For now, nothing yet... wait, you can't say he did nothing either—" "Enough, enough," Xide interrupted his rambling impatiently. "A single cockroach. Just kill him and be done with it." Weijia startled at the bluntness and hurriedly said, "That... that won't do, My Lord! We can't do that! Stepping on a cockroach is easy, but its eggs will scatter everywhere! Even if we eliminate him, it must be done quietly, without giving anyone ammunition against us." Xide was amused by the coward's answer. A joke. Since when did a noble of his standing need to explain himself to anyone after killing somebody? Even if an explanation was needed to appease the outer city's outrage, that was Dulong's headache. Otherwise, what was the point of keeping that dog around? Still, seeing Weijia's desperate pleading, Xide decided to let it slide. Averting his gaze from the coward, he looked back at the trading terminal on the table and said indifferently, "Fine. I'll make a phone call in a bit." Weijia asked cautiously, "Who do you plan to task with it?" Xide said impatiently, "I'll find a convict to take out that S-whatever guy. That work for you? We won't use our own people." He knew how to handle such details; he wouldn't just burn down a house like those hotheaded brats Kermit and Kish. Finding a desperate outlaw on the wasteland was too easy. The people willing to do his bidding could line up from his feet all the way to the gate of the great wall. "It's Sberg... I know you wouldn't get it wrong, My Lord, just making sure," Weijia reminded him timidly. Though it wasn't the best method—he leaned more toward bribery and sowing division—his boss clearly had no patience for such tedious work. In truth, it wasn't unworkable either. He would just let this lord have his way. Seeing that Xide seemed disinclined to pay him any more attention, Weijia muttered a few words, preparing to take his leave, only to notice the lord's eyes remained glued to the screen on the table. He recalled seeing something similar in his son's hands. Supposedly, Kermit and Kish had urged the boy to buy into it—something called S-coins. Although he scoffed at it, he hadn't stopped his son and had even given the boy a hefty sum of money. After all, Xide was his master, and Melvin was his master's friend. Even if S-coins sounded foolish, currying favor with those two giants was wise. What he hadn't expected was that the illustrious Lord Xide was playing it himself, and thoroughly enjoying it—his breathing and heartbeat seemed to follow the rhythm of those rising and falling lines... Intuition told Weijia this was ill-advised, but it wasn't his place to intervene. "My Lord... what is that thing? It looks quite novel." To flatter his interest, Weijia pretended to see it for the first time, asking curiously. Finding common ground, Xide's interest in him rekindled. He turned to look at this aging old dog and said with glowing enthusiasm, "S-coins! I've already made a million—ahem, the maid who combs my wife's hair has already earned a million chips! It's a magnificent investment project. Even uneducated folks can make a fortune." A noble personally stepping down into the mud to chase chips was unseemly. When chatting with his wife yesterday, he had recalled that this was supposedly an ancestral rule. Not that it mattered. He and his peers were always dignified anyway; they could follow the rules and stay within bounds without needing to consciously remember them. Seeing Weijia's rapt curiosity, Xide decisively produced an unregistered trading terminal and pressed it into his loyal servant's hands. "Take it and play with it. Ponder it when you have time. My friend, times have changed. The old ways of making money don't work anymore. You must learn to keep up with the times to match the pace of the young." "I hope that one day, you too can become a true aristocrat." Taking the trading terminal with both hands, Weijia was moved to tears—not because the generous Lord Xide was willing to take him along to make money, but because of that phrase: *My friend.* Friend... What a wonderful word! It had been so, so long since he had heard Lord Xide address him with such warmth. His money, his collections, the women he fancied—as long as Lord Xide wanted them, he would offer them up generously, just as his father had done before him. Yet Lord Xide would rather call that stray mongrel from outside, Lester, a friend multiple times than call him one... even though they were on the same side! They had grown up together! Yet today! He had heard that long-lost, affectionate address once again! It was worth it! "I will remain forever loyal to you... Master." Tears welled in Weijia's eyes, and he unconsciously clenched his fists. "I—I will surely repay your grace!" "Why speak so mushily?" Xide shot him a sidelong glance, waved his hand in good spirits, and chuckled. "Off with you now, and don't forget the real business." "Yes..." Weijia lifted his sleeve and secretly wiped away a tear. Bowing as he retreated from the parlor, he followed the butler into the elevator. It was not until he left the building and rejoined Aron and Alec that he wiped away the tears and joy crisscrossing his wrinkles. Aron said nothing. Alec scratched the back of his head, bewildered by the tear stains at the corners of his boss's eyes... He had never seen tears on the face of this ruthless crocodile. Weijia said nothing either. He merely gestured with his hand and led the two out of the inner city in silence. Stopping at the boundary between the inner and outer cities, he looked up at the bustling streets nearby, wordlessly pulled a cigarette from his coat, and placed it between his lips. Alec immediately whipped out a gold-trimmed lighter, stepping forward obsequiously to light it for his boss, only to be shoved aside by Weijia. "Get lost." Cursing under his breath, Weijia fished a box of matches from his pocket, struck one a few times until it flared to life, and lit the cigarette himself. Amid billowing clouds of smoke, the flame flickered dimly. The acrid smoke blurred the prosperous streets, making it feel as though the entire world were submerged in it, yet also as though he were the only one anesthetized. Was this... the wasteland? Marauders dared not eat people here, mercenaries dared not run wild here, two-headed hyenas could not enter, and only docile cats rubbed against the shoes of pretty girls. It was a pity he had never visited the paradise of two centuries ago and had no idea what a true utopia looked like... If only there were some way to catch a single glimpse. Weijia narrowed his eyes, took several deep drags, then threw the half-smoked butt to the ground and crushed it violently under his heel. Alec didn't dare make a peep. Clutching the lighter, he watched his boss with trepidation. The boss was acting strange today. He never lit his own cigarettes, much less stamped out cigarette butts. "Aron, we've lost." Gazing toward the line where the sky met the giant wall, Weijia spoke abruptly. Aron blinked slightly. Looking at his boss's expression, he understood instantly. After a brief silence, he nodded wordlessly. Hadn't they already lost? He had assumed the boss had realized it last month; he hadn't expected even the cunning Mr. Weijia to have moments of delusion. A sudden wave of panic gripped Alec. He couldn't understand a word the two were saying, let alone where they had lost or to whom. "Boss... what's wrong? Is that bastard Sberg bothering you? I'll go teach him a lesson right now!" "S... heh, what kind of insignificant thing is he to be mentioned in the same breath as me?" Weijia shook his head and gave a self-deprecating scoff. "I only just realized it. This is a damn war." "W-war?" Alec was stunned, his brows furrowing. "You mean... the Alliance instructed Sberg to incite those workers?" The Alliance? Haha. What a naive soul, still wanting to lose with some shred of dignity at the very end. Weijia looked at the dog he had raised. He wanted to mock him for amusement, but quickly realized that, deep down, he wasn't all that different from him. Disinterested, he shook his head. "Yes, a war. If you can't grasp what it means that 'our war with the wasteland never ended,' then just think of it however your little brain can manage." "This is a war—our war against the Alliance. The northern bumpkins and blue mole rats finally couldn't hold back and attacked, and it started as early as the festival a month ago. They secretly hid artillery shells inside the fireworks, while our honorable Lord Melvin and Lord Xide eagerly went over to celebrate their milestone... Ha, I'm an idiot too. Only now do I realize that a prominent figure like me ended up crouching in a trench dug by fools." How ironic. He had been clever his entire life, yet this time, he only saw everything clearly after they had already lost. In truth, it wasn't as if they never had a chance to prove something to the wasteland. If only Melvin had consulted him at the beginning—pity Melvin couldn't be bothered to pay attention to a lapdog like him. If only Lord Xide had valued this loyal old hound a little more—pity the lord looked down more and more on his old servant's abilities. If only Sberg and those 'fellow workers' were slightly more mature and mindful of the bigger picture; if only the puppet Dulong had spent a little effort soothing them; if only that lunatic House had used his brain and drafted a proper script before lying to the public... Of course, he was no innocent white lotus himself, nor was he a good person. If he had taken a smaller bite, they might at least have weathered the coming Tide. Yet what meaning was there in that? The wasteland wouldn't end just because one survived a single Tide. And who in this city wasn't a gambler? House, rambling on the radio, knew full well those paupers couldn't possibly develop diabetes; perhaps he had simply lost his shirt and deliberately raised his voice to cause trouble. Dulong at City Hall knew full well his old pal Governor Melvin was running an exceptionally perilous gamble. But as long as the paupers had work, they wouldn't cause him trouble, and the nobles would only push him forward to take the blame just as they had five years ago. So instead of turning a blind eye, he even lent Melvin a hand... In the end, the only one genuinely acting in Boulder City's best interest was that fool Jaeger, mocked by nobles and paupers alike. Though he harbored no pure intentions either, merely wanting to replace his superior Dulong and become the man holding the whip. And Melvin knew full well that sitting across from him was an exceptionally dangerous, ruthless character—a man who had sent several Legion tribunes fleeing for their lives. There was no remorse on Weijia's face, only a faint mockery—directed at himself, and at everyone in this city. It was a pity that this closing numbers game had nothing to do with mathematics. Their opponent wasn't sophisticated; his technique was even clumsy, needing to borrow a few cards from their hands. Perhaps a fool could do better, for a fool had boundless strength in a tug-of-war, whereas clever men had far too many choices. Hadn't the Wilante done quite well? If not for Boulder City's factories and the enterprise's economic and diplomatic cudgel, the Alliance and those reckless blue jackets alone could never have won—or at least, not so easily. Of course, Weijia didn't deny that the latter was the true core; everything else was merely icing on the cake. "...I think you might be overthinking it, Boss," Alec said gingerly. "Our weapon stockpiles and scale are still superior to the Alliance's... We can flip the table at any moment. They wouldn't dare fight us." "Haha, weapons? Flip the table?" Weijia finally couldn't hold back his laughter. He looked at the bewildered Alec and quipped, "Truly a dog of my own breeding! I'm hoping the assembly line will run by itself, and you're hoping the damn table will flip itself over! You're a certified genius, aren't you!" War was no game. The Alliance had already demonstrated once how total war was fought. The entire Alliance was united from top to bottom, twisted together like a single thick cord, abandoning all illusions—those with muscle contributed muscle, those with brains contributed brains. Their Administrator didn't just deliver rousing wartime mobilizations, using the simplest language to tell Alliance residents that they were going to slaughter a ravenous wolf, why they were going to slaughter it, and why they were capable of winning; he personally led the vault dwellers onto the front lines. Naturally, their opponents weren't pushovers either. Though the Legion hadn't dared escalate the scale of the war, those Wilante officers had been on the front lines in person; otherwise, their tribunes wouldn't have been captured by the Alliance one after another, nor would Griffin have played a second card after every battlefield setback. And Boulder City?... Asking Lord Xide to lead a charge, or having the militia lords who couldn't wait to dump every ounce of work onto mercenaries march to the front lines? Weijia couldn't even picture the scene. Besides, it wasn't as though their mercenaries had never fought the northern bumpkins before. Armed with the finest gear, they had suffered the most brutal beatings—and back then, there wasn't even an Alliance yet, and the bumpkins were mostly using obsolete pipe rifles. Attempting mass mobilization without mobilization capacity was no different from pulling the plug on an ICU bed. Never mind leading everyone to flip the table; the one who feared flipping it most was Lord Xide himself. Fortunately, that gave an old dog like Weijia enough time to prepare for a rainy day. Yes. Weijia intended to run. To be completely honest, he was the most reluctant to leave Boulder City. Here, aside from the wives and children of other nobles whom he dared not touch, he could do whatever he pleased to anyone below him, and the wasteland outside had nothing to do with a big shot like him. At first, Weijia hadn't understood Lester's choice. The Alliance clearly wouldn't love him, yet he had insisted on pressing his warm face to their cold behind. Nor did he understand why that fellow Fred had sold off his factory at a steep discount. Now, he suddenly understood. He knew he wasn't a good person. If Lord Xide was rotten to the core, then he was completely depraved—yet he was slightly smarter in the end. After all, he knew how to use chips to flatter Lord Xide, whereas his Lord Xide expected to use the very chips Weijia had offered up to leash him in return... What a shame. To the very end, that lord never knew what Weijia actually wanted. What he wanted was love. To be loved. He was greedy, but he had ceased to lack money ages ago. Hadn't he gone to all the trouble of securing a black card just so his childhood companion, Lord Xide, might look at him with respect? Yet he felt he was still a dog—one from birth, for generations, and now with the leash pulled even tighter. Perhaps Lester was right: true dignity wasn't ponds of wine and forests of meat, but self-respect. It didn't make a person elegant or noble, but it stopped them from being an animal, making them a person with societal worth. On a wasteland capable of grinding men into ghosts, that was something no amount of chips could buy. Deep in their hearts, people yearned for it, were willing to die for it—and Lord Xide had hoarded it all for himself. Poor Xide... Weijia was truly reluctant to leave his old partner. Yet the ship was sinking; it was time to say goodbye. To hear 'my friend' one last time... He was satisfied. Glancing at Alec, who still hadn't come to his senses, Aron stepped to his boss's side and asked in a low voice, "Should we contact the guest from the north?" "Contact them... Yes, I'll speak with that lord personally. After all, there are too many 'goods' to sell; this can't be packed up and hauled off in a day or two. By the way, you must do something for me: Sberg cannot die, and not a single member of the Workers' Association can die. Only then can we do what needs to be done with justification." Weijia pondered for a moment, and suddenly recalling something, the gloom vanished from his face. He hooked his arms around his two subordinates' shoulders with a smile and gave them a firm pat. "Ah, don't worry... I'll double your pay after this. Though we might have to pay your wages in silver coins from now on, so prepare yourselves mentally." Alec looked slightly disappointed, but after a second thought, his face broke into a grin. That wasn't bad either. After all, the dancing girls across the street were already accepting silver coins, and some had even taken up currency exchange on the side. Aron said nothing. After all... Wasn't that only natural? *** The industrial zone. At the entrance of the Infinite Strength Steel Works, Fred looked at the three bosses from the Alliance and shook his head regretfully. "Apologies, but you're a step too late. That production line you mentioned... we sold it some time ago." Staring at this man who looked like he had walked straight out of a meme, Ye Shi froze on the spot, looking like a startled groundhog. "Huh?!" Days ago, Old Fang had set his sights on this steel works that supplied Boulder Military Equipment. The moment they finished their respective tasks, they rushed straight over from Dawn City. Who would have guessed someone was even faster than damn Fang Chang! That was inhuman! Lao Bai frowned and looked at Fred. "Would it be convenient to tell us who the buyer was?" He still wanted to try negotiating. "...Sun Steel Works. The man who came to negotiate was named Sun Shiqi. Seems he's a boss from your Alliance too. A strange one—he insisted on taking the workers with the contract, and even offered to cover the IOUs I handed out to brush those people off." Fred was feeling bewildered himself; he had sold too early. If he had waited for these people, he could have jacked up the price on the spot. Selling those machines for forty million chips had left him with a direct benefit of only two million silver coins. He had lost out big time! Ye Shi cursed in frustration, "Damn it! Someone beat us to the punch!" If it were an NPC from another faction, they could try persuading or bribing them. But an Alliance NPC... as Old Fang put it, there was no need to take that risk. Even just to avoid suspicion, it was best left untouched. After all, the player manual clearly stated that conducting illicit transactions by exploiting Alliance residents' trust in vault dwellers, once the sum exceeded a certain threshold, would bring the 'Faction Boss' down personally to pass judgment. In severe cases, offenders were deported back underground. According to the game's lore, they had sworn an oath beneath the flag of the Human Alliance before stepping onto this land. Shacking up and slacking off was fine, but screwing over their own people would definitely earn them the nerf hammer. "Don't fret. That wasn't my only production line; I've got plenty of good stuff," Fred said, his eyes darting as he noticed how keen the buyers were, smiling slyly to pitch them. "Besides, I can act as a broker and introduce you to other sellers interested in offloading their equipment." As long as the price was right, he could even handle the negotiations. Lao Bai didn't waste words and pulled out the list Fang Chang had written for him. "I have a list here. Can you contact the people in charge of the factories on it?" "Let me see... Huh? This list looks familiar." Fred rubbed his chin, then suddenly froze. Inhaling sharply, he stared at the trio before him. "Hiss, holy hell... Every single one on here is a supplier for Boulder Military Equipment! What are you trying to pull?!" Ye Shi cleared his throat, signaling him with his eyes to keep it down. "A coincidence... What we're after are their civilian production lines. The Alliance needs massive amounts of cement and rebar lately." Fred stared at him like he was looking at an idiot, his face practically screaming: *Do you think I'm brain-dead?* Lao Bai couldn't be bothered to explain, getting straight to the point. "That's right, we want them. If you can help us close the deals based on the prices on this list, we can pay you fifty thousand silver coins as a fee." Fred looked conflicted. After hesitating, he shook his head. "Too little! That's cutting the ground right out from under Mr. Ibers! You might not know this, but he answers directly to the city lord. Even the big shots in the inner city don't want to cross him. It wouldn't be right for me to help you—" Lao Bai continued without blinking, "Fifty thousand silver coins per acquisition project, deposited into your personal account. If you negotiate for us, we'll give you a twenty-percent cut of whatever you save under the budget." Hearing that, Fred beamed from ear to ear, nodding vigorously as if terrified they might change their minds. "Deal! No problem!" Brokering deals was child's play for him! He had skimmed the quoted list; the prices offered by these Alliance bosses were remarkably generous. In other words, he had enormous room to negotiate and could sell off that 'junk' at prices that would leave everyone thrilled. "By the way, why is it so deserted around here?" With the deal settled, Ye Shi glanced at the factory behind Fred with a puzzled look. He had heard from Fang Chang that this was one of the largest steel works in Boulder City, yet it felt like barely anyone was around. Fred coughed, looked left and right, and whispered, "You don't know? Yesterday... something happened. The jail's packed to the gills." Smelling gossip, Ye Shi perked up and asked curiously, "What happened?" "The root of it... I heard that over at the Good Taste Food Processing Plant, a worker secretly dismantled the wire on a cutter. And he happened to be a member of the Workers' Association, so you get the picture, right? Anyway, Weijia flew into a rage, and when he followed the trail, he discovered the 'head' of the Workers' Association was on his own assembly line..." Looking at the three Alliance bosses exchanging glances, Fred said with a sigh of regret, "My guess is those paupers wanted to use that trick to force Weijia to give them defective canned food. Pity their method wasn't very clever; Weijia is a notorious penny-pincher. Not that you can blame him—give an inch, and they'll take a mile. If I were Weijia, I'd do the same. You can never let freeloaders get a sweet taste!" Kuang Feng stared at him blankly, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. "Freeloaders? Seriously..." Ye Shi sighed. "As expected of the wasteland... Holy crap, this is dark as hell!" The two spoke in the language of another world. Fred couldn't understand what they were saying, but he had a feeling it wasn't praise. Lao Bai was a straightforward man and couldn't help chiming in using the Human Alliance language, "Did you ever think of improving their conditions? What do you mean, 'you can't blame Weijia'? If that idiot hadn't pushed things to the absolute brink, would his workers be looking for misery just for the fun of it?" Even though the game was virtual, and awful things abounded on the wasteland—petty profiteers were nothing compared to slavers—Lao Bai came from a country with socialist principles and remained deeply loyal to his beliefs. Seeing the face of this greedy merchant made him physically sick. The Niuma Brick Factory might have had 'draft animals' in its name, but that was just banter among the four brothers; everyone knew full well that the only true draft animals were the four bosses themselves. Even when the Alliance was at its poorest, they would rather feed themselves nutrient paste and ram horn potatoes so they could use the five coppers saved to buy fish for those not-so-clever NPCs, even when some of those NPCs were their captives. Fred couldn't understand these bizarre people either, merely shooting them an odd look. "Improve... the conditions of those paupers? That wouldn't be wise. If you've done business, you should know those paupers aren't good people. They'll try every trick to slack off, and the moment you show them a shred of kindness, they'll walk all over you. Besides, once people are full, they get lazy... Ah, of course, I'm not saying what you do is wrong. We just have different management methods." Ye Shi couldn't resist sneering, "Hilarious. You treat them like enemies, and you expect them to smile at you?" Seeing the three clients' expressions turn increasingly grim, Fred realized his flattery had landed squarely on a horseshoe. He hurriedly changed his tune, bringing the divisive topic to an abrupt close. Unsure of what these men were thinking, Fred didn't have the cheek to propose drinks for the evening. Pocketing the list, he made an excuse about pressing business and scurried off. He only wanted to sell his goods for a good price. While they could still be sold. Nothing more. Watching his retreating back, Ye Shi suddenly sighed. "What bothers me is that even if these bastards flee, they'll live far better than the people scraping by under them... and we still have to hand him silver coins so he can introduce clients. Dammit, what a crock!" Money thrown to the dogs! "That's money to buy his coffin. If he behaves and lives out the rest of his days like Old Brown, fine. But if he can't keep his hands clean and tries not only to make a comeback but also to bring Boulder City's playbook to our turf, we'll bankrupt him with fines as a matter of course... I remember the Administrator saying he would ensure more good people win in competition. I believe he'll keep his word." Lao Bai narrowed his eyes at the man's silhouette and continued, "These fleeing merchants might well become a threat. We need to keep a close eye on them and stay vigilant against them secretly finding ways to enslave our compatriots on our territory." It wasn't unheard of for new players to get scammed by NPCs, though that newbie had rushed to brag on the forums, and the scam was exposed instantly. An NPC trying to fleece players was a tall order. Ye Shi had a sudden brainstorm. "How about we write a proposal? Nail this guy's coffin shut so tight he won't have a single chance to pop back up!" Back then, the bill restricting organ trade had been created spontaneously by closed-beta players. Earth had a comprehensive legal system for them to reference, plus Old Fang to advise them, along with that smart-aleck Professor Yang and Proud Ye nitpicking every flaw. They could always put together a set of rules tailored to the wasteland's reality. Rules not just to bind players, but NPCs as well. Ever since Beta 0.4, they had realized the Alliance was no longer that tiny village of the past; they couldn't perpetually rely on wastelanders' loyalty to the Administrator. Take Fred before them, who was willing to sell his very soul. The concept of loyalty didn't exist in that man's dictionary. For profit, let alone calling black white, he would gladly grovel on the ground and kiss the Administrator's boots. As the Alliance grew larger, there would be more and more people like him—stealthier, and harder to distinguish. Hyenas that tucked their tails between their legs to play human couldn't all be killed with guns and gallows. Kuang Feng nodded approvingly. "Agreed." It was rare for the kid Ye Shi to come up with a mature idea. This idea was far more mature than lying on a rooftop taking potshots... As expected of his boy. He had finally made good!