Then Bring It On, We Don't Need Charity Peace

On the outskirts of Dawn City. At the airfield not far from the First Corps garrison, an Orca transport trailed a pale blue plume of plasma as it slowly touched down on the tarmac. Yi Chuan, who had just stepped out of a meeting not long ago, stood outside the apron. Seeing Minister Wu Changnian emerge from the cabin, he walked forward to greet him, extending his right hand with a warm smile. "Welcome, Minister Wu!" "Haha, Xiao Yi, long time no see!" Wu Changnian grasped Yi Chuan's hand while clapping him on the shoulder, sizing up the young man with a beaming smile. Compared to the rash rookie of last year, the kid had matured considerably. And just as he had expected, this place tempered people far better than he could have imagined. Clapping him firmly on the shoulder with his left hand, Wu Changnian released his grip and introduced the people behind him. "...Let me introduce them. These are personnel dispatched to Dawn City from the General Management Department. They will primarily assist you with the agenda regarding the slime mold. This is Qin Juncai. In accordance with the Council's resolution, he will serve as the Enterprise's representative to the Slime Mold Research Community from now on." The young man named Qin Juncai gave a modest smile, looking at Yi Chuan with deep reverence as he shook his hand enthusiastically. "It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Yi Chuan! I've been a fan of yours since I was back in Ideal City! When I heard I'd get to work with you, I was thrilled!" In the confrontation between the Enterprise and the Legion last year, they had successfully forced those swaggering barbarians back to the negotiating table and thwarted the Legion's expedition into the eastern Central Continent. The most outstanding performer among them had undoubtedly been the Enterprise's General Management Department—specifically the five representatives assigned to the Alliance from various subsidiaries. Not only had they forced the Legion to retreat back into the borders of the Falcon Kingdom at minimal cost, but they had also cemented the Enterprise's friendship with various survivor factions across eastern Central Continent. Especially the friendship with the Alliance. Now, not only in Yunjian Province, but even far off in River Valley Province in central Central Continent, the hope of ending the Wasteland Era had dawned. Flattered by such enthusiastic praise, Yi Chuan smiled sheepishly and replied with modest politeness. "You flatter me, Mr. Qin! I wouldn't dare claim such an honor. I was merely riding on the coattails of our forebears aboard the Pioneer." Qin Juncai shook his hand vigorously, smiling. "I'm not exaggerating in the slightest. Not only does this come straight from my heart, but it's also how many others see it! I look forward to your guidance in our future work." Yi Chuan smiled faintly. "Of course!" The drafting of the Slime Mold Research Community charter had entered its final stages. The staff arriving in Dawn City alongside Minister Wu Changnian were all assigned to the Enterprise's upcoming mission to the Community, and the young man named Qin Juncai was the Enterprise's representative to it. In rank, he was one tier below Yi Chuan, the Enterprise's ambassador to the Alliance, though both answered directly to the Council. The primary purpose of Wu Changnian's visit was to conduct an official foreign visit to the Alliance on behalf of the Enterprise, while also arranging the next phase of work for the Enterprise Embassy in the Alliance. After exchanging pleasantries, the group departed from the vicinity of the tarmac. Yi Chuan had originally arranged vehicles for them, but Wu Changnian had a sudden whim and proposed taking a stroll around the area. So the group walked toward North Street in Dawn City, planning to have dinner there before heading back to Embassy Street. Along the way, Wu Changnian took in the streets, constantly comparing them to the images in his memory. Yi Chuan quietly observed Minister Wu's expression. Although he couldn't spot major shifts across his superior's face, it wasn't hard to sense the surprise and shock leaking through his subtle micro-expressions. Clearly, the transformation here had caught him thoroughly off guard. While Yi Chuan was pondering this, Wu Changnian suddenly smiled and spoke up. "How have things been in Dawn City lately?" Snapping out of his thoughts, Yi Chuan quickly smiled and answered, "Tremendously lively!" "In what way?" "In every way!" Seeing Minister Wu's interest, Yi Chuan smiled and continued, "Take our flights, for example. We used to have one flight every two days from Ideal City to Dawn City, but now it's up to two flights a day. And it's not just our exchanges increasing—survivor settlements from all over have dispatched diplomatic missions here." Wu Changnian nodded approvingly. "It's a good thing that settlements are taking the slime mold issue seriously. The fear is that the newer generation of settlements might completely forget how the Wasteland Era came about." Yi Chuan's heart stirred, and he looked at him. "Then... does the Council agree to let the Legion join the Community?" Wu Changnian gave a faint smile and said, "Since we could shake hands with the Academy, we naturally have no reason to exclude the Legion. Besides, even the Alliance, which fought directly with the Legion, has no objection. If we were to oppose it, we'd just look petty." Yi Chuan's smile took on a hint of delight. If that was the Council's stance, the upcoming negotiations would be far smoother! Pausing, Wu Changnian suddenly added, "By the way, what about the Great Rift Valley? Have they made any moves?" Hearing Minister Wu bring up this unexpected name, Yi Chuan was briefly taken aback. After a momentary hesitation, he said, "The Great Rift Valley hasn't made any moves, but according to our intelligence... they have instructed the Bugra Free State to conduct a foreign visit to the Alliance, specifically regarding the Mutant Slime Mold Research Community." Wu Changnian pondered for a few seconds and slowly nodded. "Mm... that aligns with the Council's expectations." Yi Chuan frowned slightly. "I honestly don't quite understand. What is the Great Rift Valley... thinking?" Wu Changnian gave a faint smile. "What's so hard to understand? The old man who runs the Great Rift Valley once made a grave mistake, and he still broods over it to this day, terrified that meddling too much will cause a disaster to repeat itself... So you'll notice that not only is his oversight of Bugra conservative to an extreme, but his approach to all affairs on the wasteland is conservative to the point of complete passivity." Although the survivors of Bugra would certainly disagree, in Wu Changnian's eyes, that was undeniably the case. Not a single settlement in Yunjian Province had dared stab the Enterprise in the back when its clash with the Legion was in full swing. Yet Bugra had made a fortune off the war between the Great Rift Valley and the Legion's Eastern Expansionists, even triggering a province-wide man-made catastrophe. Had that old fogey intervened more decisively and thoroughly in time, the situation in Sunset Province would never have escalated to the point it reached last year. Then again, if not for that war and the turmoil of the Bone Chewers, the survivors of River Valley Province would never have united so smoothly. Confusion still lingered on Yi Chuan's face. "But so many years have passed... Shouldn't they have moved past it by now?" "To us, it has indeed been a long time—several generations. But to that old fogey, what happened a century ago is hardly any different from what happened yesterday; his perception of time has grown numb. Don't worry about him..." Wu Changnian pondered for a moment before speaking. "Let's get down to business. We need to bring the Bugra Free State in." Yi Chuan looked at him, puzzled. "Why?" Wu Changnian replied softly, "Without the Great Rift Valley's participation, much of the work cannot move forward. There are still many survivor settlements across the wasteland that buy into their credibility, especially those that received direct or indirect aid from the Reconstruction Committee. Bringing the Great Rift Valley directly to the table isn't realistic, but using their prodigal son can pull them in indirectly." Moreover— With the downfall of the Legion's Eastern Expansion faction, the Free State was no longer within the Legion's sphere of influence. In the Council's view, those fence-sitters were worth courting. "But... what if their 'son' causes trouble?" Facing Yi Chuan's hesitant expression, Wu Changnian gave a faint smile. "Those fellows can't kick up much of a storm, and buying them off isn't hard. The crux of the matter, however, is what our friends in the Alliance think. You can probe Chu Guang subtly to gauge his stance. The Council wants to give Bugra a chance, allowing them to join the Slime Mold Research Community as a secondary member, or in the form of an associate member—that's also acceptable." Yi Chuan committed the instructions to memory and nodded. "Understood." As the group passed down a street, they suddenly noticed a large crowd gathered not far ahead. Wu Changnian instinctively stopped and looked over curiously. The others halted in their tracks as well. "What's that?" Yi Chuan glanced over and quickly answered, "Looks like the Wilante camp." "Oh..." Wu Changnian nodded, a faint sneer tugging at the corner of his lips. "So it's those barbarians." Qin Juncai, following behind the two, took a couple of steps forward, looked over, and frowned. "They seem to have gotten into a conflict with the locals." Yi Chuan looked to Wu Changnian for instructions. "Should I go inquire?" Wu Changnian was about to nod when his gaze suddenly landed on a group of people turning the corner of the street. The smile on his lips took on a trace of amusement. "No need." "We can just watch from here." ... Half an hour earlier. Standing at the entrance of the Triumph City diplomatic mission's encampment, Lisa gazed uneasily toward the camp, wanting to ask someone, yet too apprehensive to approach. Just then, a voice laced with surprise came from the side. "Lisa?!" The voice sounded familiar. Lisa immediately turned to look and saw a girl in a linen dress holding a laundry basket, staring at her with wide eyes. She had the exact same light brown hair, only she was taller, with flecks of freckles dotting the tip of her nose. "Emil!" Muttering that familiar yet distant name, Lisa jogged forward in delight and took the hands of her equally thrilled friend. Both had been born as servants in Triumph City and had trained in laundry, cooking, serving tea, and pouring water at the same servant school. They had always been close. Later, Lisa had been chosen to board the Heart of Steel, following General MacLaren's command to the distant East. Before her departure, Emil had given her a handkerchief, which Lisa had later sewn onto her clothes, keeping it to this day. Lisa had almost forgotten the past, never expecting to reunite with her friend in a foreign land ten thousand kilometers away from Triumph City. Not only were Lisa's eyes filled with pleasant surprise, but Emil, gripping her small hands in return, also cried out in disbelief, "Thank goodness! You're safe! I heard you were captured and went missing at the hands of the River Valley Province wastelander scum. Did they... did they do anything terrible to you?" Slaves in Triumph City were protected under His Majesty the Marshal's laws; while they possessed no human rights or freedom, their lives were actually not that terrible. Compared to the slavery implicitly permitted in most survivor settlements across the wasteland, it resembled more of a wasteland-flavored "lifelong employment" system. Yet that was Triumph City; out on the wasteland, it was an entirely different story. In particular, the Triumph Gazette frequently sensationalized the cruelty of wastelanders in its reports, even conflating the term with marauders to bolster the military aristocracy's justification for expanding the Legion's territory. Consequently, after reading a few newspapers, Emil had firmly believed that her good friend had already been tortured to death by those wastelanders... "No... actually, they treat me pretty well," Lisa whispered, blushing. "They not only taught me how to read, but they also helped me find a job and pay me wages... I even bought some new clothes during the festival." Emil stared at Lisa in astonishment. However, when her gaze fell upon the oil-stained apron Lisa hadn't had time to change out of, her expression morphed into one reserved for a lunatic off their meds. After several moments, Emil gently patted Lisa's head, murmuring in pity, "My poor Lisa, what kind of potion did they feed you..." Lisa gave a helpless smile, not knowing how to explain. Just then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a group passing by the camp entrance and instinctively stood on tiptoe to peek. Noticing her movement, Emil blinked curiously. "What is it?" "Um..." Lisa's heart stirred, and she whispered to her, "Could you help me ask around about someone?" "Who?" Emil asked. "Please," Lisa continued, blushing. "His name... is Pangolin." Hearing that name, Emil froze, staring at her in sheer disbelief. "Lord Pangolin? Wait, you know him?" Lisa whispered with flushed cheeks, "...Back at Falling Leaves Ridge, I served him and took care of his daily routine. Later, when the war ended... I lost track of him." Although the so-called "service" had merely been washing a few articles of clothing, Emil clearly took it the wrong way. Her eyes took on a hint of ambiguity, tinged with a flicker of envy. "You actually served Lord Pangolin." "What's wrong...?" Lisa asked softly. Emil looked toward the camp, her gaze distant with wistful longing as she muttered like someone sleep-talking, "Nothing, it's just that he's extraordinary. Powerful, handsome, and achieving so much so young—he became a Millennium Commander before turning thirty! And as an outsider, he earned a genuine Two-Star Millennium Commander rank purely on military merits! In Triumph City, countless people look up to him as a role model... By the Marshal above, if only I could become that lord's maidservant." Confusion filled Lisa's eyes. There was astonishment, disappointment, but above all, bewilderment and helplessness. Only now did she suddenly realize the vast chasm between their stations. Leaving aside whether he even remembered her—and that she had merely washed a few clothes for him—even if something really had happened, there was no reason in the world he would spare a glance for her. Still... If she only wanted to say thank you in person, shouldn't that be fine? All she had wanted from the beginning was to thank him face to face for saving her from that living hell. She had never harbored delusions of... that sort of thing. Lisa gently bit the edge of her lip, her mind tangled like a ball of yarn for reasons she couldn't explain. Not noticing Lisa's expression, Emil suddenly grabbed her small hands, speaking excitedly, "I can't believe you actually know him! That's wonderful! Um... could you do me a favor?" "Huh?" Thinking she had misheard, Lisa froze, staring in bewilderment at Emil, who was now begging her for help. Looking bashfully at her friend, Emil hesitated for a moment, then lowered her voice. "Lord Pangolin isn't like the other lords. Whether dealing with slaves or retinue, he's always kind, even outside Triumph City. He doesn't go around groping and making unwanted advances like the others... Ah, of course, I'm not speaking ill of the other lords! But if only I could become his personal servant. I'll just say it straight: I want him to buy me. Can you help me?" Lisa stared blankly at her pleading friend, her mouth falling open. "Ah?! B-But... he... but..." Seeing Lisa stammering and at a loss for words, Emil lowered her voice further and rushed on, "Please, Lisa, for the sake of our years of friendship, help me! Secretly, I'll tell you—he's right inside that camp! I'll find a way for him to meet with you." Lisa stared at Emil in shock. "He's here?!" Just as her words fell, a sharp voice suddenly shrilled from nearby. "Emil! What are you doing?! I told you to wash the laundry! Is the laundry done?" It was the voice of an old woman. At the sound of it, Emil jumped like a mouse whose tail had been stepped on, scurrying several paces away from Lisa in sheer terror. "I-I'm done! I was just about to take it back to hang it up!" From the entrance of the camp, an old woman clad in a long black dress marched furiously toward them, barking, "Then what are you waiting for? Waiting for mushrooms to sprout on them?" Her face was etched with deep wrinkles twisted into a spiteful sneer. Judging by her bone structure, she might have been a beauty in her youth, but her current expression made it impossible to associate her with anything pleasant. Her piercing glare matched that of a Wilante officer, making Emil afraid to even breathe loudly. Facing the old woman, she bowed respectfully. "...No, Lady Sistir. Please forgive my clumsiness." Although Lady Sistir wasn't a Wilante, she was the head maid accompanying the mission—in other words, their direct superior. While not an exalted position, she could, to a certain degree, decide their life or death. Looking at Emil, who was sneaking pleading glances her way, Lisa gave a numb nod, signaling that she would help. Yet just as Lisa was about to wave goodbye, the old woman named Sistir suddenly noticed her. Her murky eyes darted over Lisa's hair, then quickly locked onto her eyes. Lisa instinctively averted her gaze, but the old woman, as if sensing something, narrowed her eyes into slits that gleamed with sharp hostility. "Are you... from Triumph City?" Terrified, Lisa kept her mouth shut and didn't answer. She took a step back, only for the old woman to grab her wrist and yank up her sleeve. There was a faint scar. Having her scar exposed, Lisa instinctively struggled to pull free, but that withered yet surprisingly strong arm clamped onto her like an iron vine. "L-Let go of me!" "You're a Legion slave!" Sistir glared at her, her murky, piercing pupils stepping closer. "A runaway slave!" The moment she heard those words, all color drained from Lisa's face, as if bone-chilling cold had sucked away all her strength. "I... I don't know what you're talking about!" The old woman merely sneered coldly, paying no heed to her denial. Moments later, having noticed the commotion at the gate, a Wilante officer accompanied by two soldiers emerged from the camp and came up to the old woman. The two soldiers took positions behind Lisa, blocking the view of passing pedestrians, while the officer narrowed his eyes at the old woman. "Let go. Tell me what happened." If it was a thief, they could use the opportunity to humiliate the Alliance and deflate their arrogance. To his surprise, however, the "kind and genial" Lady Sistir did not let go. Instead, she bowed slightly, showed him the mark on Lisa's wrist, and spoke deliberately, "I have discovered a runaway slave, My Lord." Her voice dripped with the eagerness of someone claiming credit. The officer's pupils contracted slightly, and his gaze toward Lisa turned cold and sinister. In the Legion, slaves were the private property of Wilante, sacred and inviolable just like the antiques hoarded by the Academy. According to Legion law, the Legion guaranteed a slave's life, eight square meters of living space, three meals a day, and healthy survival up to age fifty. In return, however, if a slave fled from their master, they forfeited all protections under the law. At the same time, any Wilante was obligated to capture and return them to their master, receiving a reward from the owner. Wilante wealthy enough to buy slaves were seldom stingy with such rewards; at the very least, they might bestow the slave upon whoever tracked them down. Her legs trembling violently, Lisa looked at the high-bridged man before her, lips quivering as she tried to explain, "I... I'm really not..." Paying no attention to her feeble explanation, the officer didn't even look at her. He simply reached out and dragged the trembling Emil forward. "Ah!!" Ignoring her cry of pain and the laundry basket tumbling to the ground, he hauled her right in front of Lisa and enunciated every syllable, "Do you know her?" Emil's face was ashen, her lips trembling so hard she couldn't utter a single word. More and more people emerged from the camp, crowding around the group—diplomatic personnel of the mission as well as accompanying servants. Right then, a raspy voice carrying an eager delight called out from the crowd. "I recognize her... My Lord, her name is Lisa! She was once a servant aboard General MacLaren's airship!" Lisa jerked her head around, only to see a servant gazing fawningly at the officer with an obsequious smile. Lisa remembered her—the woman's name was Brina, who had also worked aboard the Heart of Steel, though she had been transferred elsewhere before the airship departed for the East. The officer's eyes narrowed slightly. He stared at the pale Lisa for a moment, his gaze turning sharp. "You know what punishment awaits a runaway slave, don't you?" Lisa nodded, trembling. Seeing that she possessed not an ounce of courage to resist, a faint, imperceptible smirk touched the corner of the officer's mouth. He issued a cold command to the soldiers behind her: "Take her in." An unexpected windfall. Who would have thought that ten thousand kilometers away, they would uncover a runaway slave from Triumph City—and one who had fled from General MacLaren, no less? Judging by how well-nourished and fair she looked, she wouldn't come cheap. If returned to General MacLaren's manor, that lord would surely show his gratitude. Even more importantly, it appeared she had been living in Dawn City for quite some time. They might even pry some intelligence about this settlement out of her mouth. A Wilante soldier reached out to grab Lisa's arm, but his hand had barely extended halfway when another hand darted out from the side and clamped onto his wrist. That hand gripped the soldier's wrist like an iron vise. The soldier strained with all his might until his face flushed red, yet he couldn't move his hand forward by a single inch. The surrounding onlookers all turned their heads toward the newcomer, seeing a man clad in an exoskeleton standing beside the soldier. Ignoring the soldier's grimace of pain, the man looked past the pale Lisa and several Wilante servants, gazing directly at the officer as he said impassively: "This is the Alliance's land. Take your filthy hands back." With that, he tossed aside the wrist in his grip. The soldier stumbled backward and tumbled into the surrounding crowd. Seeing this, the other soldier reached for the sidearm at his waist, but before he could draw it, the officer raised a hand to stop him. He didn't want to blow this out of proportion. Looking at the man in the exoskeleton, the officer narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?" "Commander of the Storm Corps. You can call me Brother Spring." Commander Spring narrowed his eyes as well, staring straight at the Wilante. "And what kind of thing are you?" "Jimmy. Centurion." A flicker of wariness rose in the officer's eyes, yet he didn't back down. Staring intently at this self-proclaimed corps commander, he spoke in a warning tone: "She is our slave. We have the right to dispose of our property." Commander Spring said impassively, "She is a citizen of the Alliance, not anyone's property. We have the obligation to protect her." The officer's tone took on an edge of menace. "I advise you to think carefully. Is it worth crossing us over a slave?" Hearing this, Lisa's face drained of what little color remained. Yet contrary to her expectations, upon hearing that threat, the man in the exoskeleton showed no fear; instead, he burst out laughing. "I'll say it again: she is a citizen of the Alliance. Never mind crossing you—what if we fight you all over again?" The atmosphere instantly plummeted to freezing. The officer and Wilante soldiers all showed anger, and the tension grew razor-sharp. The officer glared coldly at Spring. "Do you really think we're afraid of you?" Brother Spring stared back with utter indifference. "Then bring it on. We don't need charity peace." More and more players gathered around. The First Corps noticed the commotion as well, dispatching a patrol squad while alerting the Guard. Seeing that the situation was about to spiral out of control, Bentnor strode quickly out of the camp and bellowed into the center of the crowd, "Stop, all of you! What do you think you're doing?!" The officer staring down Spring broke eye contact and hurried over to Myriad Commander Bentnor, reporting the situation to him. "My Lord, we discovered a runaway slave. She may be the property of General MacLaren..." Having heard the officer's report, Bentnor immediately understood what was going on. He narrowed his eyes, glancing at the pale-faced Lisa, then turned toward the fellow who called himself Spring. Truth be told, he looked down on these wastelanders, especially those living in this uncivilized land ten thousand kilometers away from Triumph City. Not to mention that compared to the grand and mighty Triumph City, this settlement named Dawn City was nothing more than a booger stuck on the map. Yet even if he despised them from the bottom of his heart, Bentnor was well aware that clashing with them right now was by no means a good idea. They possessed something the Marshal needed. Supposedly, that thing could help them eliminate the mutant slime mold broodmothers scattered across the major urban clusters of the wasteland. Bentnor walked over to the commander of the Storm Corps, staring at him. "I am Myriad Commander Bentnor of the Legion, and the representative dispatched here by Triumph City. Are you the highest-ranking officer here?" "Not me. He is," Brother Spring quipped, gesturing half-jokingly to Lao Bai standing nearby. Seeing that Spring had dragged him into this, Lao Bai dropped his low profile, stepped forward, and extended his right hand toward Bentnor. "Lao Bai, Commander of the Burning Corps. And don't listen to his nonsense; we vault dwellers all share the exact same status—no one is higher or lower than anyone else. Of course, our resolve to defend the Alliance Constitution is also identical, regardless of who happens to be standing here." Pausing, he added with meaningful nuance, "Also, give my regards to Myriad Commanders MacLaren and Soft. Tell them to drop by often whenever they're free." Hearing this fellow bring up those two embarrassments, the corner of Bentnor's mouth twitched violently, but he still shook his hand. "An honor... an absolute honor. For such a trivial matter to trouble two corps commanders. Still, I must say, there might be a misunderstanding between us." Clad in her long dress, the old woman Sistir stared at the Myriad Commander in shock, unable to believe that this lord would bow his head to these savages. Centurion Jimmy was the same, staring in disbelief at Myriad Commander Bentnor's profile as if he had seen a ghost. Of course, the most shocked were Lisa, her friend Emil, and the crowd of servants gathered around... The Wilante had always been uncompromising rulers of their word, especially when facing inferior races whose noses differed from theirs. These arrogant people actually backed down... Bentnor was seething with rage inside. Of course he didn't want to bow his head. Yet remembering the Marshal's orders, as well as that certain person watching him from inside the camp, he had no choice but to hold his nose and take a step back for now. Out of the corner of his eye, he shot a glare at the fools who had started this trouble, especially the old hag who thought she had performed some grand service and the maidservant who had first spotted the runaway slave. He would deal with these brainless fools once they were back inside the camp! Lao Bai didn't press him further, merely giving him a pointed look. "I hope it is a misunderstanding and not some form of provocation... Furthermore, our laws prohibit far more than just slavery. If you don't have the time to study the fine print, you might want to hire a lawyer for advice before making decisions." Bentnor's eyebrow twitched as he suppressed his anger and said, "A sound suggestion. I will consider it!" ... The crowd of onlookers grew larger. Not only soldiers from the First Corps, but passersby also joined in to watch the excitement. Though this spot was slightly remote, it was by no means deserted. Watching the Wilante scurry back into their camp with their tails between their legs, Foreign Minister Noreg of the Free State, standing among the onlookers, had shock and disbelief written all over his face. Unbelievable! The Wilante, who had always let their fists do the talking, had actually chickened out just like that?! Standing on the other side watching the spectacle, Wu Changnian wore an intrigued expression, rubbing his chin repeatedly with his index finger. "Interesting." Yi Chuan stole a glance at Minister Wu, wondering what was going through his superior's mind. At the same time, Battlefield Guy, standing inside the camp, let out a breath of relief and stepped away from beside the latrine near the entrance. He had noticed the commotion the moment it started and immediately used the Storm Corps emergency comms to reach I'm the Darkest, who in turn contacted Brother Spring. At any rate, the guy had made it in time and successfully contained the situation before it spiraled out of control. However, Brother Spring's offline message back to him left him completely baffled: "Fuck me, I was the one who gave out the side quest, so how the hell did I end up being the one owing a favor?" Then again, Lao Bai had repeatedly urged him earlier to go check out the Highway Town Hotel, telling him to stop asking questions and just go, leaving him wondering what trick Lao Bai had up his sleeve. Battlefield Guy's heart stirred. Might as well make it tonight. Having made up his mind, he planned to find an opportunity to slip out later and have a look...