"Art" Is the Primary Productive Force

Shelter 404, Floor B4. Stepping through the swing door into the browsing room, Sun Yuechi looked at Chu Guang sitting on the couch with a puzzled expression. "What's going on this late?" Ever since coming to Dawn City, he had thoroughly adapted to life here. On weekdays, he worked nine to five, and on his days off, he strolled all over Dawn City's streets. In his own words, Dawn City's prosperity was not one bit inferior to North Island in the Southern Sea. While its natural abundance lagged far behind the equatorial belt, the people here somehow managed to work absolute wonders with limited resources. Especially when it came to food. After tasting braised pork trotter rice once, he wanted nothing more than to devour it three times a day, frequently sighing that what he had eaten over the past thirty years was practically pig swill. In his eyes, the settlement's only flaw was that its foundation was somewhat weak. Perhaps due to its rapid expansion, a lot of supporting infrastructure had yet to catch up. As it happened, he was an expert in communication engineering. So he took a job at a local telecommunications company as a technical consultant, working on laying out transmission base station grids and planning channels. It was his small way of contributing to the reconstruction of civilization. As for Chu Guang, he had spent these past days planning matters regarding the Slime Mold Research Community, maneuvering between the Enterprise, the Academy, the Legion, and a swathe of smaller fry clamoring for aid from the heavyweights. He had zero spare time to look toward the distant Southern Sea, let alone interact much with this retired Administrator of Shelter 70. Watching Sun Yuechi sit down opposite the sofa looking bewildered, Chu Guang pulled out a holographic computer pen, set it on the table, and tapped open an azure holographic projection. It was a bust portrait Xiao Qi had drawn based on clues reported by the players. It had to be said, it bore quite a resemblance to the real person. "Do you know this man?" Sun Yuechi stared at the image for a moment, his brow furrowing, before he suddenly looked up at Chu Guang in astonishment. "Huang Guangwei?" He really did know him. Chu Guang looked at the former Administrator of Shelter 70, his expression subtly shifting. Unable to read Chu Guang's expression, Sun Yuechi asked in utter confusion, "What happened to him?" Chu Guang pondered for a moment, then spoke. "He... found our settlement in the Baiyue Strait area, told us some things about the Southern Sea, and requested a meeting with you." Sun Yuechi stared blankly at him. "Why does he want to see me...?" After examining his expression for a few seconds, Chu Guang asked point-blank, "Do you know that Shelter 70 and the Southern Islands Federation are at war?" "What?!" The moment he heard those words, Sun Yuechi froze on the spot, his mouth agape, momentarily struck dumb. That dumbfounded expression did not look feigned. Then again, it made sense. Chu Guang figured that if he suddenly heard Shelter 404 and the Alliance had started a war, he would probably be struck dumb too, entirely at a loss as to how the two could even begin fighting. Besides, with over two thousand kilometers of direct distance separating the Southern Sea from Dawn City, it was normal that news hadn't traveled this far. The *Survivor Daily* had only reported on Port French Fries and hadn't provided detailed coverage of the Southern Sea. "In short, that's the situation," Chu Guang said, lightly tapping the computer pen with his index finger to collapse the light-blue glow suspended above its tip. "However, our people suspect there may be questionable points behind this war. More clues still require further investigation." "Wait, how could a war break out?!" As if snapping out of a stupor, Sun Yuechi gasped, his face turning from flushed to pale. "I—when I left, I never granted armory access! Why would—" "That might just be why," Chu Guang cut him off, fixing his gaze on him. "According to Mr. Huang Guangwei, when they came under attack by the Southern Islands Federation, they were completely overwhelmed in a one-sided beatdown. Aside from a few submersibles scattered across the vast waters putting up isolated resistance, most of the shelter's personnel have retreated entirely into Shelter 70." "Where is he now?!" Sun Yuechi bolted upright from the sofa, staring unblinkingly at Chu Guang. Meeting his eyes, Chu Guang continued, "He will set out from Port French Fries tomorrow morning. You'll be able to see him in two days." For some reason, though he had seemed desperate to meet his compatriot just a second ago, Sun Yuechi grew visibly anxious and restless upon hearing that he would see him in two days. Roughly guessing what troubled him, Chu Guang sighed softly. "He is your fellow survivor after all. I think it's best you meet him. Besides, my people told me that when they fished him off the beach, he only had half a breath left in him." Sun Yuechi's Adam's apple bobbed slightly, yet no words came out. His eyes were awash with complicated emotions. After a long pause, he asked slowly, "Were the ones who attacked him... the Southern Islands Federation?" "I don't think so," Chu Guang said softly, noticing the flicker of hope in those eyes. "According to his description, the ones hunting him were a group of blue-skinned amphibious mutants operating in the northern sector of the Southern Sea—" "It has to be the Torch!" Sun Yuechi's eyes went wide. His fists clenched tightly against his knees, trembling with fury. "Those bastards... Only they would cooperate with mutants without the slightest scruple! This war is definitely their doing behind the scenes!" Chu Guang nodded. "I think so too. However, convincing both belligerents to agree to a ceasefire won't be easy, especially when one side holds a distinct upper hand." Sun Yuechi looked at Chu Guang pleadingly. "Please, I beg you, help us! I already handed the shelter's authority over to you—" Chu Guang's eyes sharpened, cutting him off without mercy. "If I had known things would turn out like this, I would rather you hadn't. At least half the blame for the current chaos in the Southern Sea lies in your walking away and shirking the responsibilities that belonged to you." Hearing the latter half of the sentence, Sun Yuechi wore an anguished expression, pressing his clasped hands against his nose. Chu Guang did not press him further, instead softening his tone. "Right now, we have to handle things one step at a time. The trigger for the war was the bombing of the ocean current power station. Both sides are currently pointing fingers at each other. We first need to confirm whether this was an inside job staged by the Federation or instigated by the Church of the Torch from the shadows. Do you have anyone you can trust among the Federation's high-ranking officials? We hope to launch an investigation into the real cause behind the power station's destruction." Sun Yuechi gave a bitter smile. "When I left, the situation hadn't deteriorated to this point... Though those settlements formed a federation to pressure us, that was as far as it went. Otherwise, I wouldn't have traveled so far from home." Seeing how clueless the man was, Chu Guang couldn't help pressing a hand to his forehead. He truly felt an urge to chew him out. Just how on earth had he handled his duties as an Administrator? The Federation's navy hadn't materialized out of thin air, had it? Since the survivors of the Southern Sea had already split into two factions over whether to introduce the Na fruit before he left, shouldn't he at least know who shouted the loudest on either side? Just as Chu Guang was nursing a headache, Sun Yuechi's eyes suddenly lit up as if recalling something. "Wait, there's one person... who might be able to help you." Chu Guang asked at once, "Who?" "Muda! I'll write it down for you!" With that, Sun Yuechi grabbed a pen and a notepad from the coffee table, hastily jotting down a line. He didn't just write the man's name. He also scribbled something akin to a letter of introduction, briefly explaining the situation and expressing a request to assist in investigating the destroyed ocean current power station. Chu Guang reached out, took the slip of paper, glanced at the handwriting, and asked hesitantly, "Who is this?" Meeting Chu Guang's inquiring gaze, Sun Yuechi answered earnestly, "Before I left, he was the captain of the maritime patrol in the Southern Sea. A pretty decent young man. Regarding the Church of the Torch, his stance leans toward the middle—or rather, he isn't very keen on whether to introduce that Na fruit. "I'm not sure what he's doing right now... But if he's still in the patrol squad, he should be able to help you!" ... Early morning. The harbor of Ring Island. Pot-bellied Director Stilwell let out a yawn wide enough to fit a hippo. After fumbling around his waistband for a good while, he finally found his keys and unlocked the harbor master's office with a brisk double click. He had just sat down behind his desk when the blast of a steam whistle outside interrupted his unfinished daydream. He looked out the window blankly. When he saw the freighter flying the white bear flag pulling up its anchor chain, Director Stilwell froze for a second before his mouth dropped open in shock, springing from his chair in sheer jubilation. Unbelievable! That piece of sticky nougat clinging to the harbor had actually weighed anchor?! Without a word, he snatched his hat from the desk, dashed through the door he had shut less than half a minute ago, and hurried down the exterior staircase toward the docks. Quite a crowd stood by the piers, mostly dockworkers, along with a few passing pedestrians. Watching the *Rou Rou* prepare to depart, many young men wore expressions of deep regret. What a shame. Before they could even learn the name of their dream girl, they had to bid farewell to this ship. Not far off, a short-haired girl stood by the railing, waving vigorously toward the docks. "Woohoo! Goodbye, friends of Ring Island! Thank you for taking us in all this time! We gave you lots of trouble, and our Rou Rou will remember this favor!" Resting against the railing, Rou Rou whipped his head around to glare at her. *"Giao!* Why am I the one remembering it?!" Tail playfully winked. "Ehehe, don't sweat the details!" "What do you mean, 'ehehe'?!" Though he never wanted to lay eyes on them again, Stilwell still put on a friendly show, waving his hat and calling out hypocritically, "Have a safe voyage! Come back often!" *Just make sure you never come back!* Failing completely to catch the lack of warmth in his voice, Tail broke free of the bear paw and yelled back cheerfully at the top of her lungs, "Woohoo! Definitely, definitely!" Her exuberant voice faded into the distance along with the prolonged blare of the freighter's horn. Watching the ship steam away, Director Stilwell happily settled his hat back on his head. Thank heavens! They had finally sent those jinxes packing! Not long after the *Rou Rou* cleared the harbor, Mogavi, standing on the deck of the *Northwest Wind*, turned to Captain Song Haining beside him with a smile. "Captain, shall we set off as well?" Song Haining said nothing, merely shouting toward the stern, "Weigh anchor!" Moored at the pier, the *Northwest Wind* sounded its horn as well. Three days had passed since the freighter arrived at this port. Over those three days, the Moon Clan girls from the *Rou Rou* had not only finished processing all one thousand-plus pelts for him, but had also scrubbed the *Northwest Wind* inside and out until the deck gleamed as though waxed! Not a trace of rotting meat odor remained on the ship now. In its place lingered the faint, sweet fragrance of young maidens. Perhaps it was psychological! Confronted with the spotless *Northwest Wind*, Captain Song Haining could no longer find any fault. Thanks to this, the friction between Mogavi and the old captain had eased, no longer as tense as it had been three days prior. The old captain no longer threatened to throw him and his cargo overboard either, only reiterating that raw meat had better never be dumped unwrapped on the deck again. By now, the cargo aboard the *Northwest Wind* had shifted from iron ore and coal to several stacks of precious furs, over a dozen crates of pearls, shells, corals, and other aquatic goods, along with various manufactured goods that the Camel Hump Kingdom happened to lack. Once the ship docked at Silver Moon Bay, this voyage would be considered a complete success. Yet before this journey had even ended, Mogavi was already planning the next one. That prime location named Port French Fries sat squarely at the eastern outlet of the Baiyue Strait. Sooner or later, other passing merchant vessels would discover it. Once a steady shipping route formed and competitors entered the fray, striking it rich like this would be far harder! Gazing west over the open water like Mogavi, Captain Song Haining suddenly spoke from the railing. "It would be nice if that harbor could be built a bit sooner." Mogavi turned to Captain Song Haining in surprise, delight written all over his face. "My friend, you've finally changed your mind about them?" "I never had a bad impression of them, just the usual wariness upon a first encounter. What I truly detest are people who break their word." Song Haining cast him a pointed glance. "Alright, my friend, I had it all cleaned up for you. Let's let bygones be bygones, shall we?" Mogavi chuckled sheepishly, rubbing his nose in embarrassment. Tearing his gaze away, Song Haining looked back toward the Baiyue Strait. "To be fair, they do take their work seriously. If they're still there in the future, maybe I'll drop by and have them wash my ship again next time." *How about opening a ship-washing company?* The thought suddenly crossed his mind, and the more he mulled it over, the more promising it seemed. At his age, sailing the seas was already taking a physical toll. He even kept a chair in the wheelhouse so he could sit down and rest from time to time while steering. Having spent so many years at sea, he knew plenty of captains—young lads and old-timers alike—and got along well with all of them. If he really opened a ship-washing business, finding clients wouldn't be an issue at all... ... And so, bathed in the morning sunlight, the *Rou Rou* and the *Northwest Wind*, guided past the minefields by a patrol speed boat, sailed one after the other toward the eastern entrance of the Baiyue Strait. Meanwhile, south of Port French Fries, a team of Strength-type beasts clad in exoskeletons were hauling stripped tropical teak logs nearly ten meters long toward the shoreline. With the lowest deformation coefficient among various types of timber, teak possessed superior bending resistance, extraordinary wear resistance, and, having grown in rainforests, excellent resistance to humid environments. Without large supplies of steel and cement available, it made a phenomenal substitute. Its only flaw—if it could even be called one—was its weight. Among these raw logs, even the lightest weighed nearly a ton. Even carrying them with miner exoskeletons, the physical load was considerable. Of course, that applied only to ordinary people. To Strength-type workhorses, this kind of weight was child's play. The sand, on the other hand, couldn't handle their tread. A single step was often enough for the soft sand to swallow them up to their calves. After a few back-and-forth trips, the rows of footprints left on the beach looked as though an ox had plowed the ground. At the far end of those tracks stood neatly arranged rows of wooden piles driven into the sand. These pilings served as the foundation of the pier. Lay wooden beams lengthwise, cover them with planks crosswise, and it could serve as a rudimentary pier. Although the shareholders of Port French Fries had resolved to hire an Ideal City construction team to build a proper harbor, a project worth tens of millions of Cr was obviously not something that could be finalized overnight. From tendering to bidding, blueprint designs, and finally breaking ground, there was a lengthy process to follow. In the meantime, Port French Fries couldn't just sit by and watch cargo ships slip past their fingers. Thus, everyone had agreed to first build a few wooden piers extending into the deep water along the southern beach to make do for now. Later, when the dedicated concrete freight port was completed, this wooden pier wouldn't go to waste; it could transition straight into a marina for yachts and a passenger dock for tourists embarking and disembarking. Even though the port was still nowhere in sight, the little players of Port French Fries had already planned out their future tourism industry. After nearly three days of labor, the rough outline of this deep-water pier had already been shaped by the construction crew. Loading and unloading cargo remained tricky, but with a bit of care, foot traffic was basically feasible. Without engineering vessels or specialized harbor construction machinery, this building speed was already utterly absurd. Then again, an all-Awakened construction team was probably one of a kind on the wasteland. Later, they planned to haul large boulders from the nearby hills and pile them around the pier's foundation to reinforce the base. When that was done, handling both passengers and cargo wouldn't be an issue at all. Clad in an exoskeleton, Spare the Blade hoisted an iron pile-driving hammer on his shoulder, wiped the sea spray from his face with his forearm, and hollered to his hard-working brothers, "Put your backs into it, boys! Let's try to get this pier finished today!" "Ooooh!" The players swinging hammers on the beach hollered back in ragged unison, though they lacked the vigor they had displayed when driving the very first pile three days ago. It was only natural. A player's sense of novelty always followed a downward parabola. Even though the construction team paid well, doing the same repetitive grunt work inevitably wore down their enthusiasm. Normally, lost morale could be replenished through other means. That included material rewards as well as spiritual satisfaction. For instance, working in Dawn City earned not only pay commensurate with labor, but also rounds of onlookers shouting, "Awesome!" Here, however, everyone around was one of their own. After a while, it grew a bit dull. "Brother Blade! When's our port gonna spawn some NPCs?" "Don't tell me none will spawn?" "The trash dev never said building houses guaranteed people would come, did they?" "Damn it!" Listening to the gang's grumbling, Spare the Blade coughed dryly, dangling a carrot in front of them. "Don't panic, brothers! Maybe once the pier is built, NPCs will spawn!" As luck would have it, right as the words left his mouth, movement appeared on the distant sea. A sharp-eyed Strength-type player looked up, peered toward the southeast, and suddenly hollered as if discovering a new continent. "Brother Blade! A ship's coming from the east... wait, make that two!" Before Blade could react to the shout, the players around him instantly perked up. Dropping their tools, they turned to look in the direction the brother was pointing. "Holy crap!" "For real?" Spare the Blade looked up as well, and sure enough, two ship silhouettes were growing clearer by the second. Catching sight of the flag, he froze for an instant before his eyes flashed with excitement, and he shouted at once, "It's Tail and the girls!" Hearing that, the workhorses who had been dragging their feet a second ago suddenly had their spirits revitalized. Not because of Tail. Rather, because of the over one thousand gorgeous maidens in maid outfits aboard her ship! Why had they been busting their humps so hard? Wasn't it so Port French Fries could liven up sooner?! "Holy hell, NPCs are finally spawning!" "Put some muscle into it, boys! Our pier's almost there!" "For art!" "Awoo!" "Damn, you guys are too shameless!" This time, without Spare the Blade even needing to bark orders, the Strength-type beasts got hyped as if injected with adrenaline. With everyone busting their absolute guts, the pier that had looked like a chaotic construction site moments ago surged toward the shore at a speed visible to the naked eye. Not only was Spare the Blade dumbfounded, but Sisi, standing on the ship's deck with a pair of binoculars, was equally flabbergasted. Watching the guys howling like a pack of wolves, her lips parted unconsciously as she muttered in a daze, "What... are they so excited about?" As she spoke, she instinctively glanced at Tail beside her, her intuition telling her this creature definitely knew something. Clearly aware of why Sisi was looking at her, Tail shifted her eyes away with a subtle expression and tried to whistle to play dumb, only to produce faint squeaks that refused to carry a tune. "Ah haha... haha..." Looking at the beach in the distance, Sesame Paste chuckled awkwardly. Her hearing was far beyond ordinary. Facing the incoming sea breeze, she could actually hear what the gang of companions was cheering. Still... It was probably best to pretend she hadn't heard a thing.