Along the coast of Haiya Province.
Unlike the pleasant, bustling Silver Moon Bay, the blood-soaked sand here gave off a stench of rot under the sunlight even more pungent than dead fish. There was no fertile land flowing with milk and honey—only heart-stopping dread and death.
Near the Howling Rocks bordering the Death Coast, the damp, chilled lee of the crags was alive with shrill, chattering noise.
A band of blue-skinned humanoids covered in scales and gills was chanting an obscure, guttural eulogy, led by a priest in prayer for the hunt about to begin today.
Two muscular brutes strode over to a cage half-submerged in seawater. Skillfully hauling it open, they dragged out a dying man.
Soaked day after day in the brine, the skin across his neck had ulcerated into festering sores, and pulsing veins looked ready to burst through his cracked flesh.
The two monsters hoisted him up onto the beach, threw him into the midst of the praying creatures, and stepped aside.
Listening to the jabbering squawks echoing around him, the man tried to push himself up from the ground. But his body had no strength left at all; his limbs felt as though they no longer belonged to him.
He had gone three days without food and was severely dehydrated. His drifting mind could slip away to the next world at any moment, and he couldn't even summon the breath to plead for mercy.
Seeing his moribund state, the scaled beasts let out excited shrieks and began to dance.
This was proof that their ancestors, having melted into the tide, had accepted their tribute. The surging waves had stripped away the prey's vitality, and the sacrificial offering's weakness was the ultimate testament!
Now, only the final step remained—
"...Defiled blood shall drench the sands, consoling the souls of our forebears."
Chanting the sacrificial incantation, the mud-smeared priest stepped before him and extended an arm that was gaunt yet corded with strength, hoisting him up off the ground by the scruff.
Before the man could react, the priest slit his throat and chest open with a jagged shard of flint. Blood erupted, spraying across the blackened beach.
Twisted silhouettes thronged forward like squealing imps in hell.
They pounced upon the corpse, smearing the blood-soaked mud and sand across their brows and chests as a token of their ancestors' blessing.
Any survivor from Yunjian Province would recognize these blue-skinned creatures performing their bloody rite.
They were the aquatic mutants that fishermen and sailors feared above all else!
Prowling the coastlines, these beasts were even more difficult to deal with than their green-skinned cousins. Savage, brutal, and cunning, they would mob and rip apart any lone wastelander, yet wheel around and flee without hesitation the instant they encountered hard resistance.
Compared to terrestrial mutants, they carried far less humanity and far more bestial instinct.
For that very reason, aquatic mutants rarely formed massive tribes of ten thousand or more, preferring to live scattered in loose villages.
Thanks to their wider range and broader diet, their craving for mammalian flesh was not as intense as that of their green-skinned brethren. Their attacks on humans were mostly driven by primal malice, sacrificial rites, and the urge to breed.
Still, mistaking them for being more merciful or docile than the green-skins would be a fatal mistake. Precisely because humans were not their primary food source, their talent for "wasting provisions" was something that would make even bloodthirsty green-skins frown.
In truth, before the Church of the Torch set foot in this land, aquatic mutants were practically nonexistent here.
Militiamen from the Iron Tower Organization used to patrol the coastline, destroying every nest they found—working even more zealously than the mercenary contractors who fought for coin in Yunjian Province. As a result, aquatic mutants could never gain a foothold.
Yet everything had changed once the Church of the Torch arrived.
Those zealots used the promise of "Heaven" to manipulate ordinary humans enslaved by the Na fruit, while for mutants immune to its control, they offered whatever the beasts craved as bait to forge alliances.
In just a decade, the coastline of Haiya Province had become an absolute breeding ground for aquatic mutants.
The waters around the Howling Rocks in particular had fallen almost entirely under the dominion of these scaled monsters. Even freighters sailing from the East Coast dared not approach without good reason.
Having concluded the ritual, the priest stood quietly on the shore and slipped the bloodstained flint into a grimy cloth pouch.
Suddenly, its pupils contracted violently as it peered toward a craggy stretch of beach.
A shimmering phantom bathed in golden light stood there, resembling a deity striding forth from the rolling surf.
The surrounding mutants seemed oblivious to the golden phantom, acting as though they could not see him at all.
In fact, they truly couldn't.
Only the chosen, implanted with chips, were permitted to behold that unspeakable entity.
The aged priest lowered its body tremblingly, dropping to one knee.
Gazing down at the hideous creature, Arzu spoke slowly.
"Do something for me."
The mutant priest answered with utter deference, "Command me, Lord."
Arzu continued, "Head west along the coast, then turn south. You will come upon a strait, and on its northern shore sits a human settlement."
"Slaughter them all. Leave not one alive!"
A human settlement!
At those words, a spark of bloodthirsty excitement flashed in the priest's eyes.
It bowed reverently, pressing its wrinkled, scaled forehead against the blood-stained sand.
"It shall be done!"
When it lifted its head again, the pale golden glow was gone, leaving behind only the crashing surf and churning foam across the boulder-strewn shore.
Rising to its feet, the priest turned toward its kin scrambling across the sand for their ancestors' blessing and let out a shrill, piercing wail.
The cry sounded like a beat on a war drum. Not only did the mutants groveling on the beach straighten up, but scaled faces began peeking out from behind the Howling Rocks one after another.
Blue scales swarmed toward the shore, numbering over a thousand in mere moments.
Their weaponry was a chaotic assortment: harpoons, fishing nets, spiked clubs, and shields fashioned from turtle carapaces. Beside these crude arms, several tribal elites carried spearguns, cast-iron swivel guns, tubular mine launchers, and even assault rifles.
Most of these firearms had been scavenged from humans, while others had been cobbled together from shipwrecks.
Watching more and more of its kin gather, the priest loosed another savage roar.
"The enemy is to the south!"
"Follow the coast! Find their settlement!"
"March!"
Murky pupils flared with the thirst for blood, answering the roar with even more fanatical, ravenous howls.
"Awoooo!"
Watching the frenzied warriors, a twisted, feverish grin spread across the priest's face. Its withered hands trembled with excitement.
At last—
The true sacrifice was about to begin!
***
Port French Fries.
At the edge of the golden beach, emerald palm fronds swayed gently in the sea breeze, painting a serene and peaceful picture.
Beneath the dappled shade, inside a makeshift shed fashioned from dried grass and coconut husks, several matte-black server chassis sat in stark contrast to the surrounding scenery.
The cooling fans whirred, and a pale-blue holographic beam intertwined over a disc-shaped projection unit to cast a flickering three-dimensional schematic.
Displayed on the holographic screen was the blueprint of the Bie-type engineering armor designed by Shelter 100.
It was currently the Alliance's most advanced multi-purpose land construction equipment. Even Enterprise, having completed the magnificent undertaking that was Ideal City, had marveled at its exquisite design, praising it as a "miracle born in the sewers."
Though that moniker carried an unspoken air of superiority, there was no doubt that even Ideal City's engineers had been mildly stunned by the machine.
Evidently, that shock was just as real for the engineer from Coral City.
Staring at the holographic schematic floating before him, the middle-aged man wearing plain glasses wore an astonished expression before turning to Fang Chang beside him.
"An incredible design... Your shelter came up with this?"
His name was Zhou Zhehui, a survivor from Coral City and one of the designers of the Electric Ray automated underwater welding drone boat.
Ever since joining the Alliance, he had utilized specialized equipment and editing software provided by the Scientific Expedition to copy the Electric Ray's schematics for Meng Liang and the others. Following Meng Liang's recommendation, he had subsequently joined the Alliance's Scientific Expedition.
The Electric Ray resembled its namesake: a flat, fan-shaped drone capable of gliding along the seabed hundreds of meters down, using suction pads on its underbelly to hold building materials and replace divers in perilous underwater welding tasks.
Working from his blueprints, the automated workshop on level B7 of Shelter 404 had produced ten prototypes. The airship Niuma had delivered them to Port French Fries, where they were immediately deployed to lay the underwater freshwater pipeline connecting Port French Fries to Ring Island.
Feedback from the construction crew showed that the Electric Rays were indeed remarkably effective—operating over three times faster than the strength-type players.
The Administrator had promptly approved the production of another hundred Electric Rays, bumping them to the front of the queue. Soon, more drone boats would be flown into Port French Fries to assist with harbor and pipeline construction.
Currently, Chief Zhou's daily routine consisted of training technicians dispatched by the Alliance in operating the Electric Rays, including programming tasks and routes via automated terminal routines.
Since that work didn't take up much time, he was free for most of the day, wandering aimlessly around the settlement.
It was during one of those strolls that he spotted the Bie-type engineering armor deployed with the shoreline construction crews, sparking his curiosity about the uniquely shaped behemoth.
Once they learned of his interest, the Alliance's Scientific Expedition hadn't hesitated to hand him a copy of the blueprints and manuals, letting him tinker with them at will.
When Fang Chang heard about this from the expedition team, he immediately recalled Zhou's expertise in underwater engineering and sought him out to see if the Bie-type armor could be adapted into an amphibious engineering suit with similar controls.
And so, Zhou Zhehui had pulled out the well-thumbed schematics, studying them anew with professional rigor.
Yet no matter how many times he looked at it, he couldn't help but marvel.
What kind of harsh, unforgiving environment had given rise to an engineering suit so remarkably efficient, blending bulk with such agile precision?
Hearing the engineer's question, Fang Chang gave a light cough.
"No, it was designed by the residents of Shelter 100."
The creativity of Shelter 404's residents mostly lay in wacky, unhinged ideas. Engineering equipment bordering on science fiction was far beyond players whose technical knowledge was bounded by reality.
Zhou's expression turned even more stunned upon hearing the explanation.
"They joined you as well? Shelter 100?"
"Sort of... Do you know them?"
Zhou shook his head, looking sheepish. "Not really. The only shelter we ever had contact with was Shelter 117, and even then, it was mostly the blue coats from Shelter 70 dealing with them. We've only heard of them; we know very little."
Pausing, he asked curiously, "What kind of people are they? Like the residents of Shelter 70?"
Fang Chang wore a subtle expression. "Quite different, actually... A lot happened to them. In the end, the survivors turned themselves into androids."
Zhou Zhehui froze, taking quite a while before offering an ambiguous remark. "That... that is truly a shame."
Fang Chang shrugged. "Every family has its cross to bear."
While most NPCs in Wasteland Online held reservations about whether AI could truly equal humanity, most players held a far more open-minded view.
Fang Chang was no exception, perhaps even more relaxed than most.
It was a game, after all.
To people in the real world, wasn't an NPC coded as an AI identical to an NPC coded as a human? Both were artificial constructs.
Besides, the AI technology in this game was realistic enough to blur all distinctions.
Without brooding over profound philosophical questions, he had simply grown accustomed to treating every one-life NPC as a real person.
Zhou Zhehui sighed softly. "I'd love the chance to speak with them someday, whether about academic research or our past... Though I wonder how much humanity they've retained after turning into androids. It feels odd to contemplate the future of humanity with an AI."
"I think they aren't all that different from humans. You'd probably get along fine," Fang Chang replied, before clearing his throat to steer the conversation back. "So... about the modifications."
Snapping out of his reverie, Zhou smiled apologetically and focused on the technical aspects.
"I've looked it over, and it shouldn't be much of a problem. Their airtight sealing was exceptionally well designed to begin with. We only need to redesign the gas-exchange system... Give me a week—or maybe three days—and I'll have a retrofit proposal ready for you."
Delighted by how fast it would be, Fang Chang broke into a broad smile. "I'll leave it in your capable hands, then! By the way, what do you think we should name this variant? I'll need it for the budget sheet."
The NPC clearly wasn't great at coming up with names, scratching the back of his head in thought.
Just then, his gaze drifted toward the beach, where several players were hauling an enormous mutated sea crab, nearly two people tall, onto the shore.
Inspiration struck him instantly—not just for the name, but for a host of design details.
He turned to Fang Chang, eyes gleaming.
"Since it's an amphibious engineering suit..."
"Let's call it the Crab-type!"
***
Ever since the players at Port French Fries struck a deal with the Federation patrol, both sides had coexisted peacefully for several days.
Though nothing earth-shaking had occurred during this time, Port French Fries had transformed considerably.
With the addition of the Coral City engineers, the settlement grew before everyone's eyes.
Led by an engineer named Li Shihao, the construction team threw themselves into expanding the harbor facilities.
Meanwhile, aided by the Electric Ray drone boats, the underwater freshwater pipeline stretching from Port French Fries toward Ring Island had pushed forward another ten nautical miles.
During this period, the airship Niuma made another run back to Dawn City.
It returned not only with fifty newly minted Electric Ray drones, but also with a batch of specialized port equipment manufactured by factories in Boulder City.
No matter how skeptical Governor Channing of Ring Island had been about this "little fishing village" on the northern shore of the Baiyue Strait, he had to admit that this pipeline could genuinely replace their desalination facilities, addressing the islanders' dire shortage of domestic and industrial water.
Above all, the offer presented by the Baiyue Strait Development Co., Ltd. was simply too good to refuse.
Each cubic meter of tap water cost merely 0.8 silver coins, or 800 silver coins per thousand cubic meters, with all construction and maintenance handled entirely by the company.
Eight hundred silver coins was the price of a mere four LD-47 rifles. The annual consumption of Ring Island's residents was only about four hundred cubic meters—costing less than two assault rifles—which was cheaper than water had been before the ocean current power station was destroyed!
Driving down the price of freshwater meant that Ring Island's residents would no longer have to endure bathing once a week. It also meant that various industries shut down by high water costs could resume, and food production that previously relied on subsidies would turn a profit.
Running the math with ease, Channing signed a contract with the Baiyue Strait Development Co., Ltd. without hesitation, locking it in for ten years.
For the Baiyue company, the profit margin appeared slim, but in the long run, it was an exceptionally lucrative deal.
Freshwater in Baiyue Province was virtually limitless, piping it across the strait required no exotic technology, and pipeline maintenance costs were negligible.
In other words, once the pipe was laid, they could practically sit back and print money.
More importantly, with that tap firmly in their grasp, Port French Fries would be tied inextricably to the islands of the Southern Sea!
They would prove to the local survivors that they came to solve problems, not to bring ruin and disaster.
Beyond the economic ventures, the Alliance's military base and logistics depot on the bluffs northwest of Port French Fries were completed one after another.
Currently serving as the garrison for the Burning Corps and Jungle Corps, it stood ready to host other units deployed here in the future.
Additionally, the players had erected crude watchtowers and beachhead redoubts mounted with machine guns and grenade launchers on the high ground to the south, guarding against any threats that might emerge along the shoreline.
The investigation into the ocean current power station ruins had served as a wake-up call.
The Church of the Torch may have bred aquatic alien species controlled by mental interference devices, capable of underwater movement.
The danger they faced did not come solely from the rainforest before them, but could also strike from the sea behind them.
Port French Fries now hummed like a bustling construction site.
From beneath the waves to the sandy shore, and straight into the adjoining rainforest, the clanging of metal and tools rang out from morning to night.
As for the submarine Dolphin moored near the harbor and the Coral City refugees on land, the Federation patrolmen kept their word, deliberately turning a blind eye.
In return for their willful ignorance, the Baiyue Strait Development Co., Ltd. paid them an extra "bonus" every month.
Lieutenant Muda had initially refused this suspected bribe, declining it with righteous indignation.
He had agreed to help the Dolphin's crew evade capture not for money, but out of conscience and justice.
Yet Fang Chang had ultimately persuaded him, slipping the mutually reassuring sum into the straightforward patrol commander's hands.
"...Just treat it as compensation for patrolling on our behalf. We're busy with construction and don't have time to keep an eye on our surroundings. If it's not too much trouble, you can extend your patrol range another hundred nautical miles to the west, and give us a shout if pirates or marauders get close."
Pausing, Fang Chang added, "Besides, even if you don't want the money, you have to think about your men. They're taking risks by following your lead."
Looking at the stack of bills in his hands, Muda fell silent for a long time before smiling wryly. "Does this count as drawing two salaries?"
Fang Chang patted his shoulder with a chuckle. "Think of it as moonlighting. Doesn't that make you feel better?"
Muda gave a deep, searching look to the man drawing him ever deeper into the mire. Saying nothing more, he tucked the stack of cash into his coat.
Just as he was about to return to his speedboat, something crossed his mind, and he spoke up.
"Right, there's something I should mention."
Fang Chang asked, "What is it?"
Seeming to hesitate over whether he ought to share it, Muda paused briefly before finally speaking.
"The day after tomorrow, there's a maritime patrol exercise in the waters off North Island. Patrol teams from every island are required to participate."
Fang Chang raised an eyebrow with interest. "And?"
Muda's expression grew troubled. "Here's the strange part: the Federation Ministry of Finance hasn't made any arrangements for duty rotations in any patrol sector for that day, nor did they mention whether the Federation Navy would temporarily relieve the patrol teams..."
Fang Chang smiled. "Meaning that even smugglers won't get caught that day?"
Muda gave him a look. "Don't do that."
"Just joking. We're law-abiding citizens who only engage in legitimate business," Fang Chang replied, tucking away his smile and looking at him earnestly. "Thanks. That intel is very important to us."
Someone was intentionally pulling the Federation patrol away from these waters!
It seemed something was slated to happen that day that wasn't meant for outside eyes.
Especially not the eyes of the Southern Archipelago Federation's own people.
Pulling his gaze away from Fang Chang, Muda looked out toward the churning sea in the distance, his tone laden with complicated thoughts.
"I'm just wondering if the Federation Navy plans to carry out surprise inspections on certain patrol sectors, but doing it like this seems too conspicuous. Regardless of whether we're under suspicion, you'd better move that submarine far away for the next couple of days."
Fang Chang gave a solemn nod. "Understood. I'll arrange it right away."
Chapter 690