At the outpost's north gate.
Standing on a wooden stool with a hemp rope looped around his neck, a burly man begged for mercy through a mess of snot and tears.
His name was Badger.
Yet at this moment, he was as pitiful as a worm.
"Please, don't kill me! I told you everything you wanted to know! You said you'd spare me!"
The nearby players couldn't quite bear the sight and began murmuring among themselves.
"Isn't this a bit too brutal?"
"Yeah... The guy surrendered. Maybe he could've become one of our companions."
"Kind of a waste."
However, Chu Guang's expression didn't change in the slightest at the man's pleading.
The outpost had no cells to hold prisoners, and locking them inside the shelter was even less realistic. Furthermore, it was safe to assume that no slave traders would pass through here all winter. Keeping these three captives would only waste food and introduce security risks.
As for intel?
What they managed to pry out of him barely differed from what he had already deduced.
Chu Guang had never promised that coming clean would spare their lives.
Every single one of these marauders, given the atrocities they had committed, deserved hanging as the most merciful punishment possible.
"Repent in hell."
Seeing that there was no hope of survival, the burly man's face instantly twisted, and he unleashed a barrage of curses.
"You scum! Liar! Even in hell, I won't let you off! Just you wait—the boss will avenge me! He'll string you up from a streetlamp and make you watch as your people are slaughtered and ra—"
Before he could spit out anything viler, Chu Guang, uninterested in listening to nonsense, kicked the stool out from under the man's feet.
With a sharp snap, the man named Badger ended his wicked life upon the righteous gallows of the Shelter 404 outpost.
The builders of the gallows, Who'll Smell My Athlete's Foot and Ya'er I Wanna Go to the Restroom, stood watching from a distance, their eyes glazed over.
Neither of them had ever expected that the gallows they had built on a whim for atmosphere would actually be put to use one day.
Looking at the dangling corpse, both turned slightly pale, though not overly so.
After all, this was a game.
It was just that the hanged man's expression was a bit too grotesque.
Just like a real dead body.
"This game always makes the weirdest details look so realistic."
"What a sin, what a sin. Amitabha."
Standing not far away, Tengteng felt a pang of emotion.
"War, huh."
She was a casual player who didn't particularly enjoy the thrills of combat. Naturally, that also had to do with her Intelligence-type stats and short legs that couldn't run fast.
The thought always depressed her.
Was this fair?
Not fair at all!
"Don't worry! Big sis will protect you!"
Standing beside her, Yaya gave a goofy grin. She originally intended to rest her hand on Tengteng's shoulder, but accidentally dropped it onto the top of her head instead.
Black lines crossed Tengteng's face, and her fists clenched.
"Touch me again and I'll punch you!"
Yaya hastily pulled her hand back, frantically explaining, "Huh? No, I didn't mean to! I was trying to—"
"All right, all right, you're getting annoying."
The players nearby chattered, discussing when the next wave of attacks would arrive and how much stronger it would be compared to this one.
Once he confirmed the man on the gallows was thoroughly dead, Chu Guang turned toward the two nearest players and tossed five copper coins into each of their hands.
"Carry these three corpses to the morgue. Strip them clean and pile them with the other marauders.
"Once the generator is assembled, feed them into the active substance extractor to be processed."
The two players snapped out of their daze and nodded immediately.
"Yes, Administrator!"
***
Assembling the generator didn't take long.
Among the players were quite a few handy experts. Even without understanding a single word of the manual, relying purely on their grasp of generator mechanics and a few schematics, they managed to piece all the components together.
The entire power generation setup consisted of two parts: a wood gasifier and a gas-driven thermal generator.
The gasifier was simple in design, essentially an airtight cylinder with a lid on top.
As wood was fed in from above, it was further dried as it slowly descended, ultimately cracked by internal heat and partially combusted under limited oxygen.
This process generated immense heat, creating a layer of hot charcoal at the bottom of the cylinder that reacted with pyrolysis steam and other combustible gases, eventually producing a flammable gas mixture rich in hydrogen, methane, and carbon monoxide.
This wasn't particularly advanced technology; the German army during World War II had utilized similar wood gasification equipment to power certain tanks when fuel was scarce.
Generally speaking, three to four kilograms of wood was equivalent to one liter of gasoline. The exact consumption depended on the wood's species, density, and moisture level, making it impossible to generalize.
However, consumption hardly mattered. The outpost currently had no shortage of firewood; all it took was assigning someone to clear out waste and stuff logs inside.
Through this equipment, the outpost could stably draw up to ten kilowatts of electricity. Even at full load, it consumed less than ten kilograms of wood per hour, making it exceptionally cost-effective.
When the generator successfully whirred to life, the surrounding players erupted into cheers.
Their outpost finally had power!
Many tasks that had previously been impossible could now be carried out.
"I'm going to dig up some electric wires!"
"Can two-hundred-year-old wires still be used?"
"If the insulation kept them protected, they should work. Even if they don't, it doesn't matter—worst case, we melt them down and remake them. Let me see if I can whip up a transformer and a voltage regulator. When the time comes, we can jump straight to an electric furnace for steelmaking!"
"God-tier bro!"
Listening to the players' chatter, Chu Guang felt quite pleased himself.
The active substance extractor, coated in a thick layer of dust, finally began operating, refining the corpses fed into the furnace into active substance.
Ten bodies yielded around four units, finally making up for the deficit caused by a certain little player.
"Is the battle over? Did we win?" Xia Yan, waiting by the elevator, asked hurriedly upon seeing Chu Guang approach.
Chu Guang answered casually, "If we hadn't won, it wouldn't be me standing here."
Xia Yan pressed on, "Were those guys from the Bloodhand Clan?"
Chu Guang glanced at her. "You know them?"
"You don't need to know them well to hear of them. They're pretty much the most famous bunch in the northern suburbs of Qingquan City."
With a helpless shrug, Xia Yan warned him, "You'd better be careful. Not many showed up this time, but they aren't as weak as they seem on the surface. A merchant once wanted revenge or something and hired a twenty-man mercenary squad from Boulder City. Care to guess what happened?"
"I don't like guessing. Just tell me."
"Fine... In the end, only one made it back alive, and he was missing an arm," Xia Yan said, taking a deep breath. "That mercenary squad had decent equipment and solid combat skills. Two of them were even retired professional soldiers from Boulder City's militia. But fighting marauders is entirely different from fighting mutants, especially in urban ruins.
"They planted tin-can landmines and decoy bombs along the roads, lured Gnawers from subway entrances and trapped them inside roadside shops, and even tamed mutant hyenas... According to the survivor, that fight was a total nightmare. They were up against a pack of Gnawers that could shoot, take cover, provide fire support, and pull off ambushes."
Whether it was a DIY pipe rifle or the most advanced assault rifle, a hit to a vital organ was all it took. Even if it missed a vital spot, it was nothing another bullet couldn't fix.
Boulder City mercenaries weren't regular troops; they couldn't afford top-tier protective gear. Most relied on wire frames reinforced with steel plates to cover vital areas, while only a wealthy few could afford exoskeletons and full ballistic armor.
"Maybe those mercenaries just underestimated their enemy," Chu Guang said casually.
"Perhaps. People from Boulder City look down on country folk to some degree."
"Like you?"
Xia Yan's expression turned awkward, and she scrambled to explain, "Uh, not including me, of course."
Chu Guang chuckled, not taking it to heart.
Though he had never been to Boulder City, just seeing the longing looks from the survivors of Bet Street whenever they mentioned it made that sense of superiority easy to understand.
After all, it was the only true "city" in Qingquan City and the last remaining "land of order" in the area.
Those living there, even if penniless, were still considered superior compared to outsiders.
"Speaking of which, why do I get the feeling you aren't very scared?"
"What's there to be afraid of? You tore a Crawler apart with your bare hands—think you'd lose to them? Besides, you have so many people here." Xia Yan gave Chu Guang a strange look, seemingly puzzled by his question. "Why are you so tense anyway? From the sound of the gunfire, there were at most seven or eight of them, and it was out in the open."
"..."
Hmm...
That made surprisingly good sense.
For a moment, Chu Guang didn't even know how to rebut her.
***
Late at night.
An abandoned tire factory in the northern outskirts of Qingquan City.
Looking down at the man prostrated beneath the steps, Bear, reclining in his chair, spoke in a sluggish voice.
"How are things on Badger's end? Have the spoils been brought back?"
According to tribal tradition, whoever took down the spoils had first dibs on enjoying them.
Once brought back, they were shared among everyone without distinction.
Normally, after taking down a survivor settlement, a raiding party would hang around for a bit to indulge in some fun—throwing a party, playing cat-and-mouse, and looting along the way.
As the clan chief, Bear was considerate of his subordinates.
Still, with night already fallen, they should have returned by now.
"...There is no news yet." The man prostrated beneath the steps pressed his forehead firmly against the ground, not daring to lift it a single millimeter.
"No news yet?"
Centipede-like brows knitted together, and a flicker of displeasure rose on Bear's face. He said impatiently, "I remember they set out in the morning."
"Yes."
"Too slow."
Bear stared down at the man, his face darkening. "Send someone over. If they run into them on the road, tell them to hurry. If your man gets there and they haven't set out yet, come back and inform me."
"Yes!"
Watching Cha exit the tent, Bear stroked the stubble on his chin, an unexplainable irritability creeping into his chest.
A settlement of thirty survivors—what could possibly take them so long to deal with?
Could something have gone wrong?
That possibility was slim, however.
Shaking his head, Bear decided not to dwell on it and rose from his chair.
Even if the other side was a tough nut to crack, with Badger's vigilance, he could certainly have fled back.
Having no news for this long could only mean one thing: they had lost track of time while having fun, or looting had taken a bit of effort.
Bear stopped worrying, his mood relaxing considerably.
Especially when he recalled the nearly broken "toy" lying limp in his room, a chilling smile crept across his coarse, ugly face.
This winter shouldn't be too boring.
Chapter 70