Since You're Here Anyway, Stay and Work

*Survivor Daily* [Yesterday, survivor factions including the Enterprise, the Academy, and the Legion completed their linkup at the Alliance's Southern Weifu Military Base. Commanders from all parties initiated consultations regarding specific operational plans and their respective assignments. In an interview, Allied Manager Chu Guang stated that the Slime Mold Research Community would go all out at all costs in confronting the enemies of civilization, ensuring those beasts who committed heinous atrocities pay the price they deserve!] At a hotel north of Dawn City. Flipping through the newspaper in his hands over and over, Duke Garava raised his eyebrows in displeasure. The headline made no mention whatsoever of the Xilan Empire, leaving him feeling somewhat slighted and deprived of due respect. "A pack of sewer rats. All they know is playing petty little tricks over trivial matters." After spitting out a sarcastic grumble, Duke Garava tossed the newspaper aside. Right then, a server walked up carrying a tray and placed a plate of curry omurice before him. An enticing aroma rose with the curling steam. Garava took a deep breath and felt his appetite instantly piqued. He awkwardly picked up the spoon beside the plate. There certainly was a vast variety of food in Dawn City. If one took the trouble to search, one could go 365 days a year without eating the same dish twice. This was the dish that tasted closest to the delicacies of his homeland. Though it lacked a bit of textural richness, the savory, mouthwatering flavor paired with fluffy baked eggs and distinct, tender grains of rice was an absolute marvel! Garava grudgingly admitted that besides beans and flatbread, other ingredients could indeed complement the spices of Bolo Province. Watching the duke vent his frustration into his lunch, Niyang, who was standing nearby, recognized the disappointment in his brow at a glance. He leaned in respectfully and whispered, "My Lord, perhaps there is news of us in other newspapers. Would you like me to buy them for you?" Busy wolfing down his food, Garava was tempted and almost told him to go buy them, but he suddenly remembered the doctor's orders. He shook his head in lingering dread. "Forget it... Better not read them." Seeing that the duke had suddenly wised up, Niyang felt a slight twinge of disappointment and inwardly sighed that it was a pity. Compared to *Survivor Daily*, today's headline in the *Goblin Observer* was the real blockbuster... *** *Goblin Observer* [Shocking! Thirty thousand troops departed for the front line, yet a full ten thousand went missing! Valiant Xilan Empire General Babita, Myriarch, was consumed with fury, shouting before the battle lines, 'Where are my men?!' and harshly berating the train conductor!] [...] *** "Where's my steel?!" Port French Fries. Standing on the dock of the light industrial zone, Fang Chang looked at the delivery receipt in his hand, then at the cargo ships bunched together in the harbor. He was completely dumbfounded. Two weeks ago, while still at Golden Gallon Port, he had ordered ten thousand tons of surplus steel through a Wilante broker at an ultra-low price—fifty percent below the market rate. According to the broker, this was crude, unshaped steel, and its quality was guaranteed, produced strictly to Wilante casting standards. Whether rolled into T-beams for construction or blended with other elements to forge high-grade alloys, it was wonderfully versatile. Golden Gallon Port had steel mills, but their capacity was almost entirely tied up in local infrastructure projects and Port French Fries's construction, leaving orders backed up for months. Having signed off on this unexpected windfall, Fang Chang had immediately arranged for it to be directed toward Anle Island. He intended to have the submarine factory and technicians there help bring to life the wild "submersible aircraft carrier" concept he and his buddies had brainstormed on the forums. According to the contract, the goods were to be delivered at Port French Fries. Today, the other party was supposed to deliver five thousand tons of steel billets, and Fang Chang was to pay forty percent of the purchase price. Worried that cheap goods meant shoddy wares, he had specifically made the trip from Golden Gallon Port to inspect the shipment in person. Who would have guessed that instead of steel billets, over ten thousand soldiers had shown up?! If these people hadn't maintained relative restraint, he would have suspected they had failed to learn their lesson and were trying to pull off another cheap, recycled trick. The man standing at the bow of the ship looked equally awkward. He was now certain he had boarded the wrong vessel. However, expecting him to admit his mistake was out of the question. To ease the awkward atmosphere, he cleared his throat and introduced himself. "I am Isel, of the Equine Clan, a baron... and Myriarch of the Third Myriad of the Expeditionary Force." Fang Chang glared daggers at him. "I don't give a damn what kind of horse or ox you are! I just want to know why you're here! And where is my steel?!" Isel froze, staring at him in utter bewilderment. His expression made it clear he had no clue about any transaction. "What steel?" "Steel! The steel I bought from those big-nosed bastards!" Fang Chang took a deep breath, rapidly regaining his composure as he glared at him. "Where's your captain? Bring him out!" Debating whose fault it was now was pointless; the problem needed to be resolved immediately. Soon, the captain was brought out. To be precise, he was dragged out by soldiers holding him under both arms. Looking at the murderous glares of Fang Chang and General Isel, the Rodent-race captain looked on the verge of tears from panic. "My Lords... I didn't know anything either! The Wilante told me not to ask questions, not to look at anything, and just to sail along the route once the ships were loaded. Then the very next day, these men swarmed aboard, urging me to hurry up and cast off. I couldn't reach the handler who arranged my schedule, so... so I had no choice but to sail!" Looking thoroughly embarrassed, Isel kicked the fellow in the backside. "Why didn't you tell me we were heading for Port French Fries?" With a weeping face, the captain whimpered, "With the way you guys stormed in, how could I dare ask a single word?!" Fang Chang stared dumbly at the two on deck. So his steel hadn't been shipped to Silver Moon Bay or Golden Gallon Port—it hadn't been loaded onto the ships at all?! "...Didn't you notice these were cargo ships?" Isel looked at him blankly. "Is there a difference?" Fang Chang was left speechless for a moment. Then he remembered that several gunboats of the Xilan Empire's navy had been converted from cargo ships, and the fleet they used in their previous raid on Port French Fries had consisted of civilian vessels as well. His expression turned into a wry, helpless grimace. *Unbelievable...* He had never imagined such a novel way to drag down the team. There were so many ridiculous flaws in the situation that he didn't even know where to begin roasting them. He guessed the Wilante merchant who sold him the goods probably had no idea either—instead of delivering the steel, the cargo fleet he had arranged had delivered an entire expeditionary force... Seeing that the harbor's "person-in-charge" was struck dumb, Isel coughed and continued, "Excuse me, how far is it from here to Jinchuan Province?" Fang Chang pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a massive headache coming on. "Not far. Ten Peaks Mountain is slightly east of southern Baiyue Province. From here, it's not even a thousand kilometers." Isel beamed upon hearing that. "That's wonderful—" Before he could finish, Fang Chang couldn't help but snap, "Wonderful my ass! Are you planning to walk there on two legs? The war will be over before you even get close!" Of course, the far more likely outcome was dying in the forest along the way. Even though Port French Fries had successfully established a foothold on this continent, the players' radius of operation rarely exceeded fifty kilometers. Without a stable supply line, venturing far into the wilderness was impossible unless one had no intention of ever returning. After pondering for a moment, Fang Chang turned to the captain. "Wait for me offshore for a bit. I need to consult with the others on how to handle this... Steer a little further out and don't block the docks." "Wait, please wait!" Seeing Fang Chang turn to leave the docks, Isel hurriedly called out from the deck, then spoke with great embarrassment, "We're running low on rations. Could you... lend us some?" Fang Chang's eyebrow twitched. "...Wait right here." *** *Wasteland Online* Forum. Fang Chang brought the events at Port French Fries to the forum, finally solving the mystery of the complete disappearance of the Xilan Empire Expeditionary Force's Third Myriad. Brother Edge: "Holy crap... Getting lost to that extent is ridiculous." WC Really Has Mosquitoes: "Hahahahaha! I'm dying here! Today's headline is secured!" Fang Chang: "Alright... Forget about the headline for now. I'll press that Wilante merchant on the steel again. If worst comes to worst, I'll go to West Sail Port in person. The question is, what do we do with these guys? Throw out some ideas." Kuang Feng: "Managing to leave even you speechless is quite an achievement. (Rolling Eyes)" In Debt God: "Just let them stay on the southern front. Since they're here anyway, why not? Besides, looking at their clone-standard gear, I feel like they'd just be making up the numbers if they went to the northern front anyway. (Smirking)" Construction Site Boy and Bricks: "+1. The northern front is currently a clash of titans. There are twenty Cloud Dragonfly ornithopters parked there alone, and they can barely keep up with hauling ammunition. Now they even need to build an extra airstrip. Thank goodness the 500 Deathclaws we raised can hold their own, or we'd be relegated to bit players too." Commander Spring: "Aren't you guys planning an amphibious landing from Death Coast? Have Lao Bai and Chicken Brother whip them into shape. (Rolling Eyes)" Lao Bai: "Their foundation is pretty abysmal. I'm afraid we'd have to start teaching them from how to hold a bowl and eat. (Laugh-crying)" Midnight Chicken Slayer: "I oppose letting them come ashore. They're imperial soldiers with prior records. No one can guarantee their conduct." Sisi: "+1. Many Moon Clan people have settled in our port. They were previously liberated slaves from Golden Gallon Port. The empire never recognized their status as freemen. If we allow these soldiers ashore, friction will be unavoidable." Aoao Sesame Paste: "Mmm... If they renounce their status as imperial soldiers, wouldn't that work? Port French Fries needs a lot of laborers, right?" Sisi: "That's not realistic... And even if we need labor, there's no reason to employ the henchmen of slaveholders. There's plenty of higher-quality labor in Golden Gallon Port eager to come over." Ye Shi: "Looks like the Alliance needs to establish a customs and immigration bureau. We've never had this many people arrive all at once before. (Smirking)" Elaina: "+1. Without new blood, games die, but adding new people too fast isn't always good either. Every time a multiplayer game has a free-to-play week, the server environment deteriorates visibly, like it turned into a completely different game. (Smirking)" Tail: "Whoa! That's true, but sending them to the front line as cannon fodder is too pitiful. How about we just set up another settlement on the south bank? Let them clear the land while training! _(:з」∠)_" Fang Chang: "Cost-wise, it's not very economical. Just maintaining the port on the north bank consumes a massive amount of our ammunition. As for training... even if we trained them, I doubt they'd be of much use looking at how they are." Armies of feudal lords only ever mustered a shred of combat morale when their home turf was getting plundered, and even then, it was strictly limited to homeland defense. This was entirely different from cultural ideals, bloodline lineages, and faith traditions, though specific religious traditions and cultural doctrines could diminish this debuff. For example, the Restoration Army of the Honey Badger Kingdom was a prime instance—united from top to bottom, they had even established a government-in-exile after their homeland was overrun, and their princess was willing to marry a "heretic" for the sake of restoration. Yet in the Lion Kingdom, it was another story: the serfs in occupied territories pinned their hopes on the royal army, while the royal army pinned theirs on the Alliance. As for Bolo Province, objectively speaking, their two-century-old dogma of a thousand clans and a thousand gods had compartmentalized internal conflicts and consolidated royal authority, but it had simultaneously created even greater problems. Fang Chang harbored zero hope of turning them into a competent fighting force. That was simply not something that could be reshaped in a few months. Tail: "Then let's just have them clear land without training!" Midnight Chicken Slayer: "What about the ammunition expenses required to maintain the settlement?" Sisi: "I heard Daybreak City is undergoing another industrial upgrade recently. The newly finished ammunition production line in the B7 processing center has been assembled there, set to replace the original line... How about we purchase it and ship it to Golden Gallon Port? Manufacturing bullets there and shipping them across the Baiyue Strait should save some costs." Lao Bai: "That's actually a good idea... But what about after the war ends and the expeditionary force withdraws? Ten thousand vacant positions would be quite a headache." Sisi: "Bringing in some population from Golden Gallon Port shouldn't be an issue. Once the infrastructure work there is complete, a lot of surplus labor will be freed up. We can use this new port as a buffer zone for absorbing population into Port French Fries." The south bank of the Baiyue Strait likewise offered vast tracts of undeveloped land ripe for reclamation. Moreover, compared to the rugged terrain of the north bank, the land on the south bank was flatter, ideal for laying out massive plantations and farmland to produce tropical cash crops. Having the Jungle Corps clear out the mutants along the shore and then letting these astray expeditionary soldiers develop the land was a solid option. Sending them to the battlefield would just drag everyone down anyway. Letting them do target practice and sham drills every few days just to go through the motions would be more than enough. Fang Chang: "Then here's the question: what should we name the new settlement?" Elaina: "Since we already have Port French Fries, how about Port Coca-Cola? (Smirking)" Ye Shi: "If you guys keep this up, the Alliance's map is going to turn into a restaurant menu. (Smirking)" Makabazi: "Hahahahaha fuck!" *** At this moment, General Isel had no idea that his fate and the fate of the cannon fodder under his command had already been neatly mapped out in another world. Yet thanks to this, by an odd stroke of fortune, they had stepped onto a vastly different path of destiny. *** The northern front. The third day after the allied forces' arrival. On Black Cloud Peak, the second peak of Ten Peaks Mountain, a bloody battle had just begun. Seeing how smoothly the Alliance's Death Corps had taken Mount Fu, the Wilante, who had traveled from afar, were eager to show off their prowess to impress their allies. During the operational conference, Myriarch Lium, commander of the Legion, had practically snatched the assignment of taking Black Cloud Peak away from the commanders of the Academy and the Enterprise. Thanks to the help of his old acquaintance, Babita, commander of the imperial expeditionary force, basked in the reflected glory and dispatched a thousand-man unit to serve as a feint—in other words, as reserves. After all, with the winding, narrow mountain paths of Ten Peaks Mountain, the frontline width could fit at most one or two battalions at a time. As expected, the Legion sent in the Glory Army first, reserving their main force for the primary battlefield beyond Ten Peaks Mountain. Just as Babita had predicted, early in the morning, the Legion's Glory Army assembled at the foot of Mount Fu and was led up the mountain by a squad of Wilante officers. At precisely ten in the morning, the Bison walkers raised their 200 mm cannons and, like spitting phlegm, poured out a barrage of shells that could have filled five entire train carriages onto the peak of Black Cloud Peak! Dozens upon dozens of fiery explosions erupted across that towering summit and its flanks, incinerating the forests along the mountainside and blowing apart the clouds clinging to the crags. The moment the bombardment ceased, a thousand-man unit of the Glory Army assembled atop Mount Fu let out deafening roars, raised their Ripper Rifles, and charged forward. They pushed ahead along the narrow mountain trail, engaging the mutants in fierce firefights amidst the rugged crags. Sitting on the bridge, Lium ate a Popsicle as he gazed down at the battlefield echoing with battle cries across the mountains, a faint smile playing across his lips. Suddenly, he turned his head slightly and asked his adjutant, "By the way, how long did it take the Alliance to take Mount Fu?" Standing beside him, the adjutant replied respectfully, "Before dusk, as I recall." Lium nodded, glanced at the mechanical watch on his left wrist, and leaned comfortably back into his chair, resting his right leg over his left knee. "Looks like we'll wrap up the battle before noon. I plan to dine down there later... I hear the Alliance's cooks are quite good. You ate there yesterday; do you have any dish recommendations from their mess hall?" The adjutant paused, hesitating for a moment before answering, "The braised pork trotter rice I had yesterday was quite good." The taste had indeed been exceptional. In Triumph City, pork trotters were usually charred over an open flame or smoked inside wooden crates. It was his first time tasting trotters softer than bread, almost jelly-like in texture. Lium smiled and said, "We'll go try it together in a bit." Lium wasn't the only one who didn't take the mutants seriously; Babita, who had come to the front line to command in person, felt the same way. Unlike the Wilante, who had seen plenty of mutants, Babita's confidence stemmed from having never seen these green-skinned creatures before. Synthesizing the hearsay and rumors gathered along the journey, he viewed them as nothing more than underdeveloped savages. Only the destitute beggars wandering the wasteland would struggle against them for three hundred rounds. Bolo Province was not a wasteland by any stretch. If he took the field, he could crush those weaklings in minutes. Besides, his men probably wouldn't even need to fight today; the Wilante had already stepped up. Just as Babita was assuming this engagement was nothing more than a perfunctory show on the front line before heading back, things took an unexpected turn. The clone soldiers who charged up the mountain were actually locked in a stalemate with those underdeveloped savages! "...Damn it." Babita peered through his binoculars for a long time. Seeing that the clones were completely unable to push forward, he couldn't help muttering a curse under his breath. "What on earth are those Wilante dawdling for..." He had never fought a mountain war, but he knew how to read battle lines. Even if his eyes couldn't catch everything, basic skills like gauging the distance between the front and rear lines by the sound of gunfire were second nature to him. In the blink of an eye, two whole centuries had been wiped out. Wounded Wilante officers were carried down the mountain by medics, while green-skinned creatures continued to swarm out relentlessly, fighting with mounting ferocity. Watching the gruesome battle unfold, Babita felt sweat bead on his palms. If his old friends didn't go all out soon, they were going to be pushed all the way down the mountain! Babita wasn't the only one stunned; the players observing atop Mount Fu were equally dumbfounded. That earlier artillery barrage had been dazzlingly intense. They had even opened a betting pool on how quickly the big noses would plant their flag on the summit. Yet the result was jaw-dropping. After enduring a round of artillery bombardment, those mutants acted as if nothing had happened, beating the clone cannon fodder who had pushed halfway up the mountain black and blue. In Debt God swallowed hard, commenting in sheer disbelief, "Holy crap... They scrubbed the entire mountaintop with artillery and it still turned out like this?" Did the mutants toggle on cheats too? Holding binoculars, Construction Site Boy and Bricks furrowed his brow slightly, speaking in a low voice, "There's something off about those guys." "Yeah..." Brother Edge nodded, his expression grave. "They really aren't like what we ran into when we first got here." Back then, a single cannon shot had wiped out half the green-skins, and the remaining half was obliterated in a single charge. Pushing to the summit had met some resistance, but only a little. Seeing his allies' positions teetering on the verge of collapse, Babita could sit still no longer. He urgently prodded the chiliarch beside him to launch an assault. "Take your men and charge up there! Move!" "Yes, Sir!" The chiliarch dared not delay, immediately rallying his subordinates and charging forward with over a thousand men. The mountain appeared right before their eyes, seemingly nothing out of the ordinary. Yet once he drew close to the front line, he discovered the reality was far less simple than General Babita imagined. The towering mountain stood like an insurmountable precipice. There was nothing that could genuinely be called a path—only a narrow, winding sheep track leading toward the summit. Bypassing the mountain was entirely out of the question. Sheer cliffs plunged on either flank, and beyond them lay nameless peaks where conditions were only worse. Their soldiers had to scramble upward while clutching rocks along the steep slopes, returning fire while watching out for falling corpses of their comrades tumbling down. Conversely, their opponents held the high ground, firing down upon them with clear lines of sight. Diminutive goblins would suddenly leap out from behind cover, brandishing rocks, daggers, or even satchel charges to deliver nasty surprises. Over the past two weeks, the Death Corps had already grown accustomed to these surprises and took them in stride. However, for these newcomers from Bolo Province, it was their very first time encountering such vicious, venomous tactics. The Wilante's Glory Army had at least advanced halfway up the mountain before their assault ground to a halt; Babita's men had barely caught up to their allies' rear before their morale stood on the brink of collapse. No matter how loudly General Babita cursed and shouted from behind, he could not halt the Rodent-race soldiers whose courage had been shattered by the hulking green-skins and goblins. The battle raged from morning until dusk, dyeing the entire sky a blood-soaked crimson. On the bridge of the airship *Loyalty*. Lium stared dumbfounded at the mountain summit, which had finally fallen silent, his jaw hanging open in speechless shock. The Popsicle stick he had been holding had long since slipped from his fingers and clattered to the deck, unnoticed by anyone. He was not the only one paralyzed in disbelief; the entire bridge had fallen into dead silence. A hungry growl of a stomach broke the bridge's silence at the worst possible moment. Staring at the mountaintop that remained untaken even as dusk settled, Lium's face slowly flushed the dark crimson of pig liver. Suddenly, he smashed his fist furiously onto the armrest of his command chair. A bunch of useless, humiliating trash! If he had known, he would have sent General Modlin in from the start! "Ready the bow main gun! Lock onto that mountaintop!" "Blow the hell out of it!!"