*Survivor Daily*
[Yesterday evening, the 1st Millia of the Legion's 31st Myriad and the "Purge" Squad launched an assault on Black Cloud Peak, the second peak of Ten Peaks Mountain, successfully securing the entire summit by 22:10...]
Facts proved that the troops directly under the Eastern Legion truly had what it took.
After suffering 112 casualties, that elite group of Wilante equipped with automatic firepower finally planted the Legion's banner atop the mountain before the clock struck midnight.
The surviving green-skinned brutes and goblins either hid in man-made tunnels and bunkers or retreated to the third peak of Ten Peaks Mountain—Broken Blade Mountain.
Compared to Black Cloud Peak, the natural barrier named Broken Blade Mountain was a notch lower in elevation, but nature's uncanny craftsmanship was even more pronounced.
The entire mountain resembled a steep, towering longsword sheared in two at the waist, leaving behind only the lower half. Both flanks were sheer precipices where barely any trees could take root, to say nothing of people.
A slanted road spiraled toward the summit from south to north, and this path was the most treacherous stretch along the eighty-li road of white bones. Forget heavy vehicles being unable to pass; even Deathclaws capable of scaling rock faces would find climbing it difficult.
Even so, compared to the other nearby untrodden natural barriers, building bridges and roads here was still comparatively easier.
According to the operational deployment of the Allied Command, this peak was assigned to the infantry of Enterprise's 100th Mountain Division for the assault, with the Alliance and the Legion providing rear support.
The offensive would be launched in three days!
Regardless of the operational plan three days out, what Brother Edge cared more about was the Legion's performance in this battle.
Based on their prior analyses on the forums, the Legion's true trump card had never been individual combat prowess, nor even any particular unit. Those guys' actual winning formula was their massive logistics network and sustained combat capability.
Their entire social framework was built for war. Every institution existed solely to produce war machines, train officers and soldiers, or reward military aristocrats who distinguished themselves on the battlefield.
Therefore, debating the combat effectiveness of an individual unit was largely pointless. Enterprise had to bluff with division numbers, whereas these guys genuinely had a hundred divisions.
And those were standing armies ready to deploy at any moment without needing mobilization!
If not for the Great Desert standing between them, and the Eastern Provinces being far too distant from Triumph City, forcing them to rely largely on vassal states for logistics, the Expeditionary Force's performance wouldn't have been so thoroughly underwhelming—and they certainly wouldn't have lacked support from a home front teeming with war hawks.
Yet to Edge's surprise, setting aside the dismal performance of the Glory Army, that 31st Myriad had fought surprisingly well last night.
Even more surprising to him was that special unit called the "Purge Squad."
A hundred soldiers in total, each nearly three meters tall, hulking like iron towers, and fully clad in pitch-black ballistic plates and exoskeletons.
Their organizational role was roughly equivalent to a special operations company attached to a division, but their battlefield performance resembled "humanoid infantry fighting vehicles" coordinating with the infantry's advance.
These towering brutes wielded shotguns and heavy machine guns as their primary weapons. When firing the latter in particular, they could advance while firing continuously without setting up tripods.
In addition, they were equipped with a wide assortment of heavy grenades, including incendiary and fragmentation types, with melee weapons like battleaxes or warhammers hanging from their waists as close-quarters "firepower reinforcement."
Their fighting style was exceptionally fierce, easily on par with the brothers of the Jungle Corps. They usually appeared at the most perilous sections of the front line, eliminating their foes in the most straightforward and brutal fashion. Even the most savage mutants couldn't withstand their sudden onslaught.
If not for an occasional glimpse of their faces clearly showing human features, Brother Edge couldn't help but wonder if those things were actually mutants strapped into exoskeletons...
"You mean those guys? Of course they're Wilante... just the kind where the injections failed."
In the military base's mess hall.
While eating, Brother Edge brought this up with Su Ming. The latter was working through a bowl of fried rice, speaking in a conversational tone.
Brother Edge asked in confusion, "What do you mean?"
Su Ming said, "Forcing non-coding genes to express via Awakening Gene Agents doesn't guarantee a 100 percent success rate. Depending on the technological route, there's always a chance of varying side effects... death in severe cases, or disability and genetic disorders in milder ones. You should've heard about that, right?"
Brother Edge nodded. "Yeah."
Brother Fang Chang's partner seemed to be a victim of an Awakening agent.
It was a product of Boulder Military-Industrial, remembered as "Dragon's Blood."
Because it was free, many people in Boulder City who wanted to become mercenaries without the strength had taken it. Boulder Military-Industrial had even introduced a loan specifically for those crippled by Dragon's Blood.
Later, after the Inner City collapsed, the new administration banned Dragon's Blood.
Shelter 404 had similar products, but with vastly higher safety standards than Dragon's Blood.
Although the probability of awakening remained a mystery and required multiple inoculations, the worst mishap so far was simply failing to awaken; it didn't cause physical disabilities.
Of course, if "difficulty conceiving offspring" counted as a disability, that was another matter—most Awakened suffered from that issue.
Brother Edge figured this might be a biological self-preservation mechanism—namely, preventing haphazardly expressed non-coding traits from being passed down.
Naturally, this was just his guess based on game lore.
In reality, Awakened didn't exist at all, nor were there so many mutant creatures.
"...The Wilante in the Purge Squad are in a similar situation. You know about their background, right? Those guys were 'born warriors' synthesized through genetic engineering by the Wilante Laboratory under the Technical Department during the War Reconstruction Committee era."
Glancing at the Alpha Mobile Task Force soldiers dining not far away, Su Ming toyed with his spoon and continued in a quiet, leisurely voice:
"If an ordinary person's non-coding DNA is a long, naturally accumulated heap of spaghetti code, theirs was artificially designed... One theory goes that the designers in the Technical Department wrote unfinished code from the 'Gestalt Organism' into them, then commented it out using some method to round out the twenty-three pairs of chromosomes."
"The Committee's original intention was to use these disposable tools against the slime mold while collecting experimental data to complete that Singularity technology left unfinished from the Era of Prosperity. Once the Wasteland Era ended, they planned to eliminate these unstable beings through sterilization or other more civilized methods to prevent genetic contamination..."
"This is information I dug up on Endpoint Cloud earlier. Maybe it'll answer part of your confusion. As for whether it's true, you'll have to judge for yourself... Anyone can chime in on Endpoint Cloud, and more often than not, it's just people blowing hot air."
Relying on his VM's translator to parse this explanation laced with technical jargon, Brother Edge tried to wrap his head around it, and his eyes suddenly went wide.
Holy shit!
Meaning...
Mutants were living inside the Wilante's DNA?!
No, that might not be entirely accurate—saying "parts of a mutant were living inside them" was far more fitting.
Mutants were unfinished products of the "Gestalt Organism," and so were the Wilante.
Except the former had unleashed all their unstable genes, evolving into an entirely new species, while the latter had merely spliced DNA fragments homologous to mutant genetics into human genes!
And because of this, when Wilante awakened, some became stronger humans, while others became humans exhibiting mutant traits.
After all, awakening was essentially the specific expression of non-coding genes within an individual. No one could predict which part would be expressed.
"Then why are the latter considered failures?" Brother Edge pressed, still confused.
Su Ming offered a helpless shrug. "You'd have to ask Wilante experts about that... Like I said, I only heard it on Endpoint Cloud."
Brother Edge: "..."
While the two were eating, the Alpha Mobile Task Force at the neighboring table had already wiped their plates clean. The four of them stepped in unison toward the serving counter.
"Braised pork with potatoes over rice, three more servings. Extra rice," the squad leader in front said tersely, pulling out a meal card.
The server holding the ladle froze at the request and recounted the people standing before the counter. No matter how he counted, there were four.
Still, he didn't pry.
These guys with gas masks clipped to their helmets and goggles hiding their eyes didn't look normal in the slightest anyway.
"Three servings for you..." Placing the prepared trays on the counter, he couldn't resist offering a reminder. "If the three of you are eating together, you could actually order a few stir-fried dishes and rice separately."
"No need. Thanks."
The squad leader nodded, balanced the three trays in his hands, and turned back toward their earlier table.
Just when the server thought that was all, the squad member lined up behind the leader stepped forward, pulling out a meal card with the exact same motion.
"Braised pork with potatoes, three more servings. Extra rice."
Server: "..."
Just as he expected, the two behind were the same. Each ordered three servings of the exact same dish, down to how they took the trays and said "thanks," as if stamped from the very same mold.
It was as though these guys had coordinated beforehand.
Every single one ordered the same dish, cleaning out an entire giant vat of braised pork with potatoes while the other dozen dishes hadn't even been half touched.
Faced with this, the server could only radio the kitchen, telling them to whip up another vat on overtime and send it over right away.
What he didn't know was that across an invisible communication channel, unseen radio waves were communicating at the speed of light:
"Braised pork with potatoes is good. Recommended."
"Indeed good."
"Good."
"Really good."
"Satisfied."
"..."
Just as the soldiers of the Alpha Mobile Task Force finished polishing off their food and returned their trays, a swarm of Enterprise soldiers who had just wrapped up training flooded into the mess hall.
These recruits had spent three months in boot camp, and their training hadn't ceased even after arriving here. Every single one was so famished their eyes glowed green.
One young fellow squeezed up to the counter, glanced at the menu on the wall, and slapped his meal card onto the scanner with swift dexterity.
"Boss, an order of braised pork with potatoes! Plus an order of braised eggplant and two scoops of rice!"
Getting a headache just hearing the name of that dish, the server waved him off impatiently. "Braised pork with potatoes is out. Those guys in the masks devoured it all. If you want some, wait half an hour."
The crowd gasped in astonishment upon hearing this.
"Holy crap?!"
"Devoured it all?!"
They hadn't originally craved it that much, but hearing that it had been completely wiped out made their mouths water, and a curious crowd queued up to wait.
The line grew longer and longer.
Later, it wasn't just Enterprise; soldiers from settlements like the Free State, Garbage City, and others joined in the craze as well.
In a single day, the entire Weifu Military Base actually sold nearly a hundred thousand servings of braised pork with potatoes!
Especially those chow-hounds from the Academy—starting at three servings per person, the thousand-man task force ate with the gusto of a ten-thousand-man legion!
Although the Allied mess hall wasn't operated for profit, and the margin on a meal was modest—only one to two Cr—it added up to a substantial sum.
That day, all was quiet on the northern front.
A handful of Legion soldiers mopped up the remaining mutants and goblins in the tunnels of Black Cloud Peak, while behind those Wilante, the Alliance's braised pork and potato over rice quietly took the entire military base by storm...
Not only were the players dumbfounded, but even Chu Guang, far away in Dawn City, was caught off guard.
Just on the back of a single dish, these soldiers from all corners of the wasteland had actually devoured every last potato in the military base...
When Chu Guang received the frontline report back in Dawn City, he froze for a few seconds.
"Good grief... A military base can actually turn a profit?!"
In all honesty, Chu Guang had never thought about making money off the Slime Mold Research Community.
Today's Alliance was no longer the impoverished little village of its early days.
As the Alliance's manager, his duty was no longer merely finding any way possible to feed the people who supported him, but leading those who were well-fed to rebuild a greater era and unite more people who were still starving.
Because of that, he had offered many originally profitable services—including train freight capacity—to the Community allies practically at cost.
And for logistical supplies manufactured on contract in the industrial zones of Daybreak City and Boulder City, he had even slashed fifty percent off the cost price! It was essentially a fiscal subsidy from the Alliance, encouraging the Community factions to manufacture logistical supplies in the Alliance's industrial zones!
While doing so would widen the fiscal deficit in the short term, looking further ahead, the benefits far outweighed a minor deficit.
"Foreign trade orders" brought not only capital, technology, and talent, but also tighter cooperative bonds.
Even after the war concluded, these orders wouldn't vanish entirely; some would inevitably persist through inertia due to the close partnerships forged during wartime.
Along with the capital, technology, and talent that accompanied those orders.
This was an open gambit.
Every faction shared the long-term interest of resolving the slime mold threat, alongside the short-term urgency of eliminating the "calamity" that was the Church of the Torch.
Even the Academy, notoriously stingy with technology, was willing to shoulder a degree of risk regarding tech leaks to shift production of non-critical, high-demand front-line goods to Boulder City, closer to the front, or even contract it out to Boulder Military-Industrial.
Examples included capacitors for Gauss rifles and polymer ballistic plates for exoskeletons.
The associated technologies were sufficient to drive upgrades across over a dozen Alliance industrial chains.
In comparison, the meager fiscal subsidies the Alliance paid out were completely negligible.
It was no exaggeration to say Chu Guang had prepared himself to operate at a loss over the long haul to wage this war.
Yet what he hadn't anticipated was that less than three weeks into the fighting, they were actually turning a profit thanks to the mess hall!
Perched on the pen holder, Xiao Qi gazed at him with sparkling eyes and raised a thumb in sheer admiration.
"As expected of Master! Everyone else loses money in war, but Master not only didn't lose any, you actually turned a profit!"
Chu Guang coughed dryly. "...Flattering me won't get you any perks."
"How could you say that?"
Cupping her chin in both hands, Xiao Qi struck a bashful pose, her bright eyes peering at him through the gaps between her fingers.
"Making Master happy is the absolute, absolute, absolute most wonderful thing for Xiao Qi... Hehe."
Eek?!
Chu Guang gave the little thing a surprised look.
Why did it feel like she was getting shrewder by the day?
Just who taught her these sweet-talking lines?
Was that phrase even supposed to be used like that?
"I feel like Master is thinking something rude..."
Staring suspiciously at Chu Guang, Xiao Qi crossed her arms, her pouting lips indicating displeasure with his shocked expression.
With a slight cough, Chu Guang steered the derailed conversation back on track.
"No, I was just thinking... I was negligent before. I almost forgot our old trade."
The Alliance had developed so rapidly that he had overlooked the paychecks sitting in those soldiers' pockets.
Including the quest rewards he distributed to the players.
After earning money, those guys wouldn't spend it back in Dawn City anyway; eighty percent would end up traded on the official website's Silver Exchange.
They might as well spend it on the front lines.
What the Alliance lacked now was no longer production capacity, but outlets to unleash that capacity and generate positive returns. Perhaps relying on these guys' spending power, they could literally spend a new settlement into existence.
Such a thing wasn't impossible.
According to reports from the front, some merchants from Mafu Town had even driven ox carts to the railway terminal—the Weifu Military Base station where non-military personnel weren't permitted to travel by train—and set up stalls there selling locally produced cow milk, mare's milk, and other dairy products.
Once survivors from other parts of Jinchuan Province gathered there over time, a new settlement might just form on that spot.
"Old trade?" Xiao Qi tilted her head, unsure which one Chu Guang meant, since he had so many tricks up his sleeve.
"Heavy industry barbecue, light industry beer... Of course, conditions are better now than before, so we can offer more than just food."
Chu Guang smiled faintly, flicking his index finger through the air to swipe open the window for assigning quests and server events on the holographic screen.
His imagination was limited, but he believed his players possessed limitless creativity.
"...Let's dispatch some life-skill players to the front line."
...
While the Allied troops on the northern front were busy chowing down, the mutants on Ten Peaks Mountain were also feasting heartily.
Only they weren't dining on rice, but on livestock, or humans treated like livestock.
The Church of the Torch provided them with abundant food and breeding tools.
Ever since that fire in Haiya Province was lit, they had been feasting every day, living in endless revelry.
Though they had already lost two peaks, these green-skinned creatures weren't in the least bit of a hurry.
This grueling battle had only just begun; the coalition of human-things had merely stepped into their home turf.
Besides the things that dug holes, they had things that flew. Once those human-things reached midway up the mountain, their true nightmare would begin.
They would tear those guys apart bit by bit, using their blood and entrails to sacrifice to fallen brethren and please their "Lord of All Beasts"!
Broken Blade Mountain.
Across the entire mountain, green-skinned mutants and goblins were bustling about in preparation for battle.
Except for one guy.
Inside a cavernous cave, a green-skinned brute over a dozen meters tall sat like an artificial mountain amidst a pile of humanoid skeletons, snoozing heavily.
Its sickly green skin resembled moss kept from the sun for years, pitted and bumpy like a toad. Its arms were like excavator buckets, and the snores issuing from its maw rumbled like thunder. Drool hanging from the corners of its mouth dripped intermittently onto the bones beneath it, hissing with corrosion.
His name was Oulong, chieftain of the Rock Axe Clan, the hulking brute with the greatest appetite and might in the entire tribe, as well as a rare natural mutant among mutants.
As an anomaly of the Gestalt Organism project, he possessed traits of a super mutant. Even having his head blasted to pieces wouldn't kill him; instead, losing his mind would drive him into a berserk frenzy. His regenerative power exceeded even certain slime mold fruiting bodies, and he was even tankier than a "Meat Mountain."
Although he looked like someone severely disabled by morbid obesity while asleep, he was not the least bit sluggish when awake, capable of swatting away a tank with a single paw.
Right then, a sound came from the entrance. The ear drooping over his massive skull lifted like a pig's ear. The sleeping Oulong raised half an eyelid, grunting dully amid his heavy snores.
"What is it?"
This was one of his unique abilities: waking only half his brain while the other half remained asleep.
Standing at the mouth of the cave, a middle-aged man draped in white robes spoke in a voice devoid of inflection.
"I bring you good news."
Oulong grunted expressionlessly. "Speak."
The man said unhurriedly, "Soon, you will have a feast."
Oulong let out a muffled laugh, sounding like the low growl of a drake. "Then I truly look forward to it."
With that, he closed that half of an eye again, seemingly slipping back into deep slumber.
The man nodded and turned to disappear from the cave entrance as if he had never been there.
The sleeping Oulong opened his eyes, amber pupils flashing with annoyance.
Although many in the tribe referred to that human-thing as the "Beast King," he didn't care for this trickster who put on airs of gods and demons.
He was clearly the Beast King!
It was just a pity that fellow was translucent.
Whether stones were hurled at him or spit was hawked at him, everything passed right through him.
If that fellow had a physical body, he would have devoured him in a single bite long ago!
...
While the human soldiers and mutants on the northern front were busy devouring food, Baron Isel and the ten thousand men under his command—who had boarded the wrong ships and sailed to the Baiyue Strait—finally had their first bite of hot food.
Clutching a golden stick of "bread" with grease smeared all over his mouth, Isel couldn't help asking:
"What is this?"
"Youtiao."
Glancing at this bumpkin, Fang Chang, standing on the dock, replied tersely, "Remember this: this is your first meal upon coming ashore. From now on, this place is called Port Youtiao."
Around noon yesterday, the Jungle Corps dispatched a detachment deep into the jungle on the southern bank to clear out local xenoids, cooperating with the Goblin Corps' W-2H seaplanes to eradicate at least five nests.
Around noon today, these expeditionary soldiers landed on the southern bank of the Baiyue Strait, set up camp on the sandy beach, and worked alongside Port French Fries' construction team to erect a rudimentary wooden dock on the southern shore, stringing underwater barrier nets along the coastline.
By dusk, supply boats from Port French Fries finally arrived before the soldiers could starve, delivering freshly fried youtiao.
Having never expected the Alliance to feed them bread, the Ratfolk soldiers were overjoyed. After receiving their rations, each and every one wolfed them down ravenously.
In Brahma Province, bread was food only citizens with respectable jobs could afford; most people ate dirt and beans.
Even if this bread was a bit greasy, no one turned their nose up at it. Instead, tears rolled down their cheeks, moved by the Alliance's generosity.
In fact, let alone the common soldiers, even the officers from citizen backgrounds had never seen such greasy bread before.
Although some Dawn City delicacies had appeared in Golden Gallon Port, limited by border closures, distances, and other factors, Alliance culinary culture hadn't penetrated the heart of Brahma Province, spreading only within limited pockets along its periphery.
Even if these officers had seen a bit of the world, having eaten dry rations at sea for two weeks, their mouths were completely devoid of flavor.
To say nothing of the junior officers, even Myriarch Isel's table manners were hardly refined. Chewing and swallowing with gusto, he mumbled through greasy crumbs around his mouth:
"Thank you... We will remember your help. Once the war is over, I'll put in a good word for you before His Majesty."
Fang Chang chuckled, paying no mind to his stubborn tongue, and continued in a businesslike tone:
"Don't mention it. You did well today; this is your well-earned reward. Starting tomorrow, we'll assign you new tasks, including building barracks, road construction, and so on... If your performance meets our expectations, we'll pay you wages."
Listening to Fang Chang, Isel froze at first. Snapping back to his senses, he protested indignantly, "Wait! We came to fight a war, not to help you build a port!"
He understood building a dock.
After all, men could cling to driftwood and swim ashore, but supplies soaked in seawater were ruined. With ten thousand men waiting to eat, they couldn't rely solely on small boats ferrying cargo ashore one trip at a time.
He could even understand building barracks; his men needed places to sleep, after all.
But what was with road construction?
Why did it feel like they had been sent here to clear wilderness!
Yet even though his mouth was exceptionally stubborn, his jaws didn't slow their chewing in the slightest.
Fang Chang chuckled. "Then settle the bill."
Isel went blank. "Bill?"
Fang Chang rolled his eyes. "That's right. You didn't think the food was free, did you?"
Hearing this, the youtiao in Isel's mouth nearly fell onto the sand. Yanking it out, he shouted flusteredly, "Wait, didn't you... say you'd cover our supplies? What about your commitments to the Community?"
Fang Chang explained patiently, "We did promise to cover your supplies, but that doesn't mean it's free. Furthermore, I looked into it—your Emperor indeed loaded funds onto meal cards for you, but those funds were deposited in the mess hall at Weifu Military Base. This place is at least a thousand kilometers away from Weifu. We can't very well have them march down here just to set up a kitchen for you."
Isel grew frantic. "What's the difference? Aren't they both your settlements?"
Fang Chang suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and said patiently, "What do you mean 'what's the difference'? Port French Fries is Port French Fries, and Weifu is Weifu. Can't you understand that one thing is separate from another?"
Explaining rules to this fellow was truly exhausting.
Looking at General Isel, who still wore a dazed expression, Fang Chang took a deep breath and decided to switch communication tactics.
"Listen, we aren't the benevolent Manager, and we certainly aren't running a charity. If you want to eat, you pay. If you don't have money, we can lend it to you—generously interest-free, even—but you must repay this debt on our terms. Otherwise, have your Emperor wire money over, or figure something out yourselves. Don't expect us to feed you for free."
Isel's face flushed blue and white with rage, and he wanted nothing more than to draw his sidearm and press it to this guy's head.
Yet remembering that even His Majesty's most elite Gray Wolf Army had been thrashed by these people, and that those behind him were merely a rabble of ratfolk, he could only swallow his fury.
Seeing General Isel fall silent, Fang Chang recalled something and chuckled. "Cheer up. It's actually not a bad thing. If you knew the situation on the northern front, you'd thank me."
Isel asked instinctively, "What happened on the northern front? Has fighting broken out already?"
Fang Chang didn't answer his question, asking with a smile instead, "Do you know a guy named Modric?"
Isel said immediately, "A millenarian under General Babita! I know him. What about him?"
"What about him?" Fang Chang smiled faintly and continued, "Last night, he and his men reincarnated together."
The Legion had fired two 400mm heavy artillery shells. Judging from the explosion, they were thermobaric rounds or something similar—immensely devastating, in any case.
While their effect against mutants burrowed inside the mountain was mediocre at best, everything on that section of the mountain, dead or alive, had been pulverized by the blasts.
Babita claimed that Modric had died fighting the mutants.
Yet the players of the Death Corps clearly saw people still engaged in battle on the mountain when the shell landed.
Those men hadn't looked like ordinary soldiers; they looked like officers.
After all, they had seen with their own eyes just how abysmal the morale of the Ratfolk soldiers was.
The unlucky sod's name appeared in passing among the discussion threads on the official forums, but only in a few brief lines.
Fang Chang felt no sympathy for him—he didn't know him, nor did he care. What he did find grating was the ungrateful bastard before him.
The survivors of Golden Gallon Port didn't need to thank him; the Baiyue Company's operations there were primarily business, trading advanced methods and technology for local labor. Before they arrived, those people survived by eating dirt just the same, enduring whatever hardships came their way.
Yet these guys had been pulled back from the gates of hell by him, spared from tumbling into the meat grinder alongside those clones.
And here he was, nitpicking and complaining.
"If you still want breakfast tomorrow, do as we say."
Leaving behind those words, Fang Chang shook his head and turned to walk toward the dock.
Watching his retreating figure, Isel swallowed hard. He felt sweat drenching his back, yet his palms were faintly cold.
The moment he learned of Modric's fate, he suddenly felt that boarding the wrong ship might not have been such a bad thing after all...
Not far away, several Ratfolk cannon fodder carrying shovels exchanged blank glances, their minds preoccupied with a different question entirely:
Breakfast?
What was breakfast?
Chapter 732