"...Is that so? It sank after all."
Dawn City, Shelter 404, the reading room on B4.
Upon hearing the news of the *Haiya*'s sinking, Sun Yuechi froze for two seconds, a complicated expression surfacing on his face moments later.
Chu Guang could tell that when Sun Yuechi heard the news, his expression held both the relief of a lifted burden and hesitation over the outcome, but most of all, it was the "after all" he had just uttered.
He seemed to have anticipated this result from the very beginning—even before dumping the mess of Shelter 70 onto Chu Guang.
Chu Guang couldn't help feeling a tinge of curiosity.
However, before he could ask, Sun Yuechi, seated opposite him, spoke first.
"Is it all right for you to leave the front line?"
Chu Guang smiled faintly.
"They don't really need me there. They do quite well even without me. By comparison, meeting with the representative of the Southern Sea Alliance authorities is more important."
Although the *Heart of Steel* remained on the front line, he didn't actually stay there every single moment; occasionally, he would fly back by plane.
For instance, when the Mucilage Community had important agenda items to discuss at meetings, or when internal Alliance affairs required him to make decisions.
Sun Yuechi nodded in understanding, a gratified smile squeezing onto his face.
"That's good... I heard the Southern Sea Alliance was formed jointly by the residents of Shelter 70 and the survivors of the Southern Sea, right? In the end, they overcame the rift... Really, it was quite foolish, turning VMs into 'black cards.' We all forgot that we were originally compatriots. The shelter's doors have been open for a century and a half already; continuing to call ourselves shelter residents is far too foolish."
"Sometimes I can't help thinking that shelters should have been designed with a self-destruct countdown. When the time was up, they'd just blow up... Maybe that would have been better for those who survived."
"That would be taking formalism too far. Even without shelters, there could still be 'black cards.' Wouldn't it be better to turn this place into a museum once everything is over?" Chu Guang glanced around and continued playfully, "For instance, a library-themed museum. I've collected quite a few books here—some from the Era of Prosperity, and some written by the people of the Wasteland Era themselves."
Sun Yuechi praised sincerely, "It seems you really learned a lot from Boulder City."
Chu Guang replied, "After all, we don't want to walk the path they took all over again... Doing so would only trap us in a new cycle."
"That's good," Sun Yuechi said heartfeltly, nodding at Chu Guang once more in spite of himself.
This was a conversation between two Overseers.
Chu Guang understood what that "That's good" meant. It was one shelter's affirmation of another's work—the Overseer of Shelter 70 believed Shelter 404's methods might genuinely be able to end the Wasteland Era.
Sun Yuechi held no regrets about handing over his administrative authority.
Seeing that Sun Yuechi seemed to have nothing more to say, Chu Guang voiced his curiosity.
"I've always had a feeling that you foresaw today's outcome long ago."
Sun Yuechi chuckled bitterly.
"Does one even need to guess? I believe I said this a long time ago: I was merely a paper-paster trying to patch over cracks. By the time it came to my tenure, I simply couldn't keep patching anymore. I considered every possibility, but all led to the same result. My residents thought I was irresponsible, but they really understood nothing at all. I had already looked at every scenario, and this was almost the only way to spare them from disaster."
Pausing, he added, "You must have seen the 'inventory' in Shelter 70 by now—the stuff those people clamored for me to open when they blamed me for keeping the doors shut."
Chu Guang nodded.
"I haven't been there personally, but my residents took a look for me. There are indeed quite a few fine things."
Sun Yuechi smiled and continued, "Do you think relying on those things could change anything? Or rather, what difference would it have made if I had given those things to them?"
Chu Guang thought about it and replied candidly, "Indeed, it wouldn't have changed a thing."
There were plenty of power armor suits in the inventory, but Shelter 70's greenhorns hadn't even touched a gun; had they gone out, they would likely have been thoroughly beaten down by the Federation Marines.
Weapons were weapons, but humans operated them, and warfare was an integrated system.
The residents of Shelter 70 had emerged from the entire civil war completely unscathed, and they had ultimately played a pivotal role in the formation of the new Southern Sea Alliance.
Most importantly, throughout the entire civil war, they were the only ones whose hands were unstained by the blood of their compatriots.
No matter how many times they had cursed the people outside, wishing they would all die so they could start over, that had remained purely in their thoughts.
Everyone has a dark side in their heart; at the very least, their actions held the moral high ground.
After this civil war, their past mistakes were wiped clean.
Looking at the result, this fellow's shock therapy had actually served some purpose—it had at least averted the worst, most tragic outcome. To call him an irresponsible Overseer would be somewhat unfair.
Sun Yuechi fell silent for a moment, then sighed softly.
"...We were wrong from the very beginning. Perhaps that young man who piloted the cargo submarine was right. Our ancestors... may truly have obtained shelter authority through illegitimate means, and the real residents were actually locked outside. That's why, all this time, we feared the outsiders discovering the truth. We feared them learning the full history, feared that one day they would suddenly wake up and realize that the things we bestowed upon them originally belonged to them. Because of that, the gene of distrust was carved into our very bones..."
His Adam's apple bobbed, and he continued:
"Aside from the battleship *Haiya*, which was built to counter the threat from the Legion, all the other warships, though built under the guise of resisting external foes, were in truth meant only as insurance for Shelter 70's rule."
"Yet the irony is... as you've seen, those checks and balances proved completely useless. And the only warship genuinely forged with the Legion as its hypothetical enemy ended up being used exclusively against our own people from beginning to end."
"I guessed the *Haiya* would eventually sink, but I truly didn't expect this civil war would conclude in such a mild manner... In my assumptions, the price paid would have been far higher, and the final outcome might have been a bit better than the past, but certainly not better than what we have now."
At this point, Sun Yuechi looked at Chu Guang and offered his sincere thanks.
"This is all thanks to you... Thank you."
"You're welcome. Ending the Wasteland Era is the duty of Overseers like us."
Chu Guang nodded to him. Suddenly recalling something, he added, "By the way, Li Minghui has arrived in Dawn City. He intends to speak with me in person regarding future cooperation. Although he hasn't asked to see you, would you like to meet him?"
Sun Yuechi seemed tempted, but as if recalling an unpleasant meeting with someone in the past, he shook his head with lingering trepidation.
"Better not... I'm already retired. Meeting me won't do him any good."
"Is that so? I actually think meeting him might be better—he is your compatriot, after all. Of course, it doesn't matter if you don't; that's your freedom..."
Chu Guang smiled as he spoke. Pausing for a moment, he suddenly added, "There are many missing parts in the Overseer's log of Shelter 70. Do you plan to fill them in?"
Sun Yuechi was tempted, but seemingly for the same reason, he ultimately shook his head.
"Let's talk about it later... I quite like my current job."
Though Chu Guang felt a touch of disappointment, he said nothing and merely nodded.
Settling accounts with one's own past was no easy feat.
He understood what was on Sun Yuechi's mind. Sun still felt attached to Shelter 70, perhaps even more than he did to the survivors of the Southern Sea.
It was enough to settle accounts up to the civil war's trigger—the collapse of the Ocean Current Power Station.
The Church of the Torch had been the direct perpetrators, Zhalas and his clique were accomplices, and the late President Mengge had indulged them.
As for what happened over the past hundred and fifty years, or more than two centuries ago, the survivors of the Southern Sea no longer wished to pursue it. As the former Overseer of Shelter 70, he naturally had no reason to bring it up proactively, and Chu Guang, standing from the perspective of the Alliance and the current Overseer of Shelter 70, had even less reason to do so.
This fellow had thought it through from the start, which was why he had surrendered shelter authority without hesitation.
There was no question that the Southern Sea Alliance had won this civil war, but the greatest winner was actually Shelter 70, which had stayed out of the fray, along with its actual owner, the Alliance.
As for the survivors of the Southern Sea, they had won completely, yet also lost completely...
...
North Street, Dawn City. In the lobby of Highway Town Hotel, a bustle of activity crowded the front of the bar counter.
Guests seated there eating breakfast were watching the television beside the bar.
To the survivors of Dawn City, who had long enjoyed electricity from controlled nuclear fusion, television was hardly a novelty, but its widespread adoption was a recent development.
Traditional media outlets that had grown through newspapers and radio had expanded into new ventures, giving the general public the option of watching television news in addition to reading newspapers.
Before this, most video devices used by local survivors were tablets converted from VMs, which were primarily produced using black boxes.
Nowadays, VMs no longer needed to be manufactured via black box. Not only had the industrial district of Daybreak City achieved mass production, but they had also upgraded the models through several iterations.
As a result, players had new wrist-mounted computers, Dawn City residents had their new televisions, and in the future, they would have their own computers, smartphones, smart wearables, Endpoint Cloud, and even android maids.
In this regard, a certain Overseer had truly fulfilled his promise to build a new Ideal City in Qingquan City.
This place was indeed looking more and more like that wondrous city.
Even if it was still a bit low-spec for now.
At that moment, the morning news was broadcasting on the TV.
"...At 8:15 yesterday evening, the Burning Corps successfully seized the North Island presidential palace and discovered the body of Zhalas in the bunker beneath it."
"Based on preliminary assessments of the gunshot wound beneath the jaw and the position where the weapon fell, Zhalas's cause of death was suicide."
"The commander of the Burning Corps declined to disclose any information regarding casualties from the operation, but specifically mentioned that no casualties occurred during the assault on the airfield."
"Currently, the Burning Corps has handed over Zhalas's body to the Southern Sea Alliance, and it is being kept in the North Island hospital morgue for the local survivors to decide how to handle. Transferred alongside him were his accomplices and members of his puppet cabinet; subsequent trials will take place in the near future."
"With the fall of the Zhalas regime, the protracted turmoil in the Southern Sea has finally drawn to a close. Investigations into the sinking of the Ocean Current Power Station and research vessel *Golden Coast*, among other sunken ships, will proceed concurrently with the reconstruction of North Island."
"The Southern Sea Alliance authorities have stated that the top priority is restoring local production and daily life."
The television screen switched from the studio to the harbor on Ring Island.
Facing a cluster of microphones, Li Minghui, Navy Commander and interim president of the Southern Sea Alliance, declared in a ringing voice:
"The war is not yet over! The Alliance supported our war, and now it is our turn to support our allies!"
"The naval port and airfield on North Island will be permanently open to the Alliance, including North Island's shipyards!"
"If we do not eradicate the Church of the Torch, trouble will come knocking again and again. We will take yesterday's lessons to heart, and no matter what difficulties we face in the future, we will never again cooperate with barbarians!"
The broadcast switched back to the studio.
"According to our reporter on the scene, representatives of the authorities expressed special gratitude at the press conference for the Alliance's assistance. They stated that the survivors of the Southern Sea will forever remember the helping hand extended by the Alliance in their hour of crisis, and welcomed Alliance survivors to the Southern Sea for vacations, work, living, and investment."
"Our network will continue to follow and report on further developments in the Southern Sea!"
After the report on the Southern Sea concluded, the broadcast quickly switched to the northern front.
Several guests sitting at the counter exchanged glances. A drunkard already drinking heavily early in the morning let out a hiccup and asked, "The Southern Alliance... Is that the alliance in Jinchuan Province?"
"Are you an idiot? Where would Jinchuan Province get a sea?!" a man who looked like a mercenary mocked.
The drunk didn't get angry, arguing stubbornly, "What if there is one? I've never been there, how should I know..."
A traveling merchant sitting nearby said in a conversational tone, "That place is way farther than Jinchuan Province. Even further south—all the way down to the equator."
Hearing this, the patrons marveled.
"...That really is far."
"I've traveled north and south for quite a few years, but I've never been anywhere that far."
The drunk took a swig of vodka and muttered, "Running off to fight a war so far away... wonder what good that does the Alliance..."
"What good does it do?" The mercenary-looking man chuckled and teased. "Asking that question shows you watched the news for nothing."
What good?
By directly inheriting two centuries' worth of naval military and civilian technology developed by the survivors of the Southern Sea, the Alliance, taking to the water for the first time, had bypassed two hundred years of trial and error to leap into becoming a major maritime power. They had already won until they were numb!
Even a mercenary like him could see how many times their esteemed Overseer had won.
The drunk looked bewildered, scratching the back of his head with his right hand.
The merchant beside him smiled faintly and said nothing, quietly eating his breakfast.
He had booked a flight to Port French Fries the previous night, and it was scheduled to depart in three hours. While these people were still chatting aimlessly, he had already mapped out his future business empire.
Ever since the civil war in the Southern Sea erupted, he had been following the conflict's shifting tides, and now the war had finally reached its conclusion.
Currently, the entire Southern Sea was waiting to be rebuilt from the ashes. It was not just North Island that needed reconstruction, but also the Ocean Current Power Station, Coral City, and more—all of which were obvious commercial opportunities.
Add to that the future development of the *Tianting*, and the Alliance's investments in the Southern Sea would be immense. Anything he did there would net him a fortune.
Pushing aside his empty bowl of beef noodles, he wiped his mouth with a napkin. Suddenly thinking of something, he looked at the old man behind the bar.
"Boss, pour me a glass of vodka too."
Old Hook recognized this regular customer, recalling that he was a traveling merchant from Jinchuan Province who had settled down in Dawn City last year.
Pouring him a small glass, Old Hook bantered with a grin, "Now that's rare, having a drink so early in the morning."
"Today is an exception, haha."
Zhou Nan smiled in high spirits, took the glass from Old Hook, gestured a distant toast toward the television, and tossed it back in one gulp.
"To the Alliance's victory!"
Praise the Overseer!
Ever since coming to the Alliance, his good luck had never ceased!
...
On Embassy Street, atop a three-story Western-style building with front and back courtyards, the flag of the Legion fluttered.
This was the Legion's embassy in the Alliance, completed only recently.
Before this, the Legion's delegation had always camped on the outskirts of Dawn City.
Originally, that hadn't been an issue, but as time passed, the Wilante themselves found it inconvenient.
Especially with the advancement of the Mucilage Community initiative, more and more Wilante traveled to Dawn City for various activities, and the Legion participated in an increasing number of Community affairs. In the end, Bannote broke tradition and accepted the Alliance foreign minister's proposal to establish mutual embassies.
At that moment, Bannote was sitting on the sofa in the embassy parlor, watching the news on television.
When the naval battle between the Southern Sea Alliance and the Northern Federation came on screen, a sneer immediately rose to his face.
"Hah. Nowadays... any piece of scrap metal dares to drag the Legion into its name."
On the screen, a majestic battleship slowly sank to the seabed amid churning, thick smoke.
According to the report, this battleship named the *Haiya* had been built by the survivors of the Southern Sea to counter the threat of the Legion, and the main gun mounted on its bow had been stripped directly from a starship, specifically designed to pierce the Legion's airships—or rather, the deflector shields on their frigate cores.
Watching the news to the end, Bannote curled his lip and switched off the TV.
Though he fundamentally looked down on the "fishermen" of those small islands, hearing that the battleship's main gun had actually been salvaged from a starship still sent a jolt of alarm through him.
Thank goodness the battleship sank.
If that had fallen into the Alliance's hands, those bastards would have surely come up with all sorts of crazy tricks with it.
Thinking of the *Heart of Steel*, Bannote exhaled in relief and brushed the matter aside.
The Southern Sea was simply too far away. The Legion's navy was primarily in the hands of the Western Legion, whose core interests lay on another continent, separated by vast distances.
In any case, as long as that monstrosity didn't fall into the hands of the Alliance, all was well.
At this moment, Bannote had no idea that four identical railguns were sitting right inside Shelter 70!
And with sufficient steel and power, North Island's shipyards could churn out another such toy in no time flat...
...
The Wilante were not the only ones paying attention to the situation in the Southern Sea.
Regarding the "Southern Sea Alliance"—which looked suspiciously like an Alliance proxy and would soon join the Community as a new member—the major powers across the wasteland had all, to varying degrees, followed the latest developments through Alliance media.
Among them were not just the Enterprise and the Academy, but also the Free State... and even distant Xilan.
In Tiandu, within the grand imperial palace.
Seated upon his throne, Wutuo savored fine wine imported from Port Golden Gallon while gleefully listening to a eunuch read aloud the latest issue of the *Dawn Garden Post*. Grinning from ear to ear, he couldn't help shouting "Splendid!" several times in praise.
Fair's fair: not everyone in the Alliance was a flatterer; there were still people who dared speak the truth, and the news in this newspaper was certainly thrilling.
Because the Alliance Overseer had set his eyes on the queen of the Lion Kingdom, the Lion King dared not voice his fury; his acquiescence not only stirred public outrage within his kingdom, but also provoked fierce jealousy from the young Honey Badger princess who was infatuated with the Overseer, triggering a violent clash between the two kingdoms on their border, threatening to spark a Second Battle of Sunset.
Smoke was already rising from the Alliance's backyard, and now the fire had spread to the Southern Sea, reportedly even incinerating a *Tianting* station. Yet Dawn City's media had not breathed a word about it; only the truth-telling *Dawn Garden Post* had stepped forward to expose the naked truth to the world, stripping the Alliance bare for all to see.
"...This Alliance commits endless misdeeds and brings disgrace upon itself; it won't be long before it collapses!"
Wutuo felt thoroughly satisfied, a drunken flush gracing his cheeks.
Were it not for the great distance, he would have loved to reward the newspaper with coin so those bold reporters could publish even faster.
Perhaps because of the alcohol, his eyes rolled slightly as a sudden thought struck him.
"The Alliance is busy with the front lines in Sunset Province and Ten Peaks Mountain; they surely have no spare attention for the Southern Sea... Wouldn't it be perfect if this Southern Sea Alliance became a tributary state of my Xilan?"
The term "tributary state" was something he had picked up from the *Dawn Garden Post*. He had heard that the Lion Kingdom and Honey Badger Kingdom were tributary states of the Alliance, Camel Hump Kingdom counted as half of one, while Golden Lizard and Falcon belonged to the Academy and the Legion, respectively.
The eunuch reading the paper was taken aback, and Duke Nihak sitting nearby was also stunned.
The former simply couldn't follow His Majesty's train of thought and wasn't sure whether to respond, while the latter had returned only recently and hadn't read the earlier issues sent by Duke Garava, so he didn't quite grasp what a "tributary state" was.
Seeing that no one objected, Wutuo rubbed his chin and said, "...Didn't the Wilante make some cement in Port West Sail? And steel and such—it's piling up in our warehouses and nearly rusting away. Why not sell it to them? Oh, right—price it in Xilan currency! We should get in on that pricing power thing too!"
According to the *Dawn Garden Post*, the Alliance had risen so rapidly largely because their Overseer shoved silver coins into wastelanders' pockets, exchanging them for the things of real value in their hands.
Though the paper never explained how the Overseer managed to shove silver coins into their pockets, Wutuo figured it was an absolute stroke of genius. The Empire ought to figure out a way to do it too, and they might as well seize this opportunity to launch a grand scheme.
The survivors of the Southern Sea needed to rebuild their homeland, so they would certainly need steel and cement, and he happened to have a surplus of both.
That steel and cement had originally been meant for road construction, but rebuilding the infrastructure around Tiandu and Port West Sail didn't require nearly that much, leaving the surplus piling up like mountains in warehouses.
Truth be told, he didn't understand why the Wilante bothered producing so much steel and cement; what he wanted was rifles, artillery, and soldiers who knew how to fight.
Yet to his frustration, those big-nosed bastards acted as if he were their closest friend—not only forcing trades, but also using unsold goods to settle their debts.
He figured that since he couldn't collect the debts anyway, he might as well humor them and take a bunch of miscellaneous junk.
Who knew when it might come in handy?
Now, he felt exceedingly fortunate. Thanks to his foresight in accepting the Wilante's plan, wasn't that pile of junk finally proving useful?
Duke Nihak stroked his chin, musing that His Majesty seemed to make some sense.
Having served as governor in Port Golden Gallon, he understood business to some degree. The Xilan coin had virtually no competitiveness against dinars or silver coins, putting them at a severe disadvantage in trade and inflicting heavy losses on the imperial treasury.
Now that surging tariffs from Port Golden Gallon brought significant revenue into the Empire, they could use this spare money to make a move.
"The only problem right now is... the Southern Sea Alliance has no Xilan currency. How do we make them buy our goods with Xilan coins?" Nihak mused, stroking his chin.
Seeing Nihak's distressed look, Wutuo sipped his wine and smiled faintly.
"That's easy. It doesn't matter if they don't have it; we'll simply lend them a sum of Xilan coins."
This trick was another lesson he had learned from the *Dawn Garden Post*.
During the Battle of Sunset, the Alliance had provided silver coin loans to the Lion Kingdom and Honey Badger Kingdom, stimulating their infrastructure development on one hand while allowing Alliance enterprises to make a fortune off those construction projects on the other.
Looking further back, the Enterprise's aid to the Alliance had taken a similar form.
Though he couldn't articulate the deeper principles behind it, he was quite adept at mimicking what worked.
Nihak looked in astonishment at His Majesty's sudden enlightenment. His expression morphed into delight, and he rose from his chair.
"Your Majesty is brilliant! By lending them a sum of money, we not only sell our unsellable cement, but also become their creditor!"
He had served in Port Golden Gallon for so many years without ever thinking of this move, yet His Majesty had come up with it!
Was this newspaper really so magical?!
Nihak couldn't help thinking that once he returned, he must have Duke Garava send him a few copies so he could study them thoroughly.
Watching the thoroughly shocked Nihak, Wutuo smiled faintly and set down his goblet.
"You flatter me. Sit."
Though his face showed little emotion, he was inwardly thrilled to have displayed such sharp acumen before his minister.
Just as Wutuo was congratulating himself on his strategy, a grand campaign was "quietly" unfolding in Mammoth State in northeastern Brahma Province.
On one side was the local army of Mammoth State, numbering fifty thousand men but claiming one hundred thousand, personally led by the Governor of Mammoth State.
On the other side was the Moon Clan Resistance, claiming ten thousand but barely scraping together six thousand, more than half of whom were serfs and vagrants picked up along the way, led by Laxi, the former commander of the Port Golden Gallon militia.
Evidently, the Governor of Mammoth State had no regard for this rabble; he hadn't even bothered His Majesty, planning instead to send a victory report to Tiandu after the battle to give the Emperor a grand surprise.
Coincidentally, his opponent, Laxi, did not take his enemy seriously either.
One hundred thousand men...
What absolute bullshit!
In this godforsaken patch of hostile terrain, if ten of them could scrape together a single rifle, he'd admit defeat!
Having arranged his operational deployments, the scruffy man simply squatted in the military camp and flipped through a copy of the *Survivor Daily* that had arrived with the supplies.
Looking at the front-page news about the Southern Sea, Laxi bit into a steamed bun and muttered to himself, "Damn, that was fast!"
He remembered that back when he was still living large in Port Golden Gallon, the Alliance was locked in a stalemate with the Federation in the Southern Sea. Aside from deploying the Burning Corps, there hadn't been any indication of an impending clash.
Yet in the blink of an eye, the Federation had been wiped out.
Now that the Alliance had secured the Southern Sea, massive infrastructure projects would surely follow.
To develop this wretched patch of land called Mammoth State, he had to seize this opportunity!
This place was so poor that all it had left was people!
Stuffing the last piece of steamed bun into his mouth, Laxi's eyes flashed with a sharp gleam as he chewed.
He had to move even faster!
Chapter 775