Once the snow started falling, it just wouldn’t stop.
The north wind howled, rustling through the woods. The forest outside the outpost was pitch-black; behind every tree felt like someone was hiding, and every blade of grass seemed to be breathing.
The guards atop the wall had their nerves stretched taut, deathly afraid they would get scripted-killed by the story, just like that angler who had been groundbaited.
Spectating from the official website was pure torture.
Not only were the players on duty nervous, Chu Guang was tense as well.
He had already wiped out two waves from the Bloodhand Clan. Logically, there was no way they would leave him alone; even if it severely depleted their strength, they would have to settle the score.
Yet the marauders to the north showed no movement at all, leaving Chu Guang unsettled. He spent half the night upstairs wearing his exoskeleton, not coming down until after one in the morning, and slept in until eight or nine the next day.
The players, on the other hand, were full of vigor. Taking turns logging in, they acted as if they couldn't even feel the heavy snow swirling in the air, their work completely unaffected.
He was truly envious.
After all, the bodies weren't their own, and pain beyond threshold limits was filtered out. Even if their hands and feet went numb from the cold, some meat and carbs followed by a few hours in an incubation pod would fix them right up.
Of course, winter had only just begun; the coldest days had yet to arrive.
Don't claim minus ten degrees wasn't cold—try going south and experiencing that penetrating magic damage. It didn't even need to be below freezing; a gust of wind alone could strip away half your life.
"I should add a heating element to this exoskeleton."
"Forget it, better wait until they make the armor plates first."
Watching carts of bricks being hauled from the warehouse into the industrial zone, a smile formed on Chu Guang's face, and he nodded in satisfaction.
Not bad.
These players were quite sensible.
Having received their budget, Brother Restroom and Brother Levin spent money with newfound swagger. The moment they logged in the next day, they used the funds Chu Guang provided to purchase 5,000 bricks and 500 kilograms of cement straight from the warehouse, hauling it all to the industrial zone under the envious gazes of the other players.
Since the silver coins came from their corporate account, it was simply debited on the ledger. Old Luka was already adept at this task, meaning Chu Guang didn't even have to worry about it.
As for plastering sand, the warehouse hadn't stocked much, having used almost all of it during the wall construction.
That was no problem, though—a few silver coins to rent a handcart and hire two people to haul sand from the abandoned construction site due north would do the trick. At one silver coin per cart, counting five carts to a cubic meter, hauling around nine carts would be enough for now.
After all, a round trip was just over two kilometers, and the flat ground made for easy walking, so plenty of people jumped at the job.
Piles of sand and gravel lay there, once intended for hundred-meter-tall buildings. Although the exact composition wasn't identifiable by sight, materials from the pre-war era surely wouldn't be shoddy.
While some sand had been washed into the foundations by rain, the portion buried just under the surface was enough to last them for years.
To lay one square meter of an 18-centimeter brick wall required 96 bricks, 10 kilograms of cement, and over 50 kilograms of sand.
To fully enclose a 20-by-10-meter steel mill would take thirty to forty thousand bricks and four to five tons of cement; even emptying out the entire warehouse wouldn't yield that many materials.
But that didn't matter.
There was no need to be so particular on the wasteland. If push came to shove, they could just plaster up the north wall, scrounge up scrap metal and plastic sheeting, and build a U-shaped semi-open shed, slashing the required materials by well over half.
After all, a wasteland should feel like a wasteland. Chu Guang's former shack back on Bet Street hadn't used a single jin of cement, yet it had been perfectly livable.
That was called post-apocalyptic style.
At least Brother Restroom and Brother Levin, the two plant directors, didn't care.
Their top priority was to first build a converter furnace for steelmaking, cast two rollers from scrap metal, and forge an imposing set of armor for the great Administrator!
That was their primary task right now.
In addition to hiring two people to haul sand, they hired three players with construction site experience to help lay bricks and erect the converter's foundation.
Everything was proceeding in an orderly fashion.
However, compared to the smooth progress at No. 81 Steel Mill, things weren't going nearly as smoothly for the Cow and Horse Brickworks.
Lao Bai and Fang Chang, who logged on a step too late, arrived at the warehouse and were instantly dumbfounded.
Good grief, where was the pile of building materials?
It had been stacked so high yesterday, and now it was completely sold out the moment they logged in?!
"Fuck!"
"How were they so fast?!"
"Tsk, what a miscalculation."
"Carrying the bucket—they're the professionals at construction... Forget it, brothers, don't panic. Let's go scout the terrain first before figuring out a plan."
After rummaging through the warehouse, the four ended up buying only a wooden flatbed cart, plus shovels, axes, and billhooks for clearing land, before setting off into the falling snow with rations for four.
It wasn't that they wanted to save money for the shelter.
They simply couldn't spend their money even if they wanted to...
As a side note, because the corporate account could only be used at the warehouse, using it to buy guns at the weapon shop was out of the question.
To test this, Fang Chang had made a special trip to try, but the proprietress of the weapon shop couldn't even be bothered to look at him, so he had to give up in defeat.
The snow outside the outpost fell heavily, and the north wind blew fiercely.
Gripping his pipe rifle, Ye Shi grimaced, freeing an arm to wipe away the snow clinging to his bangs and eyebrows as he muttered a complaint.
"This fucking wind is way too strong. It's only late September—is this level of exaggeration really necessary?"
Lao Bai was more optimistic, chuckling.
"Probably testing whether the weather system is stable. In a game world, whether it snows or not depends entirely on the developers' whim. I wouldn't even be surprised if it snowed in summer."
Fang Chang glanced at the squad's sole Perception-type and reminded him:
"You'd better stay alert. We're currently at war with the Bloodhand Clan. Even though this river is inside Wetland Park, it's not far from the north gate. If marauders launch a sneak attack, we'll likely be the first to make contact."
Ye Shi curled his lips.
"Scared of what? The forest is our home turf! When marauders come, I'll go up and—*hiss*, wait, something's off. There seems to be someone ahead of us."
"Holy shit? For real?!"
Unreliable as Ye Shi usually was, his Perception was currently the highest among all the players.
Alerted by Ye Shi's warning, the other three players didn't hesitate. They hurriedly abandoned the flatbed cart, grabbed their gear, and fanned out.
This wasn't their first time hunting together as a team.
Nor was it their first time facing marauders.
Leaning against a tree, Ye Shi dropped his usual playful smirk, replaced entirely by solemn vigilance.
Carefully poking his head out, his gaze swept across the snow-draped forest before locking onto a single spot.
Gesturing in the rough direction, Ye Shi gave his three teammates a confident look.
"Flank him."
"Got it."
Positioned on the outer flank, Lao Bai moved first. Moving with silent coordination, the four advanced in sequence, spreading out into a quadrilateral formation to encircle their target.
Ten meters.
Fifteen meters.
Twenty meters!
Through the hazy veil of snow, a furtive figure finally emerged.
The man wore a gray overcoat and a thick felt cap, with a pipe rifle slung over his back. Using his right hand to keep the wind from blowing off the brim of his hat, he trudged toward the outpost.
He definitely didn't look like good news!
Fang Chang judged immediately. Before the man could notice them, he drew his bow, nocked an arrow, aimed at the man's right arm, and released the string with a snap.
A whistling sound cut through the air.
Unable to react in time, the man was struck in the thigh by the arrow and collapsed onto the ground with a shrill cry of agony.
"Don't move if you want to live!"
Lao Bai was the first to charge in, kicking aside the gun in the man's grip and menacingly planting the tip of his javelin against the man's head.
The man looked terrified, babbling incomprehensibly.
Fang Chang suggested,
"One of us needs to escort him back."
"I'll do it."
Gale raised the crossbow in his hand.
Although he was an Intelligence-type, a crossbow didn't rely much on stat scaling.
The other three trusted Gale's attentiveness, raising no objections.
Returning to the flatbed cart, Lao Bai retrieved a rope to bind the man, jabbing him in the back with his javelin as a warning.
"Try to run, and we'll take off your other leg!"
With that, regardless of whether the man understood or not, Lao Bai handed him over to Gale and watched as Gale marched the limping captive away toward the outpost.
...
Earlier, after seeing the Cow and Horse Squad depart from the outpost, Chu Guang saw it was getting late. He headed to the warehouse, chopped off a crab leg, and found a room in the former sanatorium to roast it.
In this snowy weather, food didn't spoil easily; keeping the crab leg for two or three days was no problem at all.
This stuff was high-quality protein, exactly what you needed to build muscle.
With some downtime each day, Chu Guang would stroll around wearing his unpowered exoskeleton, or do push-ups and bench presses with the Nitrogen Power Hammer on his back to train his arm strength.
Whenever he finished a workout, he took a shower in the bathroom, dried his clothes, and cooked himself a meal when hunger struck. Life was vastly more comfortable than it had been on Bet Street.
Though the physical traces of training weren't particularly pronounced and his stat panel hadn't changed from exercise, he could clearly feel that his strength and muscle coordination had improved slightly.
Chu Guang guessed that the data summarized by the medical examination equipment mainly measured the body's "base hardware," whereas exercise likely acted like a buff providing efficiency bonuses on top of that hardware.
Something like "Strength +3%" or "Strength +5%."
The higher the base stat value, the more pronounced the effect of exercise became.
For players with the Strength-type gene sequence, working out could also accumulate gene sequence development progress and break through hardware limitations.
Currently, Chu Guang's Strength stat was 10, meaning his base hardware was roughly 200% that of a normal adult male (baseline 5).
Even without technique and without maximizing his muscular coordination, he could easily crush opponents in the same weight class on raw stats alone.
If he ran into a Crawler again, even without his exoskeleton and Nitrogen Power Hammer, Chu Guang wouldn't necessarily win effortlessly, but at least he wouldn't be as battered as he was back then.
However.
Such a scenario was unlikely to occur.
After all, let alone venturing outside, even within the outpost, he kept his exoskeleton on under his deerskin coat most of the time.
He simply left it unpowered as a form of weight training.
A five-jin crab leg was half shell, but the remaining two and a half jin of crab meat was quite filling. Chu Guang clapped his hands after finishing and put out the fire.
Right at that moment, a player escorting an overcoat-clad native walked in from outside.
Having brought the prisoner into the sanatorium's main building, Gale stood strictly at attention and reported to the Administrator:
"Respected Administrator... we captured a marauder scout!"
"A prisoner?"
Chu Guang wiped his mouth, squinting at the man before him.
The man was covered in snow, mud, and withered leaves. A snapped arrow stuck out of his thigh, dark red blood staining half his trousers, making for a truly wretched sight.
He gritted his teeth and said,
"Is this how you treat guests?"
"Hospitality is reserved for guests."
Chu Guang felt he didn't look like a marauder, but neither did he seem like a local scavenger. He continued in an interrogative tone:
"Who are you? Why have you entered our territory? Signs are posted at all three entrances to Wetland Park, stating clearly that unauthorized personnel are strictly forbidden. Even if you're illiterate, you should recognize the skull symbol."
"I came to mediate!"
"Mediate?" Chu Guang narrowed his eyes, his tone turning frosty. "Are you with Bloodhand?"
"No! I don't belong to anyone!"
Sensing the cold hostility, the man rushed to clarify, but the wound hurt so badly that the surge of emotion pulled on his muscles, making him grimace in pain.
Only after quite a while did he catch his breath. Struggling to stay conscious, the man squeezed out a breathless sentence through gritted teeth:
"...Could you tend to my wound first? Any longer and I might kick the bucket."
*Kick the bucket, huh.*
*Seeing how composed you acted, I almost thought it wasn't serious.*
Amused, Chu Guang didn't press him further.
He tossed five silver coins to Gale, dismissing the player, then pulled a roll of bandage obtained from a blind box out of his pocket and tossed it to the man.
He hadn't tested its hemostatic properties yet.
Might as well use him as a test subject.
The man clearly knew how to use it. After deftly unwrapping it, he snapped the arrow shaft, plunged the included tool into his flesh, and endured the agony to extract the arrowhead.
Blood gushed like an open faucet, running down his trouser leg and pooling on the floor.
Chu Guang frowned and clicked his tongue at the sight, but the man acted as if it were routine. Gritting his teeth, he wrapped the bandage tight and exhaled in relief.
"Feeling any better?"
"Better," the man nodded, taking a deep breath before resuming where they left off. "My name is Hein, a merchant from Red River Town."
"Why would a merchant from Red River Town be mixed up with marauders?" Chu Guang studied him with intrigue and added, "Besides, from Red River Town to here must be fifty or sixty kilometers."
"Fifty or sixty kilometers? Ha, as the crow flies, maybe. If you want to bypass the urban ruins, it's at least a hundred and thirty kilometers! And if you want to be safe, you have to skirt the highway overpasses... roughly a hundred and fifty kilometers."
"And your point?" Chu Guang tilted his chin. "You didn't answer my question. Why are you mixed up with marauders?"
"Ahem, not mixed up, exactly... we just have some business dealings."
Hein's gaze shifted evasively. After an awkward pause, he continued:
"All right, I'll be blunt. I'm a merchant—or rather, an employee—of the Horseshoe Trading Company in Red River Town. Thanks to my boss's connections, we occasionally trade with some trustworthy marauder tribes in the southern part of River Valley Province, mainly dealing in population. Don't look at me like that—without us, those captives wouldn't survive the winter at all. At least we give them a chance to start fresh!"
"So you're in the slave trade?" Chu Guang stroked his chin with interest, though keeping his expression neutral.
"Exactly!" Hein nodded and went on, "My boss sent me to Qingquan City this time specifically to buy a batch of slaves from them. But by the time I arrived, I heard you were fighting a war?"
Chu Guang smiled amiably.
"Indeed. And your trading partner's enemy is currently considering something. Supposing your boss doesn't know you came to my place—"
Hein swallowed hard and nervously cut him off:
"I know what you want to say, but it's pointless. People die every day on the wasteland. My death wouldn't mean a thing to my boss."
"Is that so?"
"Rather than deciding what to do with me, wouldn't you like to hear my proposal first?"
"Go ahead."
Hein spoke rapidly:
"Bloodhand wants a ceasefire with you. They're willing to pay a ransom of 20 chips per captive... Of course, if any are missing limbs, they'll only pay half."
"Oh? And what about the contract they gave you?"
"Mine? Contract? What contract—"
"All right, drop the act," Chu Guang said impatiently, seeing Hein feign ignorance. "Do you think you can fool me? You said it yourself: people die every day on the wasteland. Who would risk their neck for nothing? Or does our ceasefire benefit you somehow?"
Hein gave an embarrassed smile.
"I wasn't trying to hide it... but there really is no formal contract between us. Fine, I'll tell the truth: their chieftain promised that if I bring their people back, they'd 'dispose of' their wounded to me at a cheap rate. But this benefits you as well, doesn't it?"
"No one wants to fight in heavy snow, and your neighbors have a headache dealing with this damned weather too. Why not sit down and talk it over? It's not an irreconcilable blood feud, after all; whatever misunderstanding there is can surely be cleared up."
"I deliver the captives to complete my job, you receive war reparations and make peace with your neighbors... All three sides win!"
Chu Guang smiled.
The curve of his lips, however, was icy.
Misunderstanding?
Cleared up?
Hahaha.
He had never heard such a hilarious joke.
Had it not been for him and, by sheer coincidence, this bunch of players, any other survivor settlement would have had its marrow sucked dry long ago, let alone what would have happened to the men and women.
Make peace?
Those people were merely biding their time for an opportunity.
Such as when the snow stopped.
"Mr. Hein, I think you're telling jokes. Reconciling with marauders? Do you even believe what you're saying?"
Hein's expression turned awkward.
In fact, before he had even set foot into this outpost, he had a hunch that this group was unlike any survivor settlement he had visited before.
Walls, trenches, sentries on duty, scouting patrols...
Not a single person here was a professional soldier, yet every last one seemed capable of fighting—and more importantly, unafraid to fight.
They wore bluecoats, yet harbored no illusions about the world's benevolence.
This negotiation was almost certainly going to collapse...
"I understand. You have your difficulties. If we can't come to terms, I won't force it... Could you let me leave? I'll keep my mouth shut about everything I saw." In a single second, Hein calculated his cut-loss decision.
Yet Chu Guang didn't say a word. He merely stared into Hein's eyes, unmoving, fixing him with a prolonged, unwavering gaze.
The gaze gave Hein chills, as though a Crawler were sizing him up. Cold sweat gradually seeped down his back. Unable to withstand the oppressive weight, his lips trembled as he spoke:
"Even if you kill me, you won't gain anything from it... Why bother? I bear no grudge against you. You can keep fighting; I promise I won't get involved again."
"There's no downside either."
For a split second, Hein felt his heart stop.
However, Chu Guang's next words rekindled his hope of surviving.
"You said you're in the slave trade?"
"Y-Yes!" As if clutching at a lifeline, Hein nodded frantically. "You need slaves? I can be of service! We don't just import slaves, we export them too, and we even offer door-to-door delivery. If you have any need—"
"Follow me."
Watching the man walk out the door, Hein was forced to cut himself off. Swallowing hard, he dragged his leaden legs and limped after him.
Outside, the snowfall grew heavier, the wind cutting against his face like knives. Where it blew against his open wound, Hein felt as though his blood was freezing solid.
Fortunately, it wasn't far.
The man led him to a crude shack and exchanged a few words with an elderly man on duty at the entrance. The old man nodded, turned into the room, and brought out a wooden box.
Chu Guang weighed the box in his hands, then handed it over to Hein.
Hein took the box, his hands sinking slightly under the weight, and looked uncomprehendingly at the man who had handed it to him.
"...What is this?"
"Open it and see."
A bad premonition crept into his heart, but Hein freed a hand anyway and opened the box.
When he saw the ornaments made of individual finger bones inside, the blood in his veins seemed to freeze solid, and all color drained from his face.
Having dealt with marauders for years, he naturally recognized what these were.
Those butchers took the index fingers of their prey as trophies, drying and cleaning them into ornaments to wear on their bodies, guarding them as jealously as their own lives.
This blue-clad demon!
He hadn't spared a single one...
"Winter is coming, and I don't have that many cells here. The captives you're looking for... I'm afraid you can only find them in there."
Looking at the petrified Hein, Chu Guang gave a nonchalant smile.
"Let's make a deal."
"I guarantee you'll get a batch of captives—a very large batch, in fact. You can put on a stellar performance in front of your boss, propel your career to its absolute peak, and if your luck holds, completely leave behind this life of living on the edge with your neck on the line."
"And I get to solve the trouble to the north once and for all."
Chapter 88