To be completely honest, Battlefield Atmosphere Group was truly panicking.
After obtaining Julius's "family heirloom" power armor, he thought his quest was finally over. He assumed he could hand over the remaining affairs to the survivors of Triumph City, make a graceful exit, and head back to the forums to brag.
Yet to his utter astonishment, the frenzied residents of Triumph City refused to let him leave. Instead, they hoisted him straight into the seat of Consul.
He felt these people had completely lost their minds.
At most, he had only ever made it to millurion, and he hadn't even commanded two thousand men before. How on earth was he supposed to govern a survivor faction spanning tens of millions of square kilometers?
However, the rest of the Wilante did not see it that way.
Setting aside Raizer and the ministers who had approached him afterward, even Penny, the "comrade-in-arms" who had supported him all along, earnestly insisted that no one was better suited for the position than him.
The Legion needed reform.
They had to repeal the old, unequal laws and establish new rules... to unite the Wilante of the settlement with the survivors of all other races.
In Penny's words, this was not only the Marshal's dying wish, but also the collective choice of every Wilante who was fed up with the myriarchs' lies.
After hearing her say that, Battlefield Guy was completely floored.
Good grief, was the true successor to the Alliance right here in Triumph City?!
This girl was acting even more "Alliance" than an actual undercover mole like him. At the very least, he had never suggested that the Wilante copy the Alliance's social model.
Utterly unable to make up his mind, he eventually logged off, typed up a report of several hundred words, and submitted the intel to the Manager through the official website's quest page, hoping the latter would make the call for him.
Yet to his dumbfounded dismay, after waiting for half the day, all he received in return was a single line:
[Read]
"What the hell?! Damn it!"
Sitting before his computer, Battlefield Atmosphere Group was rendered completely speechless, staring at his screen in exasperation.
That guy had washed his hands of the matter and dumped everything onto him...
To be fair, he had never held much goodwill toward the Legion.
Emotionally speaking, he had been delighted to watch those foolish far-right extremists suffer the consequences of their own actions. The endless disasters they endured were thoroughly deserved at their roots, and their comical displays of "finding joy in misery" and "slapping their own faces until swollen just to look fat" had provided top-tier entertainment.
Yet after going through so many incidents, he had to admit that among them were indeed many innocent people, and even people who dared to rise up and resist—people who were genuinely worth uniting with.
Especially when he thought of Corvey, thought of Penny, and thought of the many Wilante friends he had met along the journey...
Scratching the back of his head, Battlefield Guy ultimately sighed.
"I can't just leave them to rot..."
The house was already decrepit.
For now, he would try patching up the roof and replacing the broken beams so this broken-down shack would at least be habitable.
As for how to install the doors and windows, what furniture to buy, and whether to make it look nice... that would have to wait until this first step was done.
With that in mind, he went to the forum and created a thread, detailing everything he had experienced since leaving West Sail Port, the problems he encountered upon reaching Triumph City, and his current predicament down to the finest detail.
Because the thread was packed with absurdity and featured an eye-catching title, the entire forum instantly erupted shortly after it was posted.
Tail: "Giao! Sisi! The Pangolin really became the Marshal!"
Jieyan: "Holy shit! What a flex!"
Sisi: "Ah, this..."
Meat Mountain Steamed Bun: "Big boss!!!"
Ao'ao Sesame Paste: "Ahaha... It must really be a headache to deal with something like this, like suddenly being treated as a god or something."
Sisi: "Ummm... is there a chance that he doesn't find it troublesome at all, is secretly having a blast, and only came to post just to show off? (side-eye)"
Ao'ao Sesame Paste: "Ah... is that so?"
Tail: "Giao! So that's the kind of Pangolin you are! φ(－ω－*)"
Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "What the hell! I'm genuinely asking for advice, okay?! (cry-laughing)"
Thunder King Professor Yang: "Fuck! The open beta hasn't even launched, and someone's already risen to Marshal! If the devs don't nerf him, are they even human?! QAQ"
Tyrannosaurus Warrior: "Broken, the balance is completely broken. Trash dev, do something about him! T.T"
Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "Fuck you! Can't you stand seeing anyone else do well?!"
Ye Shi: "It's confirmed: the true successor to the Legion is in the Alliance. (funny)"
Irena: "Fast-forward to First Citizen. (funny)"
Elven King Fugui: "March east! Marshal! Fight the Alliance to the death! (funny)"
Brother Edge: "We're counting on you for the next expansion! (winks)"
Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "Be decent human beings!"
Fang Chang: "All joking aside, why don't you start by gathering representatives from the civilian administration, the citizens, and the military for a meeting to draft a constitution?"
Lao Bai: "And think of a new name. Don't forget that part. (grins)"
Commander Spring: "Wilante Province, Wilante Lab... Taking a page from the South Sea Alliance, how about the Wilante Alliance? (funny)"
Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "Well... about that, I discussed it with some of the Wilante. Their view is that it's best to downplay Wilante symbolism in the new regime. After all... Triumph City isn't made up solely of Wilante; there are also many other races who originally lacked citizenship."
Fang Chang: "Ummm... I understand your thinking, but based on our working experience in Brahma Province, I'd advise against doing that."
Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "Why? (blank stare)"
Fang Chang: "It's easy to slide down into the abyss of nihilism."
Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "Damn it! Can you speak human?"
Commander Spring: "Brother Fang Chang already put it quite plainly. You need to use your head, not just wait for people to chew your food and feed it to you. Objective reality won't vanish just because you ignore it. Even if there are other races within the Legion, the Wilante are still the majority. They've already made compromises. I'd suggest not going too radical, or the progressive voices will lose support. Besides, 'Wilante' can also be interpreted as an administrative division from the old era; it doesn't strictly have to mean the race."
Fang Chang: "Step with the left foot when it's time to step with the left, and step with the right when it's time to step with the right. Trying to thrust both feet forward at once will only make you fall flat on the back of your head. They've already painfully relinquished a symbol dear to them. Leave them one. (smirk)"
After dozens of replies filled with nonsense, the thread finally settled down. The board chat shifted from shitposting and memeing into technical discussions.
The Proud Brothers took a glance, but finding no room to chime in, dropped a "lol" and vanished.
Professor Yang, on the other hand, genuinely acted like a professor and managed to debate a few points with the big shots.
When it came to concrete governing experience, however, he couldn't hold a candle to them.
Jokes aside, given how realistic *Wasteland Online* was, anyone capable of managing a couple hundred NPCs in-game would have zero trouble running a real-world enterprise with a couple hundred employees.
Indeed, the Horse Cattle Group had long since grown into a world-class corporation, with a market valuation in reality even higher than in the game.
And inside the game, Brother Fang Chang had managed far more than just a couple hundred people.
While management ability could not be quantified as raw stats, one only had to compare Golden Gallon Port before and after his arrival to see a clear demonstration.
Such battle-tested practical experience was far more reliable than any lofty title.
By comparison, Battlefield Atmosphere Group was admittedly weaker on that front.
Still, these were all minor hurdles.
With past experience to draw upon and so many dependable brothers lending a hand, even if he couldn't recreate Julius's former glory, he was at least guaranteed not to do worse than Wutuo's reckless blundering.
Jotting the key points into his notebook, Battlefield Guy leaned back against his chair and let out a long breath.
The collapse of the Legion was inevitable.
This was not just Julius's dying wish, but also the will of all Wilante.
However, a civil war was avoidable.
What needed to be done was already crystal clear.
Domestically, he needed to collaborate with the civilian administration to revise the new charter, select representatives from among the citizens, and foster new interest groups to counterbalance the bureaucrats who had been the first to pick a side.
Beyond that, he had to make proper use of the Praetorian Guards—the final legacy Marshal Julius had left him—to maintain order in Triumph City and its surrounding areas, completing the transition from the old regime to the new before the Praetorians followed in Julius's footsteps and bowed out from history's stage.
Externally, he needed to step up engagement between Triumph City and the Academy, the Alliance, the Enterprise, and the Great Rift Valley, helping the Wilante reintegrate into the world, while simultaneously balancing the tensions among the four wayward branches to prevent internal friction from escalating further.
Reviewing his notes once more, Battlefield Guy gathered his spirits, took a deep breath, and reached for the helmet on his desk.
Just as he was about to return to the game, he noticed a small red dot appear in the quest log at the top right of the official website.
He grabbed his mouse and clicked it open, only to discover in surprise that it was a message from the Manager.
Beneath that single line of [Read], another sentence had been added:
"Congratulations. You have understood your mission."
Seeing those words, a wave of warmth surged through Battlefield Guy's chest.
He knew it!
The Manager hadn't forgotten him. That great man still had a place for him in his heart!
Recalling what he had endured over these three years, his emotions swelled uncontrollably. Unable to stop himself, his unruly index finger tapped out two words on the keyboard:
[Read]
As he pressed Enter, he felt instantly refreshed and completely at peace.
There was no better reply than that!
***
Meanwhile, in the Alliance's Settlement Ten.
Looking at the "[Read]" reply from Battlefield Atmosphere Group, Chu Guang chuckled heartily, closed the holographic window hovering before him, and set aside the stylus in his hand.
"This guy is even turning my own meme back on me."
It seemed the fellow was itching for a nerf!
Still, banter aside, speaking with a clean conscience, he had never once altered any player's drop rate.
There were indeed a few ridiculously lucky bastards on the "server" who hit the jackpot every single time, but the draw functions were genuinely random and had nothing to do with him as the developer.
These players were simply spoiled rotten.
If a story NPC died, they blamed him. If a quest went south, they blamed him. If their avatar lost a limb, they blamed him. If they couldn't take a shit, they blamed him too.
If you can't handle the heat, don't play PvE—go play single-player!
Perched on Chu Guang's shoulder while scanning the forum data, Xiao Qi suddenly let out a faint, melancholy sigh.
"...It feels kind of tragic."
A behemoth spanning thirty million square kilometers and encompassing a dozen administrative divisions from the Era of Prosperity had collapsed just like that...
Though she disliked the Legion, she saw a reflection of her master in Marshal Julius.
Although he was still young right now, one day he too would grow old...
And the same held true for the Alliance.
That was a fate no organic entity could ultimately escape, no matter how much she wished to stay by his side forever, until all stars burned out and the universe succumbed to heat death.
Chu Guang, however, did not grasp that Xiao Qi's melancholy reached so far into the cosmic distance. He assumed the little sprite on his shoulder was merely lamenting the fate of the Legion and Marshal Julius.
There was really nothing to grieve over.
Every train eventually reached its final stop.
Just as his little players couldn't stay in the starting village forever playing in the mud with him.
Perhaps in the distant future, the Alliance he knew would also transform into something unrecognizable to him.
"Rather than saying the Legion's collapse is a pity, it's more of a miracle that such a monstrous, deformed beast managed to stand for a century and a half without falling."
It was like a beast already physically dead, its limbs long ignoring the commands of its brain.
The south wanted more land, the west wanted independence, the east only cared about quietly getting rich and farming, and no one even knew what the north was up to in the Arctic Circle.
By comparison, the Mongol Empire, which bore the closest resemblance to it, had only lasted fifty-three years before splintering into the era of the four khanates.
Reaching up to pat Xiao Qi's head, Chu Guang said in a gentle voice, "...The Legion could never accompany the Wilante for their entire existence. Its time was up, that's all."
Still, thinking about it was indeed thought-provoking.
The radicals who had long dominated the mainstream of Alliance social thought had run headfirst into the arch-conservatives of Brahma Province, whose performance-art-level antics had shaken them to their core and prompted a gradual drift to the right.
Meanwhile, the Legion, which had stood unwaveringly on the far right for over a century, had suddenly spawned a massive wave of leftists after getting one foot stuck in the mud of Brahma Province.
Fate was truly an elusive thing.
Just then, footsteps came from outside the room.
Xiao Qi, perched on Chu Guang's shoulder, sensibly hopped back into the pen holder.
Hearing the knock at the door, Chu Guang cleared his throat.
"Enter."
It was Lyu Bei who walked in.
The young man's face beamed with excitement as he pressed his right fist to his chest in a crisp military salute.
"Sir, our intelligence network just received word of an uprising in Triumph City! Tyr, the commander of the Southern Legion, delivered a public address furiously denouncing the residents of Triumph City for betraying the frontline soldiers and all Wilante. He also accused the civilian administration and the Praetorians of being the true culprits behind Marshal Julius's death and claiming they fabricated his final testament!"
"Specific details are still being investigated, but one thing is certain: infighting has erupted within the Legion! The Southern Legion's scheme to drag Triumph City into the war has completely fallen apart!"
Listening to Lyu Bei's report, Chu Guang showed no surprise whatsoever.
He had already learned part of it through the forums—with even greater clarity than the Guards Corps' investigation.
As for the Southern Legion's reaction, it was entirely within his expectations.
"A gambler blinded by his losses has flipped the table. But given their current situation, they can probably do little more than shoot their mouths off to vent. They likely don't have the strength left to march on Triumph City to 'quell the rebellion'... What about the other legions?"
Lyu Bei continued his report.
"The Western Legion has withdrawn its fleet deployed in the Brahma Sea. The Eastern Legion is reinforcing our borders, though they haven't made any further moves... As for the Northern Legion, their exact situation is still being scouted, but our gathered intelligence shows no signs of any major maneuvers."
Chu Guang nodded.
"The Western Legion is probably preparing for independence, and the Eastern Legion is most likely doing the same. However, considering our past grievances, that fellow Salen is probably worried we'll take advantage of the chaos to stage a surprise attack. We'll hold our ground, refrain from provoking them, and simply keep an eye on their border deployments."
Chu Guang had met the Eastern Legion's commander before; the man was a quintessential oligarchic monarch.
Such individuals were cunning, but their external ambitions were far weaker than their domestic ones.
So long as internal factions didn't push him too hard, he leaned toward consolidation and posed little threat to the outside world.
After all, why gamble when you could quietly make a fortune?
That had been evident enough from how they drove the cornered Griffin to his death and sold out the entire eastward expansion faction.
And now that the Eastern Legion's landlords had tasted the sweet profits of trade with the Eastern World, they were even less likely to disrupt the balance between both sides.
Otherwise, where would they spend all the silver coins they had amassed?
As for the upheaval in Triumph City, it might very well play right into Salen's hands.
Of course, shedding a few tears for the fallen Legion was still necessary—how else could he demonstrate his loyalty?
Chu Guang suddenly found himself looking forward to this monarch's performance.
Hopefully, the "First Elder" of the Great Rift Valley hadn't forgotten to send him an invitation...
Chapter 927