Chapter 840 - This Game Is Too Realistic

Chapter 840: The Alliance's "After-Sales Service" The death of the Heavenly King continues to have a profound impact, with the "Survivor's Daily" in Golden Gallon Port closely following the developments of the event. The survivors at Golden Gallon Port are caught between shock at Janusz's tragic downfall and concerns about whether this might cause uncontrollable ripple effects across the Boruo province. In fairness, Janusz did overstep some bounds. His ferocity was even greater than that of Lasi, and he was unrestrained in wine and women. Not even mentioning his public virtues, his personal virtues were truly lacking. While the Alliance also has members of questionable character, they at least don't engage in strong-arm tactics; everything they do is consensual. Yet, giving credit where it's due, Janusz was indeed the one who kicked down the decrepit house of the Empire. Just as Lasi plagiarized the Alliance's strategies, Janusz mastered and executed the ruthless tactics of his old troop employer with an extraordinary flair, almost uprooting the very "foundation." But now he is dead, and what remains is a mess of rubble and chaos for others to clean up, which is certainly not good news for those who have yet to rebuild their homes. Despite the Westland Empire's numerous flaws, that dilapidated house provided some shelter from the storms. But that's a matter for later... At a noodle shop near the port area, the early morning was bustling as a group of patrons engaged in idle chatter. “I knew he wouldn't end well!” A dock worker slapped his thigh, lamenting in a tone tinged with grim satisfaction, his thick brows furrowing with that inevitable sense of "I told you so." "This man was too bloodthirsty, harming others and himself!" A nearby vendor nodded in agreement, expressing regret while reading the headlines from the newspaper. "Governing a large domain is unlike flipping a pancake; it can't be done in such a chaotic, haphazard manner." "Perhaps fate was not on his side. His appearance lacked an imperial aura, unable to suppress the throne and ending up crushed." “What’s this imperial aura nonsense?” "...Indeed, he looked fit to be a general, but he meddled in matters he shouldn't have, costing him his life." With corpses frequently washed ashore by the Eternal Flow River, superstitions have gained traction among the middle-lower class of Golden Gallon Port society. It's hard to say this surge wasn't partly fueled by the "encouragement" of players, as locals were adept at mimicking without progressing to discerning essence from dross. However, as a topic for idle gossip, these were mere trivialities. Followers of the Great Horned Deer God have taken to studying physics; similarly adaptive, Boruo's residents wouldn't mind adding "ghost gods" and "science gods" to their pantheon. As the debate among the group became a cacophony of voices, a teacher at the table rolled his eyes, intending to engage these coarse men in some civilized discussion. But before he could interject, his colleague sitting across from him stopped him with a gesture. "Enough, enough, you know it all already. Hurry up and eat your noodles; class is about to start!" This topic could spiral on endlessly with no resolution in sight. The teacher understood this well, rolling his eyes again, silently picking up his noodles with a sigh. Hopefully, his students wouldn't follow this trend of attributing rationality to fate. Seated quietly in the corner of the noodle shop, a man read the newspaper while waiting for his food. As his order arrived, he set the paper aside, pulling chopsticks from the container and lamenting to Bureau with a heavy sigh. “When carbon burns too hot, it turns to ash... Bureau, we need to learn from this.” Bureau was taken aback, overthinking before asking, “Are you feeling sorry for Janusz?” He remembered his boss once said it would be great if someone could knock down the Empire's rotten house. Yet, while Lasi remained stagnant, the powder keg at West Sail Port exploded first, seemingly setting half of the Boruo province aflame. Ah Xin shook his head. “No, his death is beneficial — for everyone. If he had lived, it would have been a major headache.” But in retrospect, the true cause of his death likely wasn't simple, potentially orchestrated by the legion or the Alliance from behind the scenes. However, what transpired in those shadows was beyond his status to ascertain. Ah Xin was fully aware of his position. Although he controlled the cotton trade across two states and was respectfully called "sir" by certain commanders of the Black Panther Army, in the eyes of the true giants, he remained a mere small fry. Yet even small fries have their means of survival — leveraging power. He paused, speaking once more. “With the establishment of the Boruo State, Abusake leads, advocating constitutional governance. External forces, including the Alliance, induce various warlords to cease-fire, setting aside conflict and uniting against the invading legion... If the states within Boruo can truly form an alliance, diluted though it may be, it will still be good for us.” Bureau responded respectfully, “Boss, do you have any orders?” Ah Xin spoke calmly, “I want you to prepare. Choose a few sharp brothers, head to places like West Sail Port and Tiandu, and develop some members for our Assassin Gang. Remember, before expanding our operations beyond Leopard State and Tiger State, we need to scope things out first to avoid becoming someone's cannon fodder.” “Yes.” Bureau nodded earnestly, etching every word of the boss into his memory. Though unaware of the intricacies, his past experiences told him that following the boss’s instructions would rarely go wrong. Ah Xin nodded back. Just then, his peripheral vision caught sight of the newspaper he used as a placemat. Or more precisely, a line he had yet to read. Mr. Mouse had gone to Mammoth State, intending to start a newspaper and establish a university. This development slipped under the radar in Golden Gallon Port, its significance overshadowed by the death of Janusz. However, upon reading this, a smile appeared at the corners of Ah Xin's mouth. He knew very well that he was just a rat in the sewers; even literacy only allowed him to carve out small niches in the shadows. Though not highly educated, he understood the vital importance of such matters. At last, it seemed a ray of hope had pierced the clouds. Compared to the death of a tyrant, it was this arrival that truly gave him hope that perhaps this land still had a chance... ... "Hahaha! Served him right!!" Over the ebbing and flowing waters of the Eternal Flow River, the north wind carried an exultant cheer. Looking at the blood-stained throne on the newspaper clippings, Wu Tuo laughed heartily, his previously unsatisfied stomach finally appeased. “A thousand blades couldn’t pierce the likes of you! How dare such insects claim my throne! Let’s see who else dares to sit on it! Whoever does will perish!” Standing by, the eunuch grinned ingratiatingly, raising a thumb in admiration. “Your Majesty is wise! The Pillar of Heaven connects the Earth’s veins, which link to the Tiandu Palace. Such powers can only be borne by a sovereign such as yourself!” Wu Tuo smiled, pleased by the praise, though he soon remembered something, shaking his head in slight regret. “...Pity the people of Tiandu, ignorant and led astray, bearing such needless suffering.” Had they possessed a bit more backbone, shown more loyalty, and joined his guards in fighting the bandits, they wouldn't be in such dire straits, becoming criminals. He had already sought aid from the Legion. His allies committed to his cause, increasing troop numbers at West Sail Port to slay those rebels. The Legion wouldn’t show mercy. Those Wellenberg warriors kill with ferocity! Heads roll like chickens under their blades! Changing their name wouldn’t matter; everyone knows they’re the remnants of the “sky bandits.” Once the legion finalizes its deployment at West Sail Port, those marauders are as good as dead! With this thought, Wu Tuo felt relieved. Though it pained him, in the end, it was his own people who would die. Yet he shook off these minor displeasures, purging them from his mind. As an emperor, he mustn't act with the heart of a woman, discounting cities and lives lost. With rot suffusing the Empire’s veins, only rivers of blood could cleanse it entirely and save Westland! While Wu Tuo envisioned the so-called "Boruo State" crumbling under the Legion’s might, Captain Olliette of the Legion received a telegraph from "Boruo State," utterly baffled. "Telegram to the Legion: We represent a coalition formed by the reformed individuals of the Gray Wolf Army, utterly disgusted by Janusz and his cronies' barbaric acts, hence we have risen to overthrow him! Janusz and his accomplices have now been executed, and Tiandu is under our control. We are willing to re-establish diplomatic relations with you in the name of the 'Boruo State' to discuss various matters, including the situation in West Sail Port..." The telegram arrived at the governor's office in the morning and reached the military base by noon. Its content was extensive, covering three full pages. However, Olrett didn’t make it past the opening lines before he burst into laughter. "Interesting... Hahaha! How intriguing!" he chuckled, scratching the back of his head with his right hand. As a legionary colonel stationed at Eternal Night Port and a key member of the Southern Legion, he was vaguely aware of their plans to expand eastward. Although not directly involved in the scheming at West Sail Port, his keen instincts allowed him to easily grasp the situation and understand their intentions. The Southern Legion hadn't expanded its territory for over a century, which was nearly unthinkable for a militaristic organization. Especially now, with development reaching bottlenecks both domestically and along the Great Desert’s colonial coasts, the tantalizing prospect of Boruo province dangled like an irresistible treat. Why should only the civilian officials enjoy such bounty? In fact, leaving this prize to those ineffectual civil servants would be a waste! Should this eastward expansion plan succeed, it would not only bring hardworking labor to the Legion but also extend its territory to the western side of Silver Moon Bay. For Olrett personally, it was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to achieve merit! Clashing constantly with mutants and natives wasn’t the path to advancing beyond a two-star colonel. But securing territory for the Legion — even if no land was ultimately gained — could still lead to promotion based on wartime merits. However, the development of events far exceeded his expectations. A blaze that should have swept across Boruo province was abruptly halted by a single gunshot. And it wasn't just the fire that was stopped. Their ties with Abusake and the remnants of the Gray Wolf Army were severed too. Although the wording of the telegram was respectful, it carried an undertone of equality, as if two families were conversing. It was blatantly obvious. These ungrateful wolves had found a new backer! Most likely, it was the Alliance! How else would they dare to negotiate terms with the Legion with the meager resources at their disposal? Even without reading between the lines, Olrett could deduce the League's involvement. No doubt about it — at least ninety-nine percent certainty! "...Whether the Boruo State is recognized or established isn't for those slaves to decide. We haven’t acknowledged it yet," Olrett chuckled, tossing the unfinished telegram onto the table. Standing beside him, his advisor whispered, "I’ve heard that an Alliance delegation is currently in Tiandu. It might be their doing." "Does that even need guessing?" Olrett smirked, sipping wine from a goblet, then let out a cold laugh, speaking slowly. “I suspect it's not just the Alliance; our own delegation might have played a role too.” The advisor frowned slightly. "You mean the pangolins sent by Colonel Bannert?” Olrett nodded slightly, his expression calm. "I've given it some thought. If it were just the Alliance's delegation, it wouldn't suffice to make Abusake suddenly revolt, launching a coup against Janusz prematurely.” “Even if the terms offered by the Alliance tempted him, he’d wait until the seven armies declared victory, returning to claim rewards before making a move — not stop a blaze midway.” The advisor nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed... this script should have played out with tacit understanding, but their sudden alertness is indeed odd." The Heavenly King’s army equipment wasn’t just limited to the port warehouse; it included significant "investments" from the Southern Legion. By right, they should still be in their honeymoon phase. Even with ulterior motives, they’d consider the untapped benefits. Once Janusz’s Kingdom replaced the Westland Kingdom, skirmishing with Mammoth State and warlords near Golden Gallon Port, the Southern Legion could slowly tighten their clandestine support while discreetly carving away their assets. However, with their abrupt reversal, abandoning remaining investments, refusing to continue this facade, only one possibility remained. An internal whisper enlightened them of the Southern Legion’s real intentions! Who else but the literate officials in Victory City could orchestrate something like this? That cowardly lot least favored warfare. "These hindrances..." the advisor cursed under his breath, fists involuntarily clenched. That was an opportunity paid for with three thousand lives! These self-serving incompetents couldn't even consider the fallen Wellenberg souls! “Haha, let them cling to our robes,” Olrett’s eyes narrowed, his smile growing colder. “These naïve folks... regardless of their efforts to dissociate or distance, recognition remains ultimately in our hands." “Mind you, the Heavenly King's army still has seven divisions undefeated. Our targets remain, and our deployment isn’t solely for avenging West Sail Port’s kin. It’s to assist our allies in quelling rebellion." “If we shirk, wouldn’t it bespeak treachery?” Post-rebellion circumstances are another matter altogether. Rising from his chair, Olrett cast an imposing gaze at the messenger standing by. “Relay this telegram as is to our General... send them the original.” “Furthermore, instruct all levels of combat units to remain on standby for deployment!” “To honor Wellenberg’s glory, dignity, and territory!” “Revenge is nigh!” The Wellenberg people, advancing with fixed bayonets, once again faced an existential threat. But this time, the threat hailed from Boruo province to the east of the Great Desert — home to its most “docile and Buddhist” denizens. The Boruo province's telegram flew over Eternal Night Port to the Southern Legion’s Ministry of War, while correlatively, a fervent mobilization began within Eternal Night Port under watchful surveillance from a nuclear-powered submarine. Residents from Vault 70 munched on potato chips, tapping on holographic screens, diligently incorporating drone-captured photographs into recently edited files. ... Meanwhile, far away in Tiandu, the visiting Alliance mission finally received the reform proposal from Abusake’s administration. Within the palace’s council chamber, the Eagle meticulously reviewed the document in his hands. Truth be told, the reform plan wasn’t poorly drafted — perhaps copied right from the political sections of Golden Gallon Port’s past issues of "Survivor's Daily." Public education, for instance. The bank’s shareholding reform, for another. Encouraging women in the labor force, and so forth. Upon reaching the abolition of agricultural taxes, the farsighted Eagle couldn’t hold back. Abolishing agricultural taxes? How were the tens of thousands of troops, inside and outside the city, supposed to feed themselves? On human flesh? “You really... tend towards extremes!” The farsighted Eagle sighed, shaking his head. “We hope for meaningful changes worthy of recognition, but didn’t expect you to bite off more than you could chew. Could you perhaps spread this plan over three to five years?” The Alliance, even with its core-technological Bluecoats aiding, went through times of “stuffing currency into sacks for clothing.” Boruo province's population dwarfed the Alliance’s by hundreds of times. Once mortality rates fell and life expectancy rose, even a stable birth rate would spring their population forward like an unbound spring. While Janusz's stinginess and regressiveness were indeed unwise, their chaotic approach here didn’t hold any promise either. Not even the Alliance could offer help — dispersing Ideal City among them would render everyone paupers. Acros the table, Abusake showed no sign of regret over any foolish deeds, instead chuckling lightly with nonchalance. "How can this be considered extreme? It’s never too late to start some things! We are willing to begin now, truly delivering equality into the hands of Boruo State survivors!" Abusake said passionately, looking eagerly at the Eagle, a shy smile crossing his face. "However... you can see the difficulties we face. The legacy left by the Westland Empire is limited, so we hope you can lend us some help." The Eagle stared blankly at him, suddenly finding his posture for requesting aid all too familiar. Well, well. I genuinely want to lend them a hand, but they're constantly eyeing my golden coins! Is this appropriate? "...It's not that we don't want to help you, it's just that you've sketched a bottomless black hole for us," the Eagle sighed, regaining his composure, tossing the proposal back onto the table. "If you truly wish to accomplish something, take it one step at a time... I'll offer you moderate assistance, but don't place all your hopes on us." He was a makeshift diplomat, not a true one, and wasn't given any budget by the authorities; all he could provide were methods and experience. Even a real diplomat could probably offer only these things. The Alliance has never doled out financial grants to its smaller allies. Low-interest loans are the upper limit of support, and acquiring such loans is no mean feat, as it involves the social insurance and pensions of Alliance residents, where safety outweighs profits. For instance, Mammoth State's authorities have been unable to secure such loans. Though Lasi's agents may be eloquent, they can only seek loans from banks in Silver Moon Bay or Golden Gallon Port, or rely on investors like Lister who bring their own provisions. Unaware of these intricacies, Abusake expected the newcomer to produce some funds, listening attentively. "Any advice, sir?" The Eagle patiently explained. "Abolishing slavery and encouraging women's participation in the workforce—these are commendable policies. Since you don't offer unemployment benefits, they won't cost you much money, just cohesion... ahem, I mean some rhetorical promotion.” Oops! I slipped my tongue. Yet, Abusake didn't notice anything amiss, nodding earnestly, "No problem, just speak your mind. I understand!" You better understand! The Eagle scrutinized this "make-believe cloud player" a bit more, ensuring he wasn’t just appeasing him, before slowly proceeding. "The agricultural tax doesn't need immediate attention. You're aware whose hands control the majority of the farmland in Boruo province." Abusake nodded in realization, then inquired further. "What about implementing a graduated tax? Exempt the first three mu per person, with different brackets up to five mu and another for ten mu." Surprised, the Eagle glanced at him, impressed by his ability to extrapolate. This guy has some skill, despite being a bit of a dimwit. "A graduated tax is a viable strategy, but you need to consider your actual circumstances, such as proxy farm ownership issues. If I lend you money to buy my land, how would you address that?” Abusake hesitated, taking a while to respond. "Such a deal exists?!" The Eagle rolled his eyes, unable to resist retorting. "Don't see this as a boon—if you farm the land, I bet the earnings wouldn't even cover your loan interest! Your populace are farmers with no alternative livelihoods; any legislation disrupting their connection to the land directly impacts them, as they have no choice." This was an issue of perception against reality. If people's dependency on land doesn't change, regardless of how collection is structured, the outcome remains consistent, differing only in short-term versus long-term pain. Seeing Abusake's bewilderment, the Eagle patiently passed on tried-and-tested guidance. “… The appropriate solution is to tax the circulation segment, such as increasing export tariffs on grain, imposing cereal—or bean—consumption taxes domestically collected from grain merchants. Though costs may still transfer onto producers, additional costs will be distributed across society rather than exacerbating specific groups." Abusake nodded with partial understanding, somewhat grasping the concept, albeit hazily. Regardless, he remembered what to do. "Alright, as you say!" The Eagle nodded in approval. "Yes, for now, that's the best course. Once you've industrialized, further adjustments can be made... As for the revenue, it should be substantial. At least, tariff income should suffice to foster some light industry. Tightening belts is a temporary measure; widening revenue streams is the sustainable path." His advice was founded on the large-scale promotion of cash crops in Tiger State and Leopard State, shifting lands from beans to cotton. Consequently, their reliance on importing cheaper grain from inland regions through Eternal River's harbor would naturally rise. With the Alliance's production system in place, Golden Gallon Port accepted older industrial equipment phased out by the Alliance, passing it down to Tiger and Leopard States. Such as spinning machines or sugar processors. Once Boruo State began to stabilize, it too could gradually acquire used industrial equipment from Tiger and Leopard States, at least purchasing worn sewing machines and tractors. This would establish a virtuous cycle, not reliant solely on subsidies from the Alliance or Golden Gallon Port. Of course, this rested on the premise that the accumulated money was properly reinvested. The Eagle wasn’t worried about Abusake or other warlords pocketing funds for personal indulgence—they'd likely just take more wives, and how much money could such luxuries really consume? It was akin to embezzling in "Tropico"; the president's illicit stash dwarfed in comparison to the island's profits—or losses. And in the wasteland, with Boruo province's development level, their options for extravagance were sparse—perhaps a fleeting indulgence in Golden Gallon Port, before they had to return. So long as they avoided absurdities like constructing wonders along the Eternal River or equipping donkeys with saddles, the funds would be well-sufficient. As for public education, beginning with literacy night schools would do. Once the initial literate workers reaped their benefits and landed good jobs, popular enthusiasm would naturally rise; expenses might not be as high as anticipated. If local survivors remained tied to agriculture with no desire for education, even erecting educational buildings and thrusting textbooks at them wouldn't suffice. The Eagle, parched from advising, drained two large kettles of tea while marking questionable areas on the proposal for revision. He figured his role as a pseudo-diplomat had been dutifully fulfilled—not only did he walk them through the process, but provided after-sales service. In uncertain moments, he even made brief restroom breaks to consult the forums for insight from seasoned leaders, returning only after they finished their own discussions. Abusake, a man notorious for his ruthlessness, acted like a compliant student before the Eagle, listening attentively with a secretary taking notes. Though illiterate, he could always have it read aloud. Impressed by Abusake’s resolve, the Eagle decided to set a good example by learning more about cultural knowledge when he had time. With the important topics covered, the Eagle suddenly remembered someone, quickly adding, "By the way, how long do you plan to hold Anwo? Since you've dealt with Janusz, isn't it time to clear Anwo's name?" Momentarily confused, Abusake slapped his forehead in realization, chuckling awkwardly. "Ah, my bad memory... I’ve just been overwhelmed by all these affairs and forgot." The Eagle: "..." How could one forget such a thing!? Even Abusake realized this excuse was flimsy, coughing before elaborating. "Actually, keeping him detained is for his safety. Though reformists like us have gained the upper hand, not all in the union support us, and I'm worried Janusz’s loyalists might retaliate." He then straightened, reassuring the Eagle earnestly. "Rest assured! I’ll order his release immediately!" The Eagle nodded in satisfaction. "Alright, we’d like to have a chat with him too. If convenient, I’ll accompany your people." "No problem!" Abusake replied with a smile, though internally he felt a pang of curiosity. Why are the Alliance people so interested in a nobody like Anwo? Still, he wasn't too worried. After all, they were in this together, and Anwo had no reason to betray him. With over two hundred lives marked on his hands, Anwo had no escape route. In due time, he planned to promote him. Anwo had submitted enough tokens of loyalty and deserved to enjoy some benefits alongside him... The manga adaptation of "This Game is Too Real" is set to release on Tencent Comics on August 4th, promising a daily update for 20 consecutive days. If interested, feel free to support it. To be continued...