Chapter 912 - This Game Is Too Realistic

Chapter 912: The Quest for Innovation and Change While Abseik was lamenting how difficult it was to lead this group of "insignificant bugs," little did he know that the esteemed Committee Member Kaba had been silently criticized by the very creature he held disdain for. The saying goes, "beauty is in the eye of the beholder," and isn't it the same from the perspective of the admired? When the reasoning is hard to understand from one side, flipping it around often brings clarity. At least from Committee Member Kaba's standpoint, Abseik had little reason to complain. It is an undisputed fact that the Celestial Federation could not unite either the conservatives or the radicals, and this could hardly be blamed on the head of one literary figure who was both sour and stale. It is akin to saying that the grand Xilan Empire didn't fall because of women and eunuchs. Anyone with clear vision could see that the moment Wutu fled, the fate of Xilan was sealed. However, the Federation did accomplish one thing commendably; they at least allowed ordinary people to see hope. A solution devised by many gathered minds is surely wiser than the racked brains of a few inbred aristocrats making futile decisions behind closed doors. If the empire’s cohesion was in the negatives, then the Celestial Federation’s cohesion was certainly a positive. Amidst the roaring sounds of bombers flying overhead, the most learned individuals of Boro Province gathered to hold a book club, fostering friendships through literature. Of course, the literary gathering was just a refined facade. The real agenda for members like Committee Member Kaba and Niyan, among others, was to attend to the matters of education, seek out talented individuals from various societal sectors to serve as teachers and professors, and to unite the limited literati of Boro Province. Although their power was dwarfed by other societal factions, there were still roles that only they could fulfill, tasks that must be undertaken by them. As for the occasional distant or nearby sounds of explosions, sitting in a small courtyard, they chose to turn a deaf ear. In just a week, individuals who were initially strangers had transformed into close friends unafraid of sharing their thoughts. Although most of the time their views were different, or even starkly contrasting, there were no significant conflicts that fractured their harmony. After all, even in the face of disagreement, they stood united on one principle. And that was salvation. One morning, Committee Member Kaba sat in the courtyard, holding the "Survivor's Daily" in his hands, shaking his head and frowning. "These servants turning masters, their airs are even more absurd than their former masters." Unlike Abseik, Kaba didn't just think of his adversary but also included the centurions who confronted him with cold disdain. These fellows, who merely a year ago were dock workers, had now, in just a few short months, come to see themselves as the lords of Boro, forgetting they too once were common people. Sitting beside Committee Member Kaba was a young man impeccably dressed, who smiled and asked, "Oh? In Kaba's opinion, what do you think causes such results?" His name was Mengjie, originally Montchi, an early immigrant from the Moon Tribe to French Fry Port. His name, with its distinct alliance flavor, plainly revealed his heritage. During the Xilan Empire era, an alliance expedition team had dispatched a research group to the Lowell camp at Gingalon Port for sociology research. Mengjie, hired as an assistant to Madam Han Mingyue then, aided in her work. After the study concluded, and upon her recommendation, he pursued advanced studies at Camp 101 and became acquainted with Niyan, who was working at the embassy in Aurora City. During a period when Niyan was struggling with a lack of inspiration, Mengjie filled in as a "freelancer," contributing articles to the "Aurora Garden Gazette." Unlike Niyan, who enjoyed crafting tales that the Duke of Garava loved to hear, Mengjie preferred to discuss actual issues within the alliance in his articles. Such as the explosive proliferation of radicals post the miraculous victory of the Bouldertown Worker's Union, overshadowing the conservative voices for a long time. Though Bouldertown was like a runaway horse that dashed for a century and a half before collapsing, couldn’t the newborn alliance be akin to that? They were merely speeding along a different path, still needing to saddle and rein themselves in. However, given the newspaper's intended audience was infants and toddlers, it never saw public release within the alliance. Those who were the actual audience of the paper showed little interest in his criticisms, which were neither painful nor pleasurable. Surprisingly, submitting the same article to "The Goblin Observer" sparked some debate. But that’s another story. In short, after Niyan's invitation, Mengjie, who had changed his name, returned from the alliance to serve as a professor and president of Mammoth University. Meanwhile, Niyan himself had stepped behind the scenes to join the board of directors. Lashi hoped he would become the Minister of Education, opening more schools across Mammoth State and the Northern Three States. Whether there were political intentions, such as actual control over the Northern Three States, is a topic for another day. "Humans, or perhaps the root of human nature's flaws," Kaba sighed, tapping the ash from his cigarette, "Boro Province needs a thorough ideological transformation, obliterating all of the old to truly embrace civilization.” "If not, joining the alliance is futile, they're merely moving a thousand pillars over." Mengjie shook his head with a smile. "Elder sir, you are too extreme. The disruptors are Boros, the fixers are also Boros, and undoubtedly, some seated in that vehicle are Boros as well. How can this be attributed merely to human flaw? The alliance has a saying, something akin to everyone being born a blank slate, and potential is shaped by education. I believe, rather than seeing this as human nature's flaw, it stems more from an educational void." He paused and continued. "Of course, there is also the factor of conservative powers within the alliance fueling this ferment. They've neglected conservative voices for too long, and now they face inevitable backlash. However, for the alliance, this braking may not necessarily be a bad thing." Long ago, he had penned editorials for the newspaper, and he wasn't the only one advocating a similar stance. Though he isn't against introspection, laying all blame on Boros or human nature's flaw was inaccurate, and steering changes on those assumptions would be an exaggerated response. Witnessing the debate between Committee Member Kaba and Mengjie, Niyan, smoking and reading nearby, interjected with a laugh. "Despite often arguing with Mr. Kaba, this time I must support him. Whether or not there are forces within the alliance stirring trouble doesn't change the problems within ourselves." "The Vilant have their flaws, the Boro have theirs. No one is inherently lesser or more noble. Moreover, the deeper the suffering, the more deep-rooted the diseases, and the harder they are to eradicate. Curing the illness requires aggressive remedies, striking at the roots." "Mr. Mengjie, when we discuss problems, we can't merely refute without establishing a thesis. You are a principal after all, share your insight on curing this ailment with us." Amused by Niyan's jest, Mengjie chuckled. "You flatter me. I only took over as principal after your graceful retreat." Niyan responded with a smile. "Don't say that. I remember I begged you to come; you're helping me, don't belittle yourself." "Then forgive my humble opinion," Mengjie continued in a casual tone, "In my view, Boros aren't much different from other wasteland survivors. This land merely lacks equality and fraternity. While I agree we need a mental transformation, it's unnecessary to dismantle all those thousand pillars. We simply need to provide what they lack, and those pillars could well be the load-bearing walls of a new era." Ultimately, their failure lay in not proposing novel theories, and the old doctrines were recited for so long that they became religious dogma when failing to meet reality’s needs. If the focus for Niyan and Kaba regarding this ideological change was on "change," then Mengjie's advocated focus was on "innovation." Though perhaps not confident in swaying them, there was no harm in everyone discussing freely and exchanging views. "I beg to differ." Kaba shook his head. "Mr. Mengjie's views are too conservative. Given a millennia or centuries, perhaps it’d be fitting, but in this moment of life and death, perhaps not." "Forgive me, but that’s fallacious. Our journey is long, and pacing ourselves might still suffice. Viewed with a broader timeline, moderate reform need not lose to radical revolution." Not wanting to continue the seemingly futile debate with the two "radicals," Mengjie turned another page of his newspaper and came across a newsworthy figure stirring conversations in public discourse. With a smile, he shifted the topic, saying, "Speaking of which, this Zayed is quite popular lately. What do you two think?" Niyan sneered. "A bandit chief under Shaluk, cut from the same cloth as Gopal and Alayan—vicious to enemies and even harsher to their own. I don't hold Shaluk in high regard, so why ask my opinion on him? Aren't there already enough bored troublemakers in Gingalon Port? In my view, every last one of them will eventually pay the price for their stupidity and naivety." Kaba frowned slightly. "I've met him, and he’s far more insightful and adept at handling matters than you make him out to be." Niyan looked at Kaba, stunned, his expression filled with disbelief. "Are you serious?" Mengjie closed his newspaper, shaking his head with a mixture of amusement and frustration. He hadn't anticipated that within the "radical" group, there would be such internal differences. As he observed the two in their heated discussion, Mengjie found himself momentarily unsure whether he was standing to the left or the right. ... West Sails Port. In the command center of the Southern Legion's Boro Province war zone, General Gurillon stood in the meeting room, reporting the previous phase's combat situation to the Southern Legion’s General Staff. Since the strategic stalemate on the northern and eastern fronts, there hadn't been significant changes in the territories controlled by the warring parties. The only fluctuations were in the casualty figures in the reports and the mutual depletion of equipment. Overall, the Southern Legion managed to maintain a damage exchange ratio of approximately 1:3. This statistic might differ slightly from the reports from Boro and Mammoth, but not substantially. It's human nature to report accomplishments over setbacks, and Gurillon wasn't above the norm, emphasizing the casualty ratios and the bombardment impact on Celestial in his report. In summary, the Southern Legion held a substantial strategic advantage, alongside notable tactical benefits. With the deployment of large amounts of new equipment, their casualty rate notably decreased, and their response to the Alliance’s electromagnetic weapons was much less of a surprise than before. Everything was progressing positively. Though the broadcast incident at Evernight Port recently dampened some frontline soldiers' morale, timely information blocking and ready psychological preparations meant their confidence in winning this war remained unshaken. However, in the midst of Gurillon’s detailed, vivid recount of one frontline victory after another, the Chief of General Staff suddenly interrupted with a cough. "General Gurillon, do you know how many people are born daily in a province with over a billion survivors from the old era?" Gurillon hesitated, puzzled by the Chief's sudden question. Before he could answer, the holographic image suspended in front of the conference table continued. "At least ten thousand." "The poorer a place is, the higher the birth rate—I'm sure I don't need to remind you. And in Lion State alone, which we control, there are millions. Their reproductive and survival instincts are like cockroaches, and their actual numbers could vastly exceed our expectations." "So, don't emphasize to me how many you killed today or yesterday. If you extend the timeline, the numbers you report are negligible at best, merely reducing their average age." "In a prolonged attrition war, our enemies will grow younger and even more numerous, whereas we’ll expend our elite soldiers and commanders until they drag us down to the same level over time." Gurillon’s expression turned awkward. He was aware of this issue, but it was unavoidable. Since the failed grand offensive at Celestial, resulting in the loss of five airships and a retreat of hundreds of kilometers, his forces effectively lost the capability to advance further. Unless he completely disregards his troops' casualties or receives more airship reinforcements from headquarters. The former is detrimental to long-term warfare while the latter is unrealistic until the cause of the airship crashes is identified. Reluctantly, this was the reality— The war erupting in Boro Province was no longer something those mired in its quagmire could decide. The Southern Legion, to decisively win this war, might need to adopt more aggressive strategies, such as opening a second front on Alliance soil. Unfortunately, decisions of such grand strategy were beyond his input. These matters not only involved the contest between the Southern Legion and the Alliance but also between Avent and Triumph City. Seeing General Gurillon unable to utter a single word, the Chief of General Staff suddenly offered a light remark. "I have a basic understanding of the frontline situation. Just maintain the status quo on your end. Moreover, I have two pieces of news, which might be considered good news for you." General Gurillon immediately adopted a respectful demeanor. "Please, do tell!" The Chief of General Staff calmly stated, "First, our intelligence personnel have confirmed the true cause of the airship crashes—a suspected link to the gravitational well technology transferred to the Alliance by the Academy." Gurillon’s expression turned severe instantly. "The Academy… are they involved now?" This wasn’t welcome news to him. However, the Chief of General Staff seemed unfazed. The Academy’s schemes are unpredictable, but their ultimate goal remains clear. What the corporations have abandoned is their life’s pursuit. And preventing them is easier. Bringing down a complex starship within the atmosphere is far easier than launching one into space. Thus, while the Academy might be more proactive in regional affairs than corporations, their capabilities are limited. Transferring one or two technologies already pushes the limits of their support. Noting General Gurillon's concerned expression, the Chief of General Staff continued, "This isn’t the first time they’ve pulled strings from behind. Although it surprised us that those misers would transfer technology to the Alliance, there’s likely another deal behind this. "But it’s not the main focus. The main point is that we’ve cracked the secret of how they downed our airships. These gravitational wells require pre-deployment, effective in specific areas, and their energy consumption is enormous. In fact, shortly after using the gravitational well, Celestial’s 'Heavenly Palace' experienced a crash." "Perhaps they’ve set up other gravitational well devices, but these targets can be detected beforehand, whether by our drones or ground troops." At this, General Gurillon's face lit up with a hint of joy. "Does that mean… our airships can be reactivated?!" The Chief of General Staff nodded. "I'll dispatch a few more airships to the front lines, but I hope you utilize them more for logistical support. Our opponents aren’t the same as before, and airships aren’t the most effective against them." "I expect you to employ the new aircraft, infantry armor, lasers, and guided weapons being delivered to the fronts intelligently. Our enemies are no longer mere primitives. We must adapt to keep pace." "This isn’t just to win the immediate war but to prepare for opening a second or even third front on Alliance or corporate territory." Opening a second or even third front! General Gurillon’s face erupted with joy. This was undoubtedly the best news he’d heard all month! The only remaining challenge was that the Southern Legion lacked autonomous diplomatic authority. As of now, their war against Boro Province was conducted in the name of the Xilan Empire. How to unify other Vilant into supporting the Southern Legion seemed like the higher-ups already had plans. Once the entire legion rallied against a common Vilant enemy, the current slump would be utterly reversed! Watching General Gurillon’s elation, the Chief of General Staff chuckled softly, continuing, "A second piece of good news: we've received intelligence indicating that public opinion within the Alliance is shifting with the ongoing war. Clearly, their resources aren’t limitless, and the Academy's and corporations' support isn't enough to fully patch this gap. Once their sentiment swings rightward and they reduce support for the rebels in Boro Province, our chance will come." "That's the basic situation.... By the way, how is the dead medicine development progressing?" "The resident from the shelter named Martin tells me that he still needs some more time, and… he wants the genetic blueprints of the Vilant people. He claims it's to enhance friend-or-foe recognition. But that's located in Triumph City, and we don't have it ourselves. We can only resort to finding a few willing Vilants to cooperate with his experiments." Gurillon hesitated briefly before reporting Martin’s request. The Chief of General Staff furrowed his brow. "I'll figure something out." With that, the pale blue hologram particles dissolved from the room. Feeling a surge of relief, Gurillon wiped away the sweat from his forehead with his arm and looked around the now-empty meeting room with renewed vigor. The higher-ups were exploring the creation of a new battleground. If that succeeds, he wouldn’t have to shoulder everything alone anymore. Just then, there was a sudden knock on the conference room door. Composing the smile on his face, Gurillon adopted an imposing demeanor and coughed towards the door. "Enter." A military officer walked in, standing at attention and delivering a crisp salute before somberly reporting. "Sir! Our logistics unit stationed in Wolf Plains suffered an attack from the direction of Snake State! The enemy numbers are significant, approximately nine brigades strong, and they've dismantled most of our southern Wolf Plains stations and logistics hubs." "Under the circumstances, the local garrison was forced to regroup defensively to the north." Snake State? Gurillon narrowed his eyes and looked at the map hanging on the conference room wall. That was Shaluk’s territory, as well as the so-called domain of the logistics department, something he almost forgot about. "Casualties?" "Regular army suffered over nine hundred losses, while the auxiliary troops are close to three thousand!" The auxiliary forces had higher casualties, but at least the regular army’s losses weren't severe. Gurillon proceeded with his questions. "Who is the commanding officer on the opposing side?" The officer continued his report. "The leader is named Grove, a Wolf tribe member, suspected to be an old subordinate of Gopal from the Gray Wolf Army... However, there's been no action from the Gray Wolf Army headquarters. The staff suspects it's a test from Shaluk. If we don't retaliate strongly enough, they might assess our rear as vulnerable and seize the opportunity." "A test?" Gurillon chuckled coldly. "I see it as a stray dog biting against its owner." Those scoundrels in the logistics department. Previously, he'd turned a blind eye to their petty trades, acknowledging Shaluk’s 'discreet behavior', intending to address it after dealing with the Alliance. But it seems these people, fat with smuggling profits, yet again consider themselves untouchable. Well, they couldn't blame him for showing no mercy now. Facing away from the officer at the entrance, General Gurillon commanded sharply, "Inform Centurion Gibson that I am assigning him three brigades, one hundred thousand auxiliary troops, and an air squadron. Teach those blind folks a harsh lesson, push them back to the borders of Snake State, and bomb them until there’s nothing but silence! Civilian casualties are not a concern!" Centurion Gibson was previously an officer of the 34th Brigade under Ryan's command. Due to tactical errors, the 34th Brigade unfortunately ran into the elite forces of the Alliance, getting nearly wiped at Lion State by the Skeleton Corps and the 11th Brigade of Boro Country. Afterward, Gibson was benched, becoming a drunk at a bar in West Sails Port. Gurillon couldn’t bear to see him degenerate; he was once his own soldier. The timing was convenient as the 60th Armored Brigade had just completed riot control missions at Evernight Port. It was time for Gibson to lead those rookies south to train. Helping him regain his confidence and offering him a chance to redeem himself. The officer saluted crisply, acknowledging his orders. "Understood!" While the Alliance managed to halt a train, a massive offensive was quietly being set into motion. These seemingly unrelated events, separated by thousands of miles, shared subtler connections in the background. Switching back to the Alliance territory, in Weifu City... Although the delayed train resumed operations five hours post-incident, Chu Guang’s trip south was postponed by a full week. Partly to consider the possibility of copycat instances, and partly because Chu Guang preferred not to delve into the Alliance's internal radical-versus-conservative debates. Alliance citizens weren’t children—they should decide for themselves rather than calling for parental intervention or hiding behind him at the first sign of discontent. Instead of abruptly handing over everything to the Alliance and stepping away, Chu Guang preferred a gradual approach. As of now, he was slowly placing the brakes and throttle in their hands. Holding onto the steering wheel himself, he had no fear of the proverbial vehicle flipping over. Once his citizens and the players learned to control the speed, he’d gradually relinquish the wheel, much like how the first overseer of Vault 404 slowly transferred power to him. Chu Guang harbored a gut feeling that the unresolved mysteries of the B5 floor would only unravel post achieving this goal, with answers to all his pending questions arriving subsequently. Chu Guang remained confident about accomplishing this final task. No one is born knowing how to drive, but everything is learnable. After all, even he was somewhat thrust into management; not initially knowing how to build houses, his abilities weren't remarkable, nor was his magnanimity. He fondly recalled years earlier, watching players erect houses whilst worrying they might contrive obstructions blocking his "line of sight" and "routes," furtively scheming against them imposing a 'height restriction order.' Yet, as trust built, he gradually realized that his players held a genuine affection for this world—passionate as he, a newcomer, felt. Because of this, even several versions prior, he had trusted players with handling many matters, leading the wasteland’s indigenous toward a new era on his behalf. Once more, they demonstrated greater efficiency than manually orchestrating every detail himself. The Alliance could never follow PLANT Union’s footsteps, yearning to perfectly achieve all objectives in one sweeping stroke, mortgaging a future centuries hence for a utopian vision, then abandon a ravaged wasteland. Instead of focusing on abrupt highs and lows, he hoped for a sustainable path for his children. Of course, those were distant plans; the gravitational well wasn't due to activate until the end of the month. Presently, masquerading under holographic disguise in a small tavern in Kuntown, Chu Guang was playing a chaotic game of Kwen cards with a long-unseen old friend. Admittedly, it amazed Chu Guang how these chaotic rules gained popularity. Brother Mosquito truly was a marketing genius. By contrast, Mole’s straightforward game copies appeared static. Yet, one thing followed another—a terrible card player if he allowed himself to be intellectually outmaneuvered by a newcomer still familiarizing the rules. As Mosquito fumbled in thought for the next card, Chu Guang, cradling his cheek in his right hand, yawned languidly. "Hurry up, the flowers have wilted while you take your turn." Wiping sweat off his forehead, Mosquito held a pile of cards, smiling slyly, his covert guards among the crowd surreptitiously readying their holsters. "Heh, heh, you’ve got some skills, pushing this founding father to a dead end." Tickled by his words, Chu Guang chuckled. "Come off it, you made the bet; if you can't handle it, just fold." "Fold? You're celebrating too soon." Mosquito snickered again, slowly placing three hand cards onto the table like a villain. "Consider this fusion offered, sacrificing two cards to summon the Administrator... How will you respond?" Mosquito rarely pulled this legendary golden card, usually keeping it secret even if he got lucky. Perhaps because joking about an administrator among NPCs carried risks, offending those who couldn't take a joke. But seeing as he reciprocally got every reference Mosquito mentioned, even communicating in Mandarin—the notion dawned that they were both players. Among players, taking offense wasn’t a concern. Staring stupefied at the two eights showing atop attack and defense and heavily tossing his cards aside, Chu Guang exclaimed in disbelief. Damn! The legion printing his likeness on playing cards was one thing, now this rascal followed suit! Finally, understanding why fellow card enthusiasts distanced themselves from this "founder," Chu Guang realized why everyone steered clear of playing with this particular mischief-maker. "Alright, alright, if that's how you want to play." Seeing Mosquito's triumphant grin, Chu Guang raised his hand and tapped his ear twice. The holographic projection covering his face flickered, with ripples spreading out from his nose, revealing the true face hidden beneath the illusion. Meeting Chu Guang's amused gaze, Mosquito's smile froze instantly. It was as if he'd encountered a ghost while walking alone at night. "Adminis—Whoa, what the hell!?" While Mosquito shook with fear, anticipating divine retribution, Chu Guang did not kick him offline. Instead, he merely picked up the card of "himself riding Neko" from the table. The faint blue ripples converged back to the tip of his nose, and Chu Guang returned to his unremarkable disguise. "The Administrator watches over you. Be good and do kind deeds; don't count on luck." Mosquito nodded fervently, right fist speedily pressed against his chest, almost standing at attention. "Understood!" Waving the card in his hand, Chu Guang slipped it into his pocket and tossed a few hundred-yuan bills on the table. "I won't charge you for likeness rights, but I'm buying this card. Don't use it anymore." Looking at the sole golden-legendary card, Mosquito nodded with a pained expression. "Damn... Ahem! I mean, yes, sir." To be continued.