Chapter 918 - This Game Is Too Realistic

**Chapter 918: The Source of Conflict** After the agreement was reached, the group temporarily moved back to the side of their convoy. Wyatt, the Centurion, wore an expression of absolute confidence, as his bodyguard and deputy, Aug, spoke to him in a low voice. "Are you sure we can count on these guys?" Detecting the concern in Aug's tone, Wyatt smiled faintly, seemingly undisturbed. "If we waited for a hundred percent certainty before taking action, we'd never accomplish anything." Aug replied softly, "I'm just worried these guys might betray us." Wyatt chuckled. "That's the least of my worries. They won't." Aug cast a surprised look at him. "You trust a bunch of marauders?" "Not at all. If these scoundrels had any sense of honor, they wouldn't be fighting rats and cockroaches for scraps," Wyatt said, pulling out a wet wipe to clean his hands before carelessly tossing it onto the road. "But in this situation, they have no other choice." ... Following the agreement, Wyatt and his group set up camp in Rock City and arranged for surgery for the leader of the cannibal tribe, Claw. The surgery went very smoothly. Their prosthetic doctor not only installed retractable titanium alloy blades and a radial on Claw but also enhanced the motor and neural components in his leg tendons. Claw was quite satisfied with this gesture of goodwill, and the other marauder tribes in Rock City, driven by envy, eagerly approached Wyatt seeking cooperation, fearing they'd miss out on the benefits if they hesitated. Wyatt was particularly generous with those willing to collaborate, keeping the few operating tables they had busy around the clock. The expensive prosthetics were more a demonstration of the legion's sincerity and a means to win over the marauder chiefs. The real boost to the marauder's combat strength came from items like exoskeletons, assault rifles, and anti-tank rocket launchers, procured from Free State. Lacking a permanent outpost in the Far East, the Southern Legion even bought surgical tables for implant operations from Free State, paid for with silver coins. Those folks were willing to sell anything—even weapons that could be used against themselves—for the right price. However, as far as Wyatt was concerned, they weren't particularly clever. What else would the legion do with these weapons if not use them against their "old friends" in Dawn City to the south? At least from Wyatt's viewpoint, if the "Guillotine" operation succeeded, regardless of whether the "Tsunami" plan went as smoothly as expected or not, the union would inevitably disintegrate. And with the collapse of the union, its currency would soon become worthless paper. Then they'd be left holding heaps of silver coins, with nowhere to cry. While the surgeries were underway, truckloads of weaponry were being transported to the vicinity of Rock City, where the marauder tribes in the city came to collect their loot. Thus, the Southern Legion managed to muster a ragtag group of heavily armed marauders on the eastern edge of the union. And with their new gear, these marauders were eager to get started. However, not everyone felt confident about the impending war. For instance, among Claw's lieutenants, there were significant doubts about whether joining forces with the legion was a wise move. It's worth noting that the cannibal tribe was just a thousand-strong marauder band. Though Claw called himself a Centurion, he didn't command that many, and his lieutenants certainly didn't each lead a thousand men. Such situations were typical in the wasteland, where some tribes had leaders styled as Decurions or Centurions, yet their numbers told a different story. In fact, the only marauder tribes capable of fielding actual legions of thousands were the larger clans of the Gnawbone tribe. These groups had grown with the legion's backing, swelling their ranks through southern raids. Yet, even with tens of thousands of fighters, the Gnawbone tribe ultimately fell to the union. This was precisely the concern for Claw's lieutenants. With the Gnawbone tribe's defeat as a cautionary tale, they found it hard to imagine a victorious outcome for themselves. Not to mention, compared to the Gnawbone tribe, their strength might be slightly lacking. Inside the discussion tent. Watching Claw step through the curtain, a burly Centurion addressed him with a raspy voice. "Boss, are we really going to ally with those guys? That legion, or whatever?" His name was One-Eye, formerly a wastelander from Galloping Horse Province. Once a caravan guard, he turned to a life of banditry after plotting with marauders against his employer's goods—eventually leaving civilization behind. As survivors from Galloping Horse Province migrated to union settlements, the easy targets became scarcer. One-Eye followed the migrating survivors to the Edge Sea Province and eventually settled in Rock City, joining the cannibal tribe. The story behind his nickname, "One-Eye," is an epic tale that could fill thousands of words. The legion had fitted him with a mechanical eye, restoring vision to his right eye, and adding functions like zoom, focus, and ballistic computation. However, unlike other marauders intoxicated with the legion's favors, One-Eye wasn't swayed by their gifts, nor did he place much faith in those Wei Lante people's plans. Crushing the union wouldn't benefit them. The civilized folks were like the source of a river—they bandits always needed a river to fish sustainably. Furthermore, from a strategic standpoint, confronting the union head-on didn't seem wise. If the legion was as omnipotent as they claimed, why wouldn't they crush the union themselves instead of hiring mercenaries for the job? Not giving much heed to One-Eye's hesitant gaze, Claw calmly replied, "And what alternative do we have?" Speaking more quietly, One-Eye said, "I've heard their reputation isn't great... North, in the River Valley Province, some fools listened to them and ended up crushed to pieces." "I'm certain the rewards promised to them weren't any less than what they've promised us." The people in the tent exchanged glances, the initially excited faces now shadowed with hesitation. They knew who One-Eye referred to—the legendary marauders, the Gnawbone tribe, which had swept through half of the River Valley Province. Whispers spread among them. "... This deal sounds risky." "The weapons are already ours. We don't have to stick our necks out, right?" "Exactly! We've done our share of double-crossing before..." "Selling them out to the union isn't a bad idea either. With a mercenary guise, the union wouldn't know what we've been up to!" Looking at the murmuring crowd, Claw sneered silently, opting not to join their discussions. He was well aware that a direct confrontation with the union wasn't wise. But equally, he knew he had no choice, having already embarked on this path. "We have no choice." When the boss spoke, the chattering marauders instantly fell silent. Facing their anxious or fierce expressions, Claw raised his voice, continuing his speech with an edge of hatred. "For us, this isn't just about a deal. It's about our survival on this wasteland!" "Think back to why you're here!" "The sheep from Galloping Horse Province have all fled. First it was a few survivors moving their homes, eventually entire settlements migrated. Without those settlements, slave farms couldn't operate. They're either moving or preparing to move!" "It's not just the survivor settlements, either. Even the East Coast trade caravans have shifted to sea routes!" "Think carefully about why you came here!" Confronted with speechless marauder leaders, Claw increased his volume, infusing his words with a poisonous hint of enmity. "If we do nothing, those self-proclaimed civilized ones will keep amassing strength. They'll fortify their borders, locking us out of civilization, leaving us to rot with the mutants!" "Listen to what they're saying! They plan to obliterate more than a few marauder tribes—they intend to end the wasteland era entirely! Usher in a new era without us!" "You think this is a choice? No, there is no choice—not for any of us! Our only route to survival is to destroy them, carve their flesh into mincemeat, and boil their bones into soup!" "Only after their downfall will countless survivor settlements emerge anew from the wasteland! Everything will return to how it once was, and we will become the most feared presence across these lands once more!" "For our future, they must perish!!!" As Claw's voice rose to a fevered pitch, his shout echoed furiously, reverberating in the tent and leaving One-Eye and the other cannibal tribe leaders momentarily stunned. It dawned on everyone, including One-Eye, that this venture wasn't merely a transaction. It was their only chance for survival. If they allowed the union's order to keep expanding, they'd eventually lose all space to live! "Let's take it to those union curs!" "Grind them to dust!" "Raaah!" The group within the tent erupted in spirited battle cries. Whistles pierced the air, spittle flew, and the gleam of ferocity burned in their eyes. Seeing the battle fervor igniting in their hearts, a satisfied smile crept onto Claw's face. This was exactly the effect he desired. That man named Chu Guang must die! His hatred for him had been festering for quite some time, despite Chu Guang probably not even recognizing him. Now, with the enemies of the union knocking at their door, Claw finally saw a glimmer of hope for his dreams to come true. With his own two lethal claws, he intended to personally tear that man's heart out! ... While the motley crew of wretches howled, two "Viper" transport aircraft, trailing plasma streams, landed on the tarmac outside Outpost 10. As the transport touched down, Chu Guang glanced over the settlement from above, taking in its entirety. Compared to Outpost 1, which boasted over a hundred thousand inhabitants, this settlement with fewer than two thousand souls looked much like an inconspicuous fishing village. Encircled by a two-person-high wall, a collection of single-story houses of varying heights lined several straight main roads. Judging by their eclectic designs, it's likely these were built by the locals rather than professional architects. Down by the seaside streets, many houses had racks for drying fish hanging by their doors. Fishing was the primary source of income here, with scavenging and farming following closely behind. Local trade activities centered around a marketplace near the northern highway, home to many local shops. A number of trucks servicing the area frequently hailed from Outpost 1. According to the data provided by Xiao Qi, half the population of survivors here were soldiers from the Southern Construction Corps, while the rest were mostly survivors relocated from Galloping Horse Province. Other than the ubiquitous players, barely any survivors from Dawn City or Light City chose to reside here. This wasn't surprising. The population attraction effect of developed regions over less developed ones held true everywhere. And on the wasteland, developed meant not just prosperity but safety as well. Even survivors from the east preferred to go the extra mile to the job-rich and populous Outpost 1, rather than settle in a less developed area. There's no question for the survivors from the South Sea Alliance—compared to the Death Coast, Fry Port in the Baimi Strait was their "spiritual home." Nevertheless, it was heartening that even though this might be the most undeveloped area under the union's care, roads, power lines, and signal towers had still been established here. Along the rocky coast stood two concrete piers. Though container ships didn't dock here, many local residents' fishing and salvaging boats—purchased via loans from the union's banks—were moored nearby. Most adults were out working at this time, while children were attending the settlement's only school. Even though Chu Guang felt the area's development left much to be desired, the locals seemed quite content with their lives here, as evidenced by their work ethic and the busy pier. After all, on the wasteland beyond the wall, it wasn't just about a good life—even survival was a luxury. Marauders constantly harassed them, demanding protection fees and often taking what they liked despite timely offerings. Even with nearby survivor settlements like Boulder City, one couldn't expect their banks to offer loans for improving livelihoods. Boulder City's nutrient paste vendor, Vijia, settlement operator Sid, and the Bloodhand clan to Brown Farm were unspoken allies, profiting together. Even Bates Street's "Old Leech" and the traveling merchant Lester before choosing to go straight were in the same leech press, merely in different "ecological niches." However, with the union now emerging victorious, they were spreading their new order across the wasteland. This tactic of cutting the roots seemed effective for now. Most of the wastelanders, having experienced the benefits of order, weren't keen on returning to the wasteland. Even if they someday made their way back home, they'd bring back ideals and visions of a new era. After the plane landed, Chu Guang met with the high-ranking officials of the local authority on the tarmac. Included were the militia captain of Outpost 10, the division leader of the Construction Corps, the security bureau chief, the mayor, and the five elected local representatives. Since he'd come all this way, Chu Guang shook everyone's hand, exchanged some pleasantries, then switched to a critical tone. "...There's no need for this formality. The thing I dread most is this. Li Jinrong is a different matter—Wei Fu city doesn't rely on the Southern Construction Corps anymore, so he has time to spare. But you all clearly have plenty of work to do. Why would you even think about reporting anything to me?" "Get back to what you should be doing," he added. "If necessary, I'll reach out to you." The mayor, taken aback by the dismissal, smiled wryly and explained, "We were concerned that something might not have been done right and that we'd let you down." Chu Guang replied, "Then you shouldn't be looking for me. Instead, you should be walking around the docks, seeing if there's anything inconvenient for our union citizens and future citizens, or asking them for ideas about Outpost 10's future. Their expectations are my expectations. Asking for my opinion is a waste of time better spent on them." The mayor immediately responded, "I'll go to the docks right away." Chu Guang: "..." Watching the reluctant group disperse, Chu Guang sighed inwardly. These former members of the Southern Construction Corps sometimes adhered too rigidly to hierarchical structures, even as they've transitioned to new roles. It's tricky to assess whether this is advantageous or not—it brings short-term benefits and drawbacks, though long-term the issues likely outweigh the benefits. Yet, despite this, it's reassuring that these settlements still see young people with innovative ideas emerge, even if they don't align entirely with his own. At this thought, Chu Guang felt the urge to have a conversation with the recently prominent representative Gu Ning. Of course, that would have to wait until he dealt with the current troubles. After wrapping up his meetings with the "NPCs," Chu Guang spotted Brother Springwater in disguise not far from the tarmac. Meeting with players was much more relaxing. Although he maintained a façade of faction leader authority for immersion's sake, inwardly, he was completely at ease—a time for candid talk without sugarcoating. Taking Springwater aside, Chu Guang spoke candidly. "According to the intelligence we purchased from Free State's informants, weapons sold by their arms dealers to a mysterious buyer have recently entered Edge Sea Province. It's almost certain that this buyer is the Southern Legion's General Staff. "We've identified two key figures: a Centurion named Wyatt, part of the Southern Legion's General Staff, and Kondra, a former commander of the Eastern Legion's 14th Army, who seems to have sided with the Southern Legion now. We have intelligence that Kondra was the one who supplied weapons to the Gnawbone tribe." At the mention of the name Kondra, Commander Springwater was momentarily taken aback, instinctively blurting out, "Damn." That name was a blast from the past dating back to the alpha version. He'd nearly forgotten about it. Seeing that the administrator paused, Springwater cleared his throat before adding, "Sorry, I was just a bit surprised. Please continue." "No worries," Chu Guang nodded before continuing, "So, that's the gist of it. According to our intelligence, the Southern Legion is planning to orchestrate an attack against me personally, with the main assailants being marauders currently in the vicinity." "What the—an attack on you?! How dare they?!" Springwater was once again astounded, finding it hard to believe. It wasn't that such a thing was impossible; rather, the success rate of pulling this off in the union's territory seemed really low. Chu Guang concisely stated, "Given the circumstances, this is their most effective decision from their perspective. Our intelligence estimates the assault could involve two to three thousand people, and we cannot rule out the possibility of them using weapons of mass destruction. Therefore, I plan to set the battleground outside the settlement." Hearing the mention of weapons of mass destruction, Springwater's expression turned grave. "Do you have a specific plan?" he asked. Chu Guang smiled faintly, "The plan is simple. Since I'm their target, I'll deliberately offer a vulnerability." Seeing the shocked look on Springwater's face, Chu Guang paused briefly before continuing, "I intend to use this opportunity to squeeze out the festering threat clustered in this area. While it's unrealistic to expect one or two battles to eradicate the marauders in the northeastern part of Edge Sea Province, using overwhelming force to intimidate them serves well." After all, since the threat was coming anyway, he might as well use the Southern Legion's scheme to his advantage. The notion of "killing two birds with one stone" was something Chu Guang, as a master strategist, was very familiar with. Yet, upon hearing Chu Guang's plan, Commander Springwater wore a troubled look. After a moment of hesitation, he cautiously said, "Uh, though you might have already accounted for unexpected variables, there's always the chance things could go off-script... Ahem, what I mean is, there might be unforeseen variables in the plan. In short, I wouldn't recommend you personally acting as bait—the risk is too high." There was no helping it. After all, Chu Guang was the "True Springwater" himself, so to speak. The developers had emphasized more than once that if the administrator died, the server would reset. Were it not for the fact that Chu Guang was also a privileged entity, Springwater would've been tempted to suggest on the forums that they lock him in a cryochamber in the shelter. It'd not only mitigate safety risks but might even extend his lifespan. Tsk. Now that I think about it, I'm really quite considerate. Looking at Brother Springwater, filled with sincere loyalty, Chu Guang's gaze turned peculiar, finally uttering, "When did I ever say I'd personally be the bait?" Before Springwater could respond, he continued, "When the time comes, I'll lend you that azure power armor. If they really do bring out a tactical nuke, just take one for the team." Commander Springwater: "...#@" Damn it! That was rash! To be continued...