This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 123: Punitive War

Chapter 123: Chapter 123: Punitive War

"Work’s here, work’s here!"

"Another fight? Awesome, it’s been so long since we’ve had a good scrap!"

"Damn! Why only 50 people? Are you all that quick on the draw?"

"Hesitate, and you lose!"

"Can I hang around without a mission? I’m broke, but I just want to watch the storyline unfold!"

"Front row offering Goblin Rocket Launchers for sale! Selling at a loss, big clearance, 5 silver coins each! You can’t get fooled if you don’t buy, you can’t regret if you don’t overpay!"

"I’ll take one, put it on my tab!"

"Get lost!"

At the western gate of Outpost Base.

A huge crowd of players, clutching their weapons and ammo, ran to the open space in front of the trenches to gather.

The bustling scene didn’t quite seem like they were headed into battle; instead, it felt like a festival.

Especially a particular mischievous little player, who rented a covered cart from the warehouse, loading it with cannon barrels, mounts, and shells all in one go.

He even hired a Strength Type novice to help pull the cart.

"Boss! Can, can I fire the cannon just once?"

Upon hearing this, Mosquito immediately burst into laughter, chuckling as he patted the kid on the shoulder.

"Of course! Good brother! Just follow my orders later, and you light the fuse!"

"Yes, sir!!!"

Such commotion was visible to anyone with eyes.

Nomads returning from the lake with water looked over in surprise, exchanging glances and chattering among themselves.

"What are they about to do?"

"Is it a battle?"

"They all have guns in their hands!"

"Who are they going to fight? Looters? Or Variants?"

Holding two plastic buckets full of water, the sisters Autumn Grass and Autumn Leaf curiously watched Manager Chu Guang walk out from the western gate.

Both of their gazes inevitably landed on the impressive hammer on his back.

"That’s huge..."

"That hammer must weigh dozens of kilos, right?"

"The armor looks heavy too, is it made of steel?"

"And he doesn’t seem tired at all!"

"It’s not polite to stare at someone continuously like that."

"Uh, alright... wait! Why only mention Autumn Leaf? You were staring too, weren’t you, sis?"

Autumn Grass retorted, her face flushed.

"No, it’s not polite."

More and more curious nomads, drawn by the noise, gathered at a safe distance to observe the soldiers in front of the trenches, wondering what had happened.

Was there a war brewing?

People died in wars, didn’t they?

But why did these soldiers look so excited?

Could it be they were not afraid of death at all?

A sense of awe rose in the hearts of many nomads; the morale of the Blue Jackets surpassed even the impressiveness of their weapons!

As the clanspeople busily discussed, Clan Leader Iron Axe, followed by a few hunters carrying bows and javelins, emerged from the crowd.

Approaching Manager Chu Guang, Iron Axe clasped his hands in respect and said,

"Sir, the men behind me are the elite of our clan. Just give the word, and we will be your sharpest spear!"

Chu Guang glanced at him, originally intending to turn down the offer politely.

But then, something stirred in Chu Guang’s heart, and changing his mind at the last moment, he nodded.

"Stay by my side in a while."

"Yes, sir."

Signaling Yu Hu and Iron Axe to wait there, Chu Guang stepped in front of the players. Under the gaze of numerous expectant eyes, he began to recite the speech he had come up with in ten minutes.

"For too long, the people of Bet Street have endured the oppression of the mayor, struggling to survive under his rule mired in hunger and poverty. The wealth he extorts all ends up in his own pocket, fulfilling nothing but his selfish desires."

"His crimes are beyond description. And now, not only has he set his sights on us, but he has also crossed our line of tolerance, secretly colluding with our mortal enemies, the Blood Hand Clan, to form a secret alliance. He even incited them to wage aggression against us!"

"Justice may be delayed, but it will never be absent," he declared. "Now is the time to let that insatiable Old Leech know what happens when they provoke us."

"Everyone, follow me to battle!"

On the open space in front of the trenches, a thunderous roar of excitement nearly deafened the listeners.

"Free Bet Street!"

"For Little Fish!"

"Rawr!!"

...

Bet Street.

Central Castle.

The study door on the top floor burst open, and a guard clad in a deerskin jacket rushed in, frantically crossing a long row of bookshelves to reach the Manager.

"Sir! A large group is approaching from the north! There are, there are more than fifty of them!"

"How many?!"

The Manager’s face suddenly changed, and he immediately rose, dashing out the study and hurried down the corridor towards the tower, ascending to the highest point of the castle.

The north wind howled atop the high tower.

Without a coat, the cold air made him shiver uncontrollably, but he ignored the chill, snatching up a telescope hanging nearby and peering towards the north.

He saw a group dressed in fur coats, carrying long and short weapons, looking even more like Looters than actual Looters as they marched determinedly in the direction of Bet Street.

Amidst the howling winds, the old Manager’s forehead somehow beaded with sweat.

He whirled around, grabbed the guard, who had chased after him up to the top of the tower, and bellowed so forcefully that saliva flew.

"Quick, gather all the guards and grab their weapons to the north gate!"

"And, send someone to find Charlie and have him rally the hunters of Bet Street! All men over 14—gather at the armory’s entrance!"

"Now, go!"

The guard shook with the Manager’s roar, nodding repeatedly.

"Yes, yes!"

The castle’s alarm bells rang out desperately, shattering the serenity of Bet Street.

The survivors standing in the streets had no idea what had happened; they thought the Looters had arrived. They rushed home, frantically packing their things to flee, panicked and confused.

But Old Charlie, hearing the urgent ringing, felt not a trace of panic—instead, he sighed with relief, feeling as though a weight had dropped from his heart.

If a foolish act was inevitable, all he could do was hasten its arrival.

For example, before a brainless Manager could commit an even more egregious folly, better to light the gunpowder keg early and spare some innocent souls from the repercussions.

Without fail, they would soon send for him, asking him to rally the hunters of Bet Street to stand defiant on the walls against those in Blue Jackets.

He drew the curtain over his grocery shop and casually picked up his cane, slipping into the chaos of the frantic crowd.

Meanwhile, the armory door on one side of the castle swung open.

The guards, donned in deerskin coats, took the iron-barreled rifles and ammunition handed to them by their captain, then hurried towards the north gate to take cover and prepare for conflict.

However, the makeshift barrier of outdated metal scraps and concrete debris offered little reassurance.

Besides a few wrinkled old soldiers, many young guards showed fear and apprehension on their faces, their hands trembling as they gripped their weapons.

Forced to deal with powerhouses like the Blood Hand Clan, who collected their protection money and stayed away, they were usually up against Variants, with the most dangerous enemies being a few Mutant Brown Bears. Only in rare cases did they encounter foolish Looters attempting to extort them, whose combat strength was so lacking they often did not even possess a decent weapon and were no match for the town’s hunters.

Such a scenario was a first for many of the younger guards!

Old Walter, holding a hunting gun, scanned his fellow guards with an air of gravity on his features.

Including himself, they had mustered only 11 men, half of whom were the Manager’s private doormen, who might not have fired 30 rounds between them all year.

The guard captain beside him yelled at his subordinates.

"Where are they? Is this all we have? What about the town’s hunters? Give them the guns and scatter them in the surrounding buildings!"

One of the younger guards, clutching his rifle nervously, replied.

"Old Charlie went to rouse them... They should be here soon."

"There’s no time," Old Walter said, peering past the cover. "They’ve already arrived."

The snow-covered streets.

A group of soldiers, each draped in fur coats and carrying long and short guns, led by a man in heavy armor, took to the ends of the streets, spreading out behind the various barriers.

The two sides were separated by two hundred meters, already within striking distance!

Yet, no one moved; they simply stood in tense standoff.

Just when the tension seemed palpable, Walter’s brow suddenly furrowed—he saw a dark cannon barrel being pushed out from the street corner!

They had artillery too?!

The cannon barrel was about as long as a leg, probably cast, with incredibly thick walls, and the dark muzzle emitted a chilling light.

Although it looked crude, no one dared to underestimate its power.

The guard captain beside it swallowed, finally losing his patience, and shouted loudly across,

"What are you people? What are you doing here!"

Nonsense...

Does such a foolish question even need to be asked?

Old Walter complained in his heart as he silently loaded his hunting gun and stretched the barrel out, aiming at the opposite side.

However, at that moment, his pupils suddenly constricted.

He saw a man in a beast skin jacket raise his hands to show he was unarmed, stand up from behind the cover, and walk out.

Old Walter squinted his eyes.

Having watched the gate for dozens of years, he almost recognized every face on the street.

Clearly, it wasn’t just him who recognized the man’s identity – a few of the young guards recognized him as well and began whispering to each other.

"Zhao Shu?"

"It seems... it really is him!"

"Hiss... wasn’t he dead? I saw his family held a funeral for him."

"I remember! It happened last month, right? Supposedly he went up north to hunt deer and ran into people from the Blood Hand Clan... Yang Ergou from the Yang family was caught with him."

"Yang Ergou?"

"Yes, yes, exactly that guy!"

As the guards discussed this, Zhao Shu, who had walked twenty meters forward, stopped in his tracks and shouted loudly,

"My fellow villagers, I am Zhao Shu! I’ve come to help you!"

"Help us?"

The Guard Captain, behind the cover, sneered coldly and yelled at Zhao Shu standing in the snow, "Your kind of help is this?"

Seeing the Guard Captain, a fear instinctively arose in Zhao Shu.

But remembering the dozens of soldiers backing him and the words the Manager had said to him earlier, the flame rekindled in his eyes, and he straightened his back.

Addressing his fellow townspeople behind the cover, he raised his volume and spoke loudly.

"A month ago, Yang Ergou from the Yang family and I went up north to hunt deer and unfortunately were captured by the Blood Hand Clan looters and thrown into their dungeon. Just when I thought I was done for, it was our neighbors... the people behind me, who rescued me from the dungeon of the looters."

The guards behind the cover stirred, and expressions of surprise appeared on their faces.

Rescued from the looters’ dungeon?

Does that mean the Blood Hand Clan has been taken down?!

Zhao Shu didn’t stop talking.

"Not only did they provide me with food, clothes, and fuel, they also arranged work and housing for me, freeing me from hunger and cold. They didn’t just accept me, but all the other captives who were rescued as well. I’m not saying this for any other reason than to let you all know, they are not our enemies—"

"Utter nonsense!" the Guard Captain cursed loudly, "You ungrateful cur! Just because strangers throw you a couple of bones, you wag your tail and beg for their mercy, willing to be their dog, even turning your fangs on your own people! Where is your conscience?"

Zhao Shu grew angry and roared back.

"Conscience? You dare to talk about conscience? Tell me loudly, who is the real ungrateful cur? We scavenge, we hunt, we trade our lives for chips, and what do we get? We pay tribute to him every year, endure his exploitation, buy the garbage he picks leftovers from, and get shat on by those looters outside!"

"Tell me, where was he when I was thrown into the dungeon by the looters? He never protected anyone, he only ever had eyes for himself, and when we needed him, he couldn’t even step out of his own castle!"

"From the start, that vampire living in the castle was no different from the Blood Hand Clan! With the fruits of our labor, he honors those looters, even helping those villains suck our blood dry! You think I’m joking? Just yesterday, that vampire wrote a letter and sent it to the Blood Hand Clan, trying to incite those villains to raid our neighbors!"

As he spoke, Zhao Shu took a letter out of his chest pocket and held it up high.

"Do you want me to read it to you?"

Old Walter’s eyes widened upon hearing this.

The faces of the young guards nearby also showed astonishment.

The old mayor is in cahoots with the Blood Hand Clan’s people?

Is that true?!

Watching the shaken looks of the guards around him, sweat began to bead on the Guard Captain’s brow.

His first instinct was that such incendiary talk couldn’t have been conjured up by this illiterate bumpkin.

Someone must have taught him!

If this man was allowed to continue speaking, the battle would be lost without even fighting.

As a direct descendant of the mayor and an existing beneficiary, right or wrong, the Guard Captain’s stance meant he had to side with the mayor.

Moreover, the situation wasn’t that dire – although there were dozens of people on the other side, there were hundreds of survivors in Bet Street.

Now that the armory was open, as long as Old Charlie could rally the town’s survivors, the fight might not necessarily be lost!

Making a quick judgment, and looking at Zhao Shu, who had started to read the letter aloud, the Guard Captain yelled out.

"Fire!"

However, no gunshots rang out; no one heeded his command.

Listening to the nearly sycophantic and pleasing content of that letter, not just the young guards, even Old Walter fell silent, staring at the hunting gun in his hands for a long time without a word.

The captain of the guards clenched his teeth, his eyes spewing fury.

He waited no longer, grabbing the rifle in his hands, he aimed at the hick who stood over 150 meters away, pretending to read the letter, and pulled the trigger.

Snap!

Woosh—

The first bullet grazed Zhao Mouse’s face as it flew past, hitting the snowdrift behind him, scaring him into immediately diving aside, taking cover behind a car wreck buried in the snow.

Old Walter’s face changed, looking at the captain of the guards who was still pulling the bolt to shoot again, he exclaimed in horror.

"Have you gone mad?"

The captain of the guards glared at him fiercely, then glared at the guards cowering behind cover.

"Why should I be polite with Looters! If you don’t want to die, start shooting!"

Across the street, witnessing the bullet mark landing not far from them, the players were not the least bit panicked; on the contrary, they were riled up with excitement.

"Boss! They’re firing at us!"

"No more talking rubbish with them, let’s do this!"

"Charge them!"

Though things didn’t go as planned, considering the enemy had already opened fire.

Chu Guang didn’t hesitate any longer, looking at Mosquito not too far away, he waved his right hand in a forward motion under his expectant gaze.

"Fire!"

"Roger that!" Hearing the order to fire, Mosquito gave an excited glance to the newbie stationed at the cannon and yelled, "Waste them!"

The firing details were already set, and that Strength Type newbie immediately lit the cannon’s fuse and then covered his ears.

Boom—!

Flames and smoke erupted, the cannonball drew a parabolic trajectory in the sky like a thunderbolt, and smashed into the north gate of Bet Street.

"Boom!"

With thick smoke and dispersed fireworks, the wooden gate, as if struck by lightning, exploded with a thunderous crash!

The captain of the guards who had been shooting from behind cover was so shocked that he instantly shrank back into hiding.

At that moment, a whistle echoed from a distance down the street, followed by deafening shouts and yells that surged towards the defensive position like tumultuous waves.

"Fire! Everyone shoot!"

He yelled furiously, commanding the guards around him to retaliate, but no one paid him any heed.

The already low morale was shattered by the cannon blast. Hearing the piercing whistle and shouts of attack, to not drop their cover and run was already brave enough, let alone poke their heads out to shoot.

Seeing the other guards scared stiff, Old Walter couldn’t help but recall an incident from long ago.

A long, long time ago, when he was still young, Bet Street once fell prey to a raid from the Blood Hand Clan.

At the time, there were 12 guards; 11 of them were decimated, leaving only two survivors.

What good did it do to rally the town’s Hunters?

These were the ruthless people who had flattened the very stronghold of the Blood Hand Clan, flattening them was probably just a matter of a charge.

Moreover...

Old Walter had just recognized the man giving the orders to attack as Blue Jacket, who had spent some time in Bet Street before, and then became untraceable.

If these people were from the shelter, they might not necessarily be harsh on these pitiful folks.

"Surrender... since reinforcements haven’t arrived by now, they’re probably not going to come. There are only 11 of us here; we can’t possibly be their match."

Old Walter put down his gun.

Looking at the captain of the guards turning his gun barrel towards him, he sighed and said.

"Why bother? With no casualties on both sides yet, they might not be too bad with prisoners of war."

The face of the captain of the guards turned deathly pale, his fingers trembling.

"Don’t push me."

Old Walter reached out and held his gun barrel, not moving, gazing seriously at him.

"If you’re determined to fight, then shoot."

"Many people will die today; leading the way might not be so bad."

Watching the captain of the guards’ expression change from fierce to stiff, and from stiff to despairing, Old Walter breathed a sigh of relief, slowly lifting the rifle from his shaking hands.

"Thank you. You’ve given all of us a chance to live."

The captain of the guards’ face was pallid, squeezing out a feeble, powerless smile.

"Hope."