This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 318: This Game Company’s Business is Too Extensive!

Chapter 318: Chapter 318: This Game Company’s Business is Too Extensive!

"Fuck... Have these bastards gone mad?"

In a half-collapsed residential building.

Standing in an open-top bathroom missing its ceiling, Night Ten, holding binoculars, gaped in disbelief at the street three hundred meters away.

It was five in the morning, the sun had not yet risen, but there was already a hint of light in the sky.

He saw about fifty Looters huddled close to a truck welded with steel plates, on top of which was mounted—not one but exactly four machine guns!

It seemed that the 12mm heavy machine guns weren’t enough, so the Looters from the Ya Clan had strung together lighter machine guns as well, using wire, steel rods, and screws.

This reminded Night Ten of the quad-mounted Maxims he had once seen in the movies; the two seemed eerily similar in design.

The only difference was one used water cooling, the other a slightly more advanced air cooling.

However, intuition told Night Ten that these Looters probably didn’t learn this from films but copied the Skeleton Corps’ quad-mounted anti-aircraft weapons.

"7mm machine guns for anti-aircraft... What a ’brilliant’ idea," Fang Chang couldn’t help but scoff.

Sitting beside him, munching on a flatbread, Old White chuckled and said,

"Don’t you joke, if these things have enough ammo, the density of their fire might actually be terrifying. For a wooden plane like Mosquito Brother’s, it would take less than half a second to be brought down from the sky."

Wild Wind touched the bridge of his nose and said,

"...Speaking of which, we probably really hurt them that night."

As the patrol disappeared around the street corner, Night Ten, who had put down his binoculars, sighed and said,

"That’s true, but now that they’re all banding together, it’s a bit of a problem."

The Game’s AI was incredibly clever.

Not only did it reap the players like leeks, but it also adjusted the AI’s strategies in real-time based on the players’ actions. The Looters, who used to just stare dumbly at planes, had now managed to DIY their own anti-aircraft weapons.

What’s that called again?

Right!

Machine learning!

Truly, as the world’s only fully immersive virtual reality online game, the AI technology was incredibly powerful, no doubt about it.

While eating his bread, Old White said calmly,

"No rush; the Ya Clan is currently redeploying troops to the front line. We just need to keep an eye on their tanks."

At present, the Burning Corps had spread out into the urban areas, and their four-person squads were still a bit strained to confront the Looters’ hundred-man teams head-on.

But that was okay.

They could call in air strikes.

Normally the Looters’ tanks hid in underground garages, but now they were all transferring to the front lines. They didn’t need to go in and face the tanks directly; as long as they could lock onto a rough location of the tanks, the players flying planes would naturally give them a surprise.

In just a week, the Burning Corps had already called in air strikes that took out four Conqueror No. 10 tanks, and though one wasn’t completely destroyed, it was still paralyzed.

Without logistical support, given the Barbarians’ limited skills, they might manage to fix a track, but a damaged engine or fuel pipe was practically as good as scrapped.

"It looks like there won’t be any tanks passing by this street today," Fang Chang said, glancing at the time on his VM. The dawn was already showing a touch of daybreak on the horizon.

Old White tossed the wrapping from his bread and rose to his feet with his rifle from the floor.

"Let’s find a safe spot to log off."

As they were speaking, a light creak suddenly came from downstairs.

The four of them immediately became alert.

Old White swiftly moved to the entrance of the living room, poking out half his body to cover the stairs. Wild Wind then released the "Firefly" drone, which sailed through the broken ceilings, descending outside the residential building.

Night Ten said in a low voice, "I didn’t sense any killing intent... The other party probably hasn’t spotted us, or they’re unsure of our exact location."

"Searching..." Wild Wind, who was operating the drone, suddenly paused, stunned.

There, in the window below, was a boy with a youthful, dirt-smudged face, hard to distinguish by gender. Wild Wind could only guess that he wasn’t very old; even considering malnutrition’s impact on development, he was probably no more than seven or eight years old.

His wide black eyes stared motionlessly at the drone outside the window, his pupils etched with a mix of unease, nervousness, and curiosity.

He probably thought he was well-hidden, little did he know the camera could clearly see everything inside the room.

"Looks like a local survivor... a kid," said Wild Wind, syncing the drone’s feed to his teammates’ VMs.

Fang Chang cautiously asked,

"Anyone else around? Or weapons?"

The Looters had no shortage of child soldiers, and he didn’t let his guard down just because the figure was a child.

Wild Wind shook his head.

"No signs... I have yet to see a Looter that skinny."

"Alert dismissed."

At least for now...

Relieved, Old White stowed his rifle and turned off the safety.

Some aspects of the Game were made a little too real.

Even with the dream filter removing most sensory stimuli that exceeded tolerances, players with strong immersion could still feel mental discomfort from crossing the line.

Like seeing Looters throw living people into boiling oil...

If he could help it, he’d rather not have to confront someone younger than himself in combat.

Patting Fang Chang on the shoulder, Old White said,

"Let’s go, time to move."

Dawn had broken.

The Looters’ tanks weren’t likely to venture out in daylight. There was no point in staying put any longer; better to log off and surf the official forum for a bit.

But now, with all the players online from six in the evening until midnight, these were the hours that belonged to the Backseat Drivers.

This night after night of battles had completely thrown off their daily routines...

As they approached the stairwell.

Old White suddenly remembered something.

"Right, we haven’t collected the airdrop crate from last night yet. Let’s pick it up before logging off."

Night Ten asked curiously,

"Didn’t you say there was no rush to collect it?"

Old White didn’t answer that question but took out a big bag of green wheat cakes remaining in his backpack and placed it on the floor.

"I changed my mind."

Fang Chang sighed,

"You really shouldn’t take the game too seriously. According to the settings, there are at least five or six thousand survivors in this city. Those airdrop supplies barely scratch the surface. If you really want to pull them out of their miserable lives, it’s better to get rid of Looter sooner."

Old White laughed.

"I know. Just consider this to be for my personal satisfaction."

The group left.

Hearing the sound from the floor above disappearing,

the boy tiptoed upstairs to see if the soldiers from the New Alliance had left any garbage behind that could be scavenged.

For instance, things like spent casings could be traded for food at the resistance organization’s base.

However, the boy didn’t hold much hope for finding casings.

These people hadn’t fired a single shot all of the previous night. If there were any casings left, that would be truly bizarre.

Ever since that gang of Looters had arrived, survivor settlements were successively destroyed. Survivors either were captured as slaves or hid underground. Without any farmland, they could only grow some fungi that didn’t require much light or go outside to find wild green wheat and goat’s horn potatoes, or even resort to eating dirt and chewing on bark.

Originally, they could still scrape by like this, but trouble struck when Qingquan City For survivors in the Western Province City suffered a plague outbreak. The mushroom fields yielded less, and wild crops like green wheat and goat’s horn potatoes nearly disappeared from Western Province City. The resistance organization’s bases faced an unprecedented survival crisis.

People were able to get very little relief food before, but now even nutrient paste had to be traded for by picking up trash.

The boy had wanted to join the guerrilla team, which reportedly provided meals, but he was too young. They didn’t consider him at all, so he had to pick garbage on the streets with a burlap sack.

Fortunately, the soldiers from the New Alliance gradually joined the battlefield lately. These troops not only had better equipment than the guerrillas but also had wasteful habits.

These soldiers never bothered to pick up casings dropped on the ground, let alone instances when a surprise skirmish occurred and half-eaten rations weren’t put away but carelessly thrown away.

The guerrilla team had encouraged them to collect casings from the ground; twenty copper casings could be traded for 100g of nutrient paste. Sometimes, the boy couldn’t help but wish he could join the New Alliance.

People from the New Alliance didn’t even want casings that fell on the ground, so their homes must be filled with endless garbage.

Having ascended the stairs, the boy was about to sneak into the next room.

It was then that he caught a whiff of a tempting aroma.

Following the scent, the boy found it and saw the green wheat cakes on the floor. His dark eyes widened instantly. Overcome by hunger, he pounced and stuffed a piece into his mouth.

The sensation of bliss spread across his lips and teeth. An incredulous expression bloomed across his waxy-yellow face.

He couldn’t describe the flavor, having never eaten such delicious green wheat cakes before... were these actually green wheat cakes? Why was there a smell of fat and absolutely no sour taste of grass!

How was this done?

Were these people messengers of the Great Antler God?!

Having finally swallowed the food in his mouth, the boy covetously eyed the bag of green wheat cakes on the floor but refrained from eating more. He carefully packed them into his burlap sack.

"I need to get back before dawn."

If he stayed out too long, his sister would worry...

Silently thanking these generous people, the boy carefully stored the rest of the wheat cakes and, like a rabbit, squeezed through the small cracks and darted out of the apartment.

He had no idea why the soldiers of the New Alliance had left these tasty treats behind.

Just like how, at this very moment, he didn’t realize four pairs of eyes were following him from behind.

"Say... is it really okay to be tracking a kid?" Night Ten said with a weird expression.

Fang Chang didn’t directly address that question.

Or rather, he didn’t answer from the angle Night Ten was asking from.

"Let’s make a bold assumption—if the behavioral logic of an NPC is to go out to gather food, then after collecting enough, what would be his next step?"

Night Ten paused.

"... Bringing the food back home?"

"Correct!" Fang Chang snapped his fingers silently, a smile on his lips, "Just follow him, and we’ll find his home."

Night Ten held his forehead.

"I’m telling you... you wouldn’t actually go through a scavenger’s belongings, would you?"

Wild Wind also pitched in.

"I’m against this behavior. It’s not worth feeling guilty for a few silver coins."

Fang Chang coughed.

"When the hell did I say I would go through someone else’s belongings? Am I that despicable?! I’m just purely curious about where he lives. Aren’t you curious too?"

Night Ten and Wild Wind exchanged glances.

"Weren’t they supposed to be living underground?"

"Hmm... the official background information stated that the survivors of Western Province City hide underground from the Chewing Bone Tribe’s Looters, and they established a resistance organization and a guerrilla team."

Fang Chang exclaimed in frustration,

"Exactly! You both know they’ve set up a resistance organization. Thinking rationally, if there’s an organization, shouldn’t there be a fixed base? A survivor settlement is right beneath our feet, and we’ve been in this new map for more than half a month without knowing where it is! Aren’t you curious what it looks like?"

Wild Wind was slightly stunned.

"Thinking rationally... that does make sense."

"Hey, I just wanted to casually do a good deed," Old White said with a scratch of the back of his head, in frustration, "Alright, what you’re saying makes sense too."

If they could connect with the local resistance organization, it would definitely help them.

It was strange, they’d been here for more than half a month, and the local resistance organization had never gotten in touch with them.

Was it because the program was set up to require players to discover it themselves?

"Are we going back to collect the supply drop box later?" Night Ten asked.

"No, it’s about to get light. We’ll collect it when it’s dark again... Let’s go meet the local resistance organization first," said Old White as he reached out and snatched two packs of green wheat biscuits from Fang Chang’s tactical pouch. "Let me have two packs."

"Damn! Take them from my backpack, why don’t you? I hang them in front of my chest to block bullets," Fang Chang reflexively dodged to the side, covering his chest with both hands.

Old White couldn’t help rolling his eyes.

"Like this could block any bullets!"

Night Ten: "Hahaha!"

Wild Wind coughed dryly.

"Don’t lose track of the kid... Let’s go."

The group followed the boy, crossing two streets and walking about two kilometers to a half-collapsed subway station entrance.

The boy stopped at the entrance, carefully looked around, then slipped inside.

Fang Chang and the others followed him through the subway’s ticket barrier, entering the dark tunnel from the platform.

There was an abundance of rats here, a dark mass teeming in the derelict carriages, and they weren’t afraid of humans, even baring their teeth at them.

The boy pulled out a steel bar and swung it wildly a few times to scare off the rats, then immediately dashed deeper into the tunnel.

"These can’t all be Mosquito’s little brothers, can they?" Night Ten muttered quietly behind him.

"You’re thinking too highly of him... Forget the rats, just don’t lose sight of the kid." Fang Chang had a hunch they were almost there.

The boy stopped in front of a green-painted iron door and rhythmically knocked a few times.

It didn’t take long for the door to swiftly open.

The boy darted through, vanishing from the tunnel as if he had never been there.

"... That must be the entrance to West State City’s underground survivor settlement!" Excitement filled Fang Chang’s face.

New Map!

A hot forum post with over 100k likes was in the bag!

Old White stroked his chin.

"I’m thinking about how we should greet them. Do we just knock on the door directly? Or should we start with a ’hello’?"

Wild Wind pondered.

"I think it might be better to introduce ourselves first."

While Old White and Wild Wind were discussing how to greet the others, Night Ten’s expression changed subtly, and he gripped his semi-automatic rifle.

"Someone’s coming!"

His speech had barely ended when the sound of footsteps came from the back of the tunnel.

A group of disheveled men in simple clothing appeared near the subway platform, their backs carrying iron pipe rifles, hands holding woven bags that seemed to suggest a poor day’s scavenging.

When they locked eyes with Old White’s group, the men were visibly startled, then began to shout in panic, cocking their iron pipe rifles.

The tension escalated rapidly.

Finger resting on the safety, Old White glanced at the weapons in those men’s hands and shot Fang Chang a knowing look.

Understanding the cue, Fang Chang stepped forward, lowering his gun muzzle, and shouted in the imperfectly learned language of the United Human.

"We are paratroopers from the New Alliance! We come in peace, hoping you’ll stay calm!"

Paratroopers from the New Alliance?!

Weren’t they fighting the Looters?

What are they doing here?

The group at the tunnel entrance clearly froze, not expecting to find people from the New Alliance here.

Keeping their weapons aimed, the leader shouted nervously.

"... How can we believe you!"

Fang Chang was concise.

"The fact that we let you stand is our greatest sign of sincerity. If you keep aiming at us, don’t blame us for what happens."

"Stop!"

The green-painted door opened.

A man in a leather jacket stepped out.

Two guards wielding automatic rifles stood by his side, and behind him followed a boy, holding a bag with a nervous expression, watching the four people in the middle of the tunnel.

Old White glanced at the boy, then at the man in the leather jacket. His face, chiseled as if cut from stone, with piercing eyes, easily reminded one of the Hu Wolves common in the Wasteland.

A tough one.

Both in experience and strength.

Old White made his assessment.

While he was sizing up the man, the man, in turn, appraised him with a wary gaze.

"I am Wu Chengyi, mayor of Town Of Hope, and leader of the Guerrilla Team. May I know your name?" the man introduced himself.

"Old White." Old White, unsure of how to translate "White Horse Passing a Gap" into the language of United Human, went with the nickname others gave him.

Wu Chengyi didn’t find the obviously fake name odd.

Any name goes in the Wasteland.

What you’re called isn’t important.

"Are you people from the New Alliance?"

Old White, not fluent in the language of United Human, looked at Fang Chang for help. He could take a guess using expressions and demeanor in context, but normal conversation was a bit of a stretch for him.

’How should I reply?’

’I’ve got this.’

Fang Chang, noticing his best buddy’s embarrassment, took over the conversation. Using the translation feature of his VM, he began to speak.

"Yes, we are loyal to the New Alliance, loyal to the Manager, fighting for the revival of civilization. At present, we are at war with the Chewing Bone Tribe... we heard that you are too, so we thought that the enemy of our enemy might become a friend, which is why we came uninvited."

The enemy of one’s enemy is a friend, huh...

That’s not necessarily the case in the Wasteland.

If the enemy of one’s enemy was evenly matched with oneself, they might become friends. But if there was a huge disparity in strength, they could also end up as spoils of war.

The vast majority of survivors in West State City had a favorable view of the New Alliance, even holding some unrealistic aspirations, but Wu Chengyi was very clear that there was no free lunch in this world.

As the leader of a resistance organization, he had to consider many things. Trusting strangers too easily before understanding their motives was extremely dangerous.

Wu Chengyi stared at Fang Chang and continued,

"The last question, what do you think of us?"

"What do we think?"

Fang Chang was slightly stunned, then understood what the man before him was asking and after pondering for a moment, he said,

"You are a group of... brave people, you at least haven’t surrendered. Of course, that’s only my opinion. If you want to know what the Manager thinks, why not ask him directly?"

Wu Chengyi was taken aback.

"You can contact him?"

Fang Chang gave him a strange look.

"Of course, our radio can communicate with the rear at any time."

Hearing this, expressions of joy surfaced on the faces of those around.

After a brief exchange with the guards beside him in a low voice, Wu Chengyi signaled the guerrilla team members to put away their guns.

He walked over to where the players were standing and extended his right hand.

"Thank you for offering us help, and please forgive our caution. We have witnessed too many of our compatriots’ deaths over the past six months, making it difficult for us to trust any stranger easily."

Fang Chang shook his hand.

"Understood."

After a pause, Wu Chengyi continued,

"Regarding your earlier suggestion, I have considered it."

"Please allow me to speak to your Manager."

...

New Alliance Barracks.

Sitting in the command room, Chu Guang was looking at the report sent from Qingstone County.

The survey of the copper molybdenum deposit had been completed, the construction equipment had arrived, and the mining and smelting of copper ore were underway.

As of last weekend, the New Alliance had become self-sufficient in industrial raw materials such as copper, molybdenum, and sulfur.

The railway for transportation had also been laid from Far Creek Town to Qingstone County.

Chu Guang had taken special note these days of the comments on the forum from those "life occupation players sent to explore the mines in the Geological Park."

Based on the photos they had shot and the discussions among backseat drivers, the mining equipment left over from the early days of the Human Alliance Era had shocked everyone.

Especially in terms of industrial design.

Although more than three hundred years had passed and those antiquities displayed as mining equipment were long inoperative, the design approach of some devices still offered significant inspiration.

That kind of enlightenment coming from a professional field was far more impactful for those few geology enthusiasts than things like solid hydrogen or X-4 fibers.

All the players involved in the survey couldn’t help but marvel.

This game company’s business scope is just too broad!

"Master, there’s news from the Burning Corps you sent to West State City," came Xiao Qi’s voice by his ear.

Putting down the report from the logistics department, Chu Guang asked casually,

"What’s the news?"

Xiao Qi continued,

"Your players have made contact with the local survivors. A man claiming to be the leader of the resistance organization wishes to speak with you."

The resistance organization of West State City?

Frankly, in his original plan, he had considered using the local survivors’ power to deal with the Ya Clan.

But that was several versions ago.

With the cards in his hand now, there was no need to foster local resistance, as making them too strong could affect their later incorporation.

However, since they had taken the initiative to contact him...

This might be a good opportunity.

Tapping his index finger lightly on the table, Chu Guang pondered for a while and then spoke,

"Set up a time to talk to them."

"Alrighty, Master!"

As an assistant, Xiao Qi was as reliable as ever today. As soon as the words were spoken, he immediately set about arranging a time for the phone conference.

Picking up the tablet again, Chu Guang flipped to the last document.

[West State City Industrial Zone Development Plan (Draft)]

After pondering for a moment, Chu Guang added a line to the title.

[... and the New Restoration Zone and Survivor Settlement Reconstruction Plan]

There were many survivors in West State City, plus captives from the Looters. City of Dawn could not possibly absorb them all at once due to its population capacity.

The best method would be to create a new settlement, to localize those survivors.

He was planning to transfer heavy industry from Qingquan City to West State City, which was farther away from Giant Stone City.

Looking at the document in hand, Chu Guang nodded satisfactorily.

"This pie..."

"The players and indigenous people should both like it."

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