This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 370: Bloody Chips

Chapter 370: Chapter 370: Bloody Chips

As soon as Old White finished speaking, the index finger of his right hand had already flicked the safety off the rifle.

All the players from the Burning Corps beside him did the same.

The undisguised murderous intent caused Iron Thorn, the strong man, to slightly narrow his eyes.

"Hey, wait, is there some kind of misunderstanding?"

Sweat seeped from his forehead as he raised both hands, stepping backward while trying to defuse the high-tension atmosphere. He didn’t know what had offended this man, but his instincts told him it was extremely dangerous.

"No."

This time, Iron Thorn finally understood what the man in front of him was saying.

And in his eyes, a deep fear was permanently etched.

"...The Alliance never negotiates with Looters, nor does deals with them. Every penny you make could turn into bullets aimed at civilized people."

Fang Chang took the Dawn Longbow off his back and fitted an arrow to the bowstring.

"So, the deal is off."

"If you believe in fists, then let’s talk with fists!"

"You sure talk too much!" Iron Thorn, having backed to a safe distance, shouted loudly with fierce lights shining in his eyes, "Fire at these bastards! Kill them all!"

However—

The symphony of machine guns did not sound.

Instead, a gunshot, abrupt as thunder, cut short his premature gloating.

Nearby, from a window, the man manning the machine gun’s head exploded into a mist of blood, and he collapsed to the ground.

At the same time, the assault rifles held horizontally in the hands of the players were already unanimously aimed in his direction.

"Fire!"

Old White crisply gave the command to open fire and simultaneously pulled the trigger.

Tut-tut-tut—!

Barrels spitting long tongues of fire, streams of orange-yellow bullets burst forth, utterly shredding the quiet of the street.

Iron Thorn and several of his henchmen were instantly riddled with bullets, collapsing to the ground before they could even groan.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye, leaving the gunmen hired by Edmond completely unable to react, caught off guard by the sudden barrage.

Nevertheless, they were quick to respond.

From the windows of the movie theater on the second floor, rifle barrels quickly poked out. The gunmen lurking there started firing back at the players below.

However, they were up against the Alliance’s T0 ladder team.

On the battlefields of West State City, these players had already faced countless trials of steel, fire, and death—who were these mere brutes to withstand them?

Whether it was tactics, fighting will, or proficiency in street fighting, the parties were not even close to the same level.

The players skillfully spread out, quickly pinpointing the key firing positions around the movie theater and in a well-coordinated move, returned fire with alternating coverage.

Although there were a good hundred gunmen inside the movie theater, faced with the assault of just over twenty players, they were initially suppressed to the point of being unable to raise their heads!

Not to mention the snipers lying on nearby high buildings, systematically picking off any gunman who dared stick out their head.

Even if not every gunshot took a life, the fear of unknown death hovering overhead brought immense psychological pressure.

Two gunmen, crouched by the door, tried to close the reinforced door.

But just then, an arrow—"swoosh"—pierced into the door and exploded in an instant.

Shrapnel from the blast scattered in every direction, immediately killing the two gunmen guarding the door.

Simultaneously, a drone folded its rotors, gliding down from high above before zooming into a second-floor window of the movie theater with the buzzing sound like beating wings of a hornet.

A thunderous explosion boomed.

Orange-red flames rolled out of the dark windows, blasting a vast amount of sand and dust high into the air, dragging with it pebbles and chunks of cement that fell from the half-collapsed exterior wall.

On the first floor Open Space, Slaves curled up in iron cages, trembling and clearly perturbed.

And from the windows on the second floor, the gun muzzles once hidden there were now completely silent.

The relatively confined space only acted to amplify the effect of the blast wave from the explosion.

The "Spring Knife" that came from above was far more powerful than any of the gunmen had anticipated. Most, even if not instantly killed, were stunned by the blast.

"Prepare to assault!"

Seizing the opportunity, Old White raised his left fist, made a crisp gesture forward, and took the lead in advancing.

Three team members immediately followed him, swiftly launching an attack at the front door.

The other four, four-man squads did the same, spreading out and advancing like a tack heading straight on.

The main door was quickly breached.

Next up were the stairs.

The clanging exchanges of gunfire broke from bottom to top, with the attempting blockers being successively killed and rolling down from the top of the stairs.

Pushed on to the second floor.

Old White, holding his rifle level, issued a sweeping-clear command to the squads, then proceeded forward with his own team.

The five teams that entered the second floor divided into three directions, meticulously searching each corridor, each theater, each seat, and every nook and cranny.

A gunman, supporting himself against the wall, staggered towards the emergency exit, only to encounter a group of aimed rifles.

Kill Dagger, clutching his rifle, yelled loudly.

"Drop your weapons!"

However, the gunman ignored him and even tried to return fire.

Seeing that persuasion was futile, Kill Dagger did not hesitate to pull his trigger, sending a spray of bullets and dispatching the man.

Watching the body lying in a pool of blood and the rifle barrel emitting blue smoke, Kill Dagger muttered a curse.

"Damn, I used the United Human language this time!"

Captives could, after all, be exchanged for Contribution Points and silver coins.

The bodies could only accumulate some active substance.

"Maybe he was deafened by the spring knife just now," the Kidney Fighter suddenly said.

"Uh, that kind of makes sense."

On the other side, having completed the clearing of the northern area, Fang Chang raised his forefinger to his earpiece and reported the here.

At the same time, reports from other squads began to echo on the communication channel.

"Western room is cleared."

"Eastern room is cleared."

"The hallway is under control."

"Operation room found... Three doctors on the scene, one suspected to be Edmond."

"Wait there for me."

With that, Fang Chang opened the VM to confirm the location on the map and immediately headed toward the operation room.

When he arrived at the destination, a tall, thin man was holding up his hands, having retreated from the side of the operating table to the corner.

He was wearing an apron stained with blood and grease, similar to what chefs wear.

Beside him stood a man and a woman, dressed the same, presumably his assistants, both wearing looks of horror on their faces.

The recent explosion and a series of gunshots had nearly scared them shitless.

On the operating table lay a boy, about twelve or thirteen years old, with a fairly muscular physique, as if he often engaged in physical labor.

But now, his breathing was very weak, akin to a flickering candle in the wind.

Fang Chang noticed a fresh incision on the boy’s left abdomen.

Feeling the increasingly intense murderous intent in everyone’s eyes, Edmond stammered,

"I, I’m not the one who tied him up here..."

"So, he volunteered?" Fang Chang asked sarcastically.

"I paid money!"

"How much?"

"50... No, not just 50, I also paid 300 as a tribute to Mr. West, who is the second-in-command of the Dagger Gang, and this lad lives on his street."

Fang Chang had heard of the Dagger Gang, but only just heard of them.

However, now was not the time to discuss this.

He looked at the boy lying on the operating table and then at the man in front of him.

"What’s his condition?"

Edmond nervously said,

"The, the operation had a complication... that bomb you guys threw, my hand shook."

Fang Chang inquired,

"Can he be saved?"

The expression on Edmond’s face looked uneasy.

"Yes, there is a chance... but we’d probably need to transplant a pair of kidneys."

Watching the translation on the VM, Old White said nothing.

He glanced at his teammate, took a briefcase from the latter, and placed it on a metal stand next to the operating table.

Under Edmond’s astonished gaze, Fang Chang stared at the man and continued,

"Install them."

"And then we’ll discuss your issue."

Having sneakily glanced at the briefcase, a flash of pain crossed Edmond’s eyes.

It was supposed to be his!

But, the cold barrel of the gun left him with no courage to voice that he thought these men were untrustful; he could only curse at them silently in his mind.

Swallowing nervously, he nodded.

"Okay, okay..."

...

The operation went relatively smoothly.

The boy’s breathing gradually stabilized.

Although the effects of the anesthesia had not fully worn off, he was slowly regaining consciousness.

Edmond and his two assistants were escorted outside the operation room by Old White and his men.

Looking at the boy lying on the operation table, Fang Chang spoke,

"What’s your name?"

His cracked lips moved slightly.

"Hang..."

A one-syllable name, quite common in The Wasteland.

Fang Chang, often gathering information in taverns, had even met people named Table and Chair.

"And your parents?"

"They are... by the Giant Wall."

It must be the slums.

Having grasped the general situation, Fang Chang paused and then continued in a softer tone.

"We will send you back, don’t talk about our affairs to anyone, this is for your own good."

Although the parts from Awakeners hadn’t reached a price that would drive people insane, it was a different story when those parts appeared on a child.

Edmond and his assistant would be sent to a POW camp, and unless he voluntarily told others, no one would know about the Awakener parts in his body.

Not even about the surgery.

"Thank you..." the boy said, his eyes filled with confusion.

He didn’t understand why these people were doing this.

When he was working odd jobs at the trade station before, people seemed to wish they would die.

Yet just when he was about to leave this world, someone reached out and pulled him back.

Watching the figure disappear at the door of the operating room, the boy rested the back of his head on the pillow, staring blankly at the ceiling, muttering under his breath.

Such strange people...

...

After leaving the operating room and standing by the door, Fang Chang looked at Edmond in the hallway.

With that look, Edmond’s heart leaped to his throat, and he said nervously,

"I’ve already saved that boy..."

Fang Chang replied ungraciously,

"That’s your duty."

Edmond’s expression froze, and after a while, he said in a low and subservient tone,

"Do you want money? My chips and everything here are yours, just please let me live—"

Fang Chang cut him off and said bluntly,

"Of course we will take away your ill-gotten gains, those are our spoils of war."

Hearing this righteous statement, Edmond almost spat out a mouthful of blood.

But just then, a sudden fear appeared in his eyes,

"Are you... from the New Alliance?"

Fang Chang gave him a strange look,

"Didn’t Grey West tell you?"

"He didn’t mention it... He just told me that there was a seller offering parts of Awakeners, asked if I was interested. He said that if I paid him, he would introduce me to that seller."

Speaking tremblingly, a hint of regret suddenly appeared in Edmond’s eyes.

"That damn beast, I knew he was not up to any good!"

Several players exchanged weird glances.

Calling someone else a beast was quite the beast himself.

"I’m not interested in your personal vendettas."

Cutting off Edmond’s murmuring, Fang Chang addressed him, "You, your assistant, and a few other surrendered Looters will be sent to where you belong, to face trial there."

Edmond protested,

"Wait, this is not the New Alliance’s territory, by what right do you apply the Alliance’s law to judge me—"

Fang Chang glanced at him,

"We don’t like the look of you, is that reason enough?"

"Or there’s a gun on the ground over there, go pick it up, and we can communicate in a different way."

Edmond, his face stiff, looked at Fang Chang, his calves slightly warming up, eventually swallowing the words he had prepared to say.

That reason was indeed flawless.

After all, this was the Wasteland.

The Land Without a Master.

He could arbitrarily decide the life and death of others.

And others could likewise freely decide which standards to use against him.

That was perfectly reasonable.

...

Edmond and his men would be sent to the City of Dawn’s court, to face trial there.

The photos taken by the players at the scene, along with the recordings from the action recorder, would be enough to keep these beasts in the POW camp for the rest of their lives.

On the first floor of the cinema.

In an open courtyard reinforced with trash and concrete,

the players smashed open the rusted chains on the cage with the butts of their rifles, releasing the survivors inside.

Clad in ragged garments and emaciated, the survivors stood disoriented in the center of the open space.

Seeing the rifles in the players’ hands, fear filled many of their eyes, uncertain of what would happen next.

Noticing the fear in their eyes, Old White stepped forward and spoke in not-so-fluent United Human language,

"You are free."

"Go back, go reunite with your families."

"No matter the reasons you were locked up here, don’t make foolish choices anymore."

Soon after his words fell, it took a while before the survivors seemed to come back to life, exchanging glances and whispering quietly to each other.

Almost everyone’s eyes were filled with surprise.

They had thought they were merely moving from the pockets of one group of thugs to the pockets of another, but unexpectedly, these people had set them free.

A ragged man staggered forward a few steps.

He timidly raised his head, looking up at his benefactor.

"Can you tell me... your name?"

Old White replied with a hearty smile.

"My name is not worth mentioning. There are many of us here... We all come from the Alliance in the ’North Suburb.’"

Alliance...

The man bowed his head.

He chewed over the word repeatedly, and it seemed as though a light flickered in his cloudy pupils.

"...Thank you."

He bowed deeply and walked towards the gate, leaving the place.

Some people followed him, heading towards the Wasteland beyond the gate.

However, some stayed behind.

Old White quickly counted and found that quite a few had stayed—over fifty.

"Aren’t you leaving?"

Upon hearing this, people exchanged glances.

One of them stepped forward, his eyes downcast.

"We... have no home. Please allow us to follow your lead."

Hearing this request, Old White’s face showed hesitation.

In a typical RPG game, if he accepted, he would have to become their leader, responsible not just for their food and shelter but also for their toilet needs.

Managing a group of NPCs was much more troublesome than managing players.

"You don’t have to follow me; you should live your own lives. However... if you have nowhere else to go, you can come back to the Alliance with us."

"There are many people there like you, and they will help you start anew."

The expressions on people’s faces were initially blank.

However, upon hearing the latter part, a gleam of hope for a new life sparked in their eyes.

There were a few who remained unresponsive throughout; likely they were clones without complete mental capacities.

Old White had seen such entities before in the den of the Blood Hand Clan.

Dealing with these guys was a tricky problem.

But he wasn’t planning to bother with it.

He was here to play the game.

Showing off was fun, but thinking about the aftermath was too troublesome.

Those issues were better left to the esteemed Manager!

...

Although the deal was canceled, the players surprisingly found that their gains from this transaction had exceeded their expectations.

The chips scavenged from the basement piled up into a small mountain.

Though each chip wasn’t worth much, the total surprisingly reached up to 180,000!

Their only investment had been several magazines and one "Spring Knife."

It was a pity they hadn’t brought the RPG; it would have been even cheaper.

Looking at the mountain of chips, Killer Dagger couldn’t help exclaiming,

"Black on black crime truly is the most freaking profitable."

"What do you mean, black on black crime!"

Fang Chang rolled his eyes, refuting his statement. "It’s clearly the hammer of justice!"

"We confiscated their chips to upgrade our equipment, then used the upgraded equipment to save more survivors. This is clearly a just act, and you freaking call it black on black crime? Have some shame?"

Killer Dagger was taken aback.

Holy shit?

That makes sense!

Listening to Fang Chang’s nonsensical talk, Old White laughed and said teasingly,

"Alright, cut the crap. Playing games is about having fun, what use is spouting great principles? How should we divide these chips? Give an idea."

"Same as the last loot, split it evenly, what else?"

Upon hearing Fang Chang’s suggestion, Old White snapped his fingers.

"Okay, let’s do as you said. When Night Ten and Wild Wind return, we’ll each take a bag."

Hearing this, the players immediately cheered.

"Boss is awesome!"

"666!"

"We’re freaking rich!"

With an equal distribution, each person would get over 8,000 chips, equaling 16,000 silver coins!

What kind of mission would pay so much?

Such a huge sum.

It could be said they struck it rich overnight!

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