This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 463: These old players, each more inhuman than the last

Chapter 463: Chapter 463: These old players, each more inhuman than the last

Although he had been a "military drill instructor" for less than half a month, there were already thousands of newcomers who had died under the Battlefield Atmosphere Group.

The forum was filled with wails and howls, and his reputation as a killer of rookies had become well-established.

The only thing missing was an official certification of achievement from Ah Guang.

However, after a thousand days of hunting eagles, one was bound to eventually be pecked by an eagle. No matter how steady the ship was, it could still end up adrift in the gutter.

Just as the Old Soldier, clad in his Pangolin armor, had finally achieved the "Three Thousand Kills" myth and had been hailed as the next War God by the Triumph Newspaper, a stray cannonball from the sky ended his killing spree...

After the deafening boom and the subsequent shrill busy signal, he quickly disconnected in a ragged manner.

When he logged back into the Game, it was already more than five hours later.

Waking from his "coma," the Old Soldier’s glaring eyes nearly frightened the doctor stitching him up.

Seeing the Pangolin, wrapped up like a mummy, suddenly open his eyes, the nurses standing by the bed were all stunned into exchanging shocked whispers.

"...My god, he woke up."

"Doctor Ret said there were at least twelve bullet shrapnel in his body, and those barbarians’ bombs had fallen less than twenty meters from him!"

"Is this what an Awakener is?"

"It must be an Awakener... I heard their physical condition greatly surpasses that of ordinary people, otherwise a regular person would’ve died instantly."

"But awakening isn’t always good, I’ve heard it’s hard for Awakeners to have offspring."

One of the nurses blushed slightly.

"That’s not too bad..."

Her colleagues looked at her in surprise, and she, perhaps feeling embarrassed, blushed and slipped out the door.

After carefully stitching the last suture, the doctor named Ret dropped his tools into the tray and sighed as he looked at the Pangolin lying on the hospital bed.

"You’re awake."

Based on his features, he was not from Vellante but also not from Luo Xia Province, probably from another region occupied by the Army from the West Continent.

The Old Soldier looked at the ceiling, then at the bandages on his body, and slowly said,

"Where is this..."

"This is the field hospital of Area 53. The front-line medical soldiers couldn’t handle your wounds, so Officer Coleway arranged for you to be transported here."

With a jest, Doctor Ret added,

"To be honest, when I first saw you, I thought you were done for, but you’ve exceeded my expectations and pulled through."

The Old Soldier nodded in understanding. He didn’t pay much attention to the latter part of the doctor’s statement, relaxed his shoulders, and laid his head back on the pillow.

It was about twenty kilometers from the front line, a relatively rear position.

However, he was not in a hurry to return to the front line.

For the coming days, there wouldn’t be any more newcomers arriving to be killed.

Tomorrow the Storm Corps would make a symbolic feint, and then this "fuel to the fire" operation would officially end.

And then—

It would be Brother Quanshui’s No.3 plan!

The nearly two thousand newcomers who had recently joined the game had each died at least once, and some even three times!

With this accumulation of death experiences, they should be ready to play their parts on the battlefield.

"... I’ve removed the bullets that could be removed, and all your wounds are stitched up; is there anywhere else you feel uncomfortable?" Doctor Ret asked.

He had a good impression of the Pangolin soldier. An Awakener who wasn’t from Vellante but had achieved feats on the battlefield that even the Vellante People respected.

Such a heroic tale was like a refreshing story for him, born into a "servant race."

The Old Soldier closed his eyes and thought for a moment.

"My head hurts a bit."

"It’s probably a mild concussion. Rest well and try to recover as soon as you can."

The doctor patted his shoulder and grinned.

"The radio has been full of your story these days; you can’t fall here."

The Old Soldier chuckled and nodded gently.

Of course, he couldn’t fall.

His mission wasn’t complete yet.

Watching the doctor leave, the Old Soldier relaxed his whole body and lay flat on the bed, pondering whether to log out and rest, or stay online and count sheep to kill time.

After all, it was late night outside the game, which seemed a bit boring.

Speaking of which, there seemed to be game consoles in Ideal City, and one could even play virtual reality games within a virtual reality game; Brother Mole’s newly-opened studio had even ported the game "Chicken Dinner" there.

Wait a minute...

Doesn’t this mean that going to Ideal City could allow one to game 24/7 without any health issues?!

Just thinking that Fang Chang was already living such a "luxurious" life ahead of him, the Old Soldier balled his fists in frustration.

Damn it!

Next to Brother Quanshui the old Silver coin, that bastard might actually be the hidden Exalted!

While the Old Soldier was lost in these thoughts, a striking woman with deep brown long hair and an impressive figure burst into the tent.

In her hands, she carried a tray with a bowl and spoon, probably with food from the dining hall.

The Old Soldier turned his face towards the door and blurted out without thinking.

"Who are you?"

Hearing this, the woman’s face showed a panicked expression, and she hurriedly placed the tray on the bedside table and approached the bed.

"Have you lost your memory?"

Lost memory?

The Old Soldier paused, then chuckled awkwardly.

How could that be possible?

He had indeed lost consciousness for a while just now, and his head was slightly injured, but it wasn’t serious enough to cause amnesia.

In fact, he had been able to log in again two hours ago, but his offensive mouth offline had delayed him.

And the reason he didn’t recognize her immediately was simply because he’d forgotten her name.

It seemed...

Her name was Penny, right?

Faced with that "fiery" gaze, he felt a bit embarrassed, but Penny didn’t shy away. Instead, she triumphantly curled her lips.

"The doctor said you should eat something, so I went to the mess hall and made you some beet soup. Are you hungry? I can feed you."

Old Soldier felt a surge of joy inside.

Such good fortune?!

Considering it was a 100% real virtual reality game, even the resolute "Pangolin" couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement.

What a bonus from the dog planner!

Missing out on this would practically be a disservice to Ah Guang’s kindness.

However, as he just raised his neck and glanced at the bowl, the word "okay" got stuck in his throat.

Inside the bowl, a dark, paste-like substance floated, clearly separating from the liquid below, with some greenish froth on the surface—probably chopped parsley.

Whether judged by "color, aroma, or taste," convincing anyone that this substance was food would be difficult.

But if placed in an organic chemistry lab, it would fit right in.

Penny, seemingly aware of the dish’s unappealing appearance, blushed, trying to explain.

"I might have boiled it a bit too long... but it’s edible."

That’s an understatement.

It was practically carbonized, okay!!

Old Soldier coughed dryly.

"I... have a bit of a headache and I’m not feeling hungry; may I have some time alone?"

His chicken soup hadn’t even been served yet.

If it was all dismissed just like that, it would be even more embarrassing than being carried away by the newbies!

Apparently not catching the subtle hint in his words, Penny looked at him with sympathy, sighed softly, and placed the bowl on the bedside table.

"Then you rest for now..."

"And remember to eat it while it’s hot."

With that, she left the room.

Watching the curtain close, Old Soldier had just breathed a sigh of relief when, within two seconds, the tent’s curtain was lifted again.

This time, it was his superior, Officer Coleway, who walked in with a concerned expression.

"Feeling any better?"

"Somewhat."

Seeing his capable subordinate wrapped in bandages, Coleway expressed with a touched tone,

"It’s hard to imagine you could be this injured."

Old Soldier made a helpless gesture.

Even as a low-grade version, it was still rocket artillery.

In the face of enough explosive force, all skill and experience are just fancy tricks.

Coleway then noticed a tray and the dark soup on the bedside table.

"What’s this?"

Old Soldier coughed lightly.

"Miss Penny made it in the mess hall... It’s supposedly beet soup? But I’m not feeling up for it, would you like to try?"

"Penny made it for you? Lucky guy, she’s quite popular on the front lines, many of the young men see her as a dream girl," Coleway looked at him in surprise, then smirked and squeezed his eyebrows as he picked up the bowl of soup, "Let me taste it for you."

Old Soldier was about to say there was no need to force himself, considering if Coleway died from it he’d really be left alone in the army.

However, Coleway’s hand moved with his mind, and before Old Soldier could intervene, he scooped up a spoonful of the dark soup and shoved it into his mouth.

Old Soldier stared, dumbfounded.

Just when he thought Coleway would spit it out, a layer of tears suddenly appeared in Coleway’s eyes.

"...The taste of home."

Sniffling, he scooped another mouthful, murmuring emotionally.

"Damn, the chefs in Sunset Province just can’t understand this flavor... It’s been almost five or six years since I’ve had it!"

With that, he leaned over the bowl and wolfed down the soup so enthusiastically that even the coal-like liquid hanging on his beard went unnoticed.

Old Soldier stared incredulously and couldn’t help but ask.

"Isn’t beet soup supposed to be red?"

Setting down the bowl, Coleway paused.

"Red? Are beets from Brocade River Province red?"

Old Soldier swallowed nervously and asked hesitantly.

"Are they black where you come from?"

Coleway nodded with a complicated expression.

"Although the layers and taste might be a bit more even, and the flavor of the pepper a bit richer, the color is pretty much the same..."

Old Soldier: "..."

People eat such disgusting food every day.

He felt a bit sorry for these big-nosed folks.

Unwatchfully, Coleway had finished his food and only then did he realize, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment.

"Uh, sorry, I ate all the delicacies Miss Penny made for you... I’ll go ask her to make another bowl for you."

Old Soldier quickly spoke up.

"No need! Just bring me two roasted beef legs."

If that guy knew how big my appetite was, my undercover career would be finished.

Coleway was stunned for a moment.

"With such serious injuries, can you digest that kind of food?"

Old Soldier did not hesitate.

"No problem! I only injured my legs and arms, my stomach is fine. Need to load up on protein for faster recovery... the doctor said so."

Coleway didn’t try to dissuade him further and nodded.

"Alright then, I’ll arrange for someone to deliver it to you soon."

Watching Coleway leave the tent, Old Soldier sighed in relief, lifting his bandaged arm to wipe his forehead, and muttered curses under his breath.

"Damn... wish I hadn’t woken up."

...

That same evening.

"Wasteland OL" official forum.

Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "The beets in this game are red, right??"

Makabazi: "Yes, I’ve seen them at Brown Farm."

Hunting Tigers on the Mountain: "+1, although I’ve also seen the purple variety."

Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "Then why is the Army’s beet soup black!"

Teng Teng: "What is this dark cuisine..."

Crow: "Scary. (˘•灬•˘)"

Stir-Fried Tomato and Eggs: "Maybe it mutated."

Fang Chang: "Indeed, if animals can mutate, no reason why plants can’t... by the way, why do you suddenly ask?"

Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "Hehe, embarrassed to say... A beauty made me a bowl of beet soup, it’s just that the pitch-black appearance scared me, hope it’s not poisonous!"

Night Ten: "You sly dog, you were tricked!"

Brick Kid on the Construction Site: "Damn it! Wait, I’m bringing my guys to hit you with a rocket barrage!"

Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "Hahaha! Go ahead, bomb away, I’m not on the frontline anymore! (smug)"

Spring Water Commander: "Right, stop enjoying yourself, Plan No.3 is about to start, you better start planning your escape, don’t let the noobs actually bankrupt you with gold coins. (side eye)"

Old White: "Really, come home sometime, it’s been a long while. (grinning)"

Night Ten: "Brother, haven’t saved your game for about two months, have you? (funny)"

I Max Black: "Damn it, thinking of increasing the bounty on the pangolin."

Debt Giant Eye: "Hahahaha, +1, mainly because I’ve never seen a whole level drop. (shy)"

Battlefield Atmosphere Group: "Damn! Just be human, guys!"

WC Mosquito: "(smirk)"

...

North Airport of Dawn City.

One by one, the desert-colored H-1 "Dragonfly" transport planes parked next to the runway, with loaders in exoskeletons pushing forklifts, moving boxes of packed supplies into the cargo holds.

The Tiger Whale transport aircraft of the company, despite having the advantages of "fast flying speed" and "deployment on any terrain," had ultimately limited logistical resources.

The logistics route from the East Coast to the Alliance was equally crucial, and the company couldn’t spare more "Tiger Whale" aircraft for this war, so this transport route from Dawn City to the frontline had to be managed by the Alliance.

The journey of thousands of kilometers had exceeded the cruising radius of the H-1 transport plane, necessitating the 81st Steel Factory to replace some of the batteries in the H-1 planes with explosive metallic hydrogen.

Meanwhile, Chu Guang had contacted the Lion Kingdom to coordinate with the Alliance’s construction team to expand the northern airport of Lion City and use it as a supply transfer station.

This finally established an aerial corridor from Dawn City to the frontline.

The day of the decisive battle was drawing near.

Every department and every person in the Alliance were like wound-up gears, busy preparing for the imminent final battle...

"Be good, listen, I’ll be back in a few days."

"Eey ooh!"

"How about I bring you some candy when I come back?"

"Eey ooh!"

"...Chur!"

"Chur!"

"Cough—don’t learn that."

Next to the hangar.

Falling Feather watched helplessly as Xiaoyu clung to him, refusing to let go, trying to explain he was only leaving for a few days and would be back soon.

However—

Xiaoyu’s face still showed reluctance, its tentacles tightly grasping his arm, absolutely unwilling to let go.

Falling Feather felt a headache coming on.

This guy clearly understood what he was saying!

Seeing the commotion, Mosquito walked over, holding the back of his head, and jokingly said,

"Stuck together again, huh? Why not just bring it to the frontline with you?"

Falling Feather rolled his eyes.

"Buzz off! I’m flying a plane, what good would bringing it do?"

Mosquito laughed and said,

"Let’s fly together...but speaking of which, we don’t seem to have a two-seater jet. I’ll figure out how to get one soon."

Falling Feather couldn’t help but remind him,

"It weighs two hundred kilograms."

Mosquito was taken aback,

"Damn...that might be difficult, I’d have to bring fewer missiles if I sat on it."

Xiaoyu: "Chur!"

Falling Feather covered his face, clearly exasperated.

After much effort, he finally managed to calm Xiaoyu down. Although its sudden compliance was somewhat bizarre, he couldn’t afford to delve into it at that moment.

The launch of Plan Three was imminent, and the Alliance was about to launch a full-scale offensive against the Army occupying Oasis No. 3 and the Falcon Kingdom Allied forces, delivering a final blow to their already exhausted troops.

However, a starved camel is still bigger than a horse, and despite severe supply issues, the Army still had a "Peidao" fighter plane that posed a deadly threat to the Alliance’s air forces.

To cover for the five "Cloud Dragonfly" Flapping Machines being deployed by the Skeleton Corps, he needed to pilot the modified "Soaring Clouds" fighter plane to the front line.

Even if it couldn’t shoot it down,

he had to do everything possible to hold it off and buy time for the ground troops!

Following Mosquito toward the hangar, Falling Feather noticed the airport staff loading unusually large boxes into the plane and asked curiously,

"What are these planes carrying?"

Mosquito snickered proudly,

"’Fat Boy’ rockets! Goblin Technology’s latest product, officially known as gas cylinder bombs!"

Falling Feather was stunned, staring blankly at a warehouse nearby.

"What the heck?! They’re all...?"

Mosquito nodded with pride,

"Absolutely!"

Falling Feather laughed ruefully,

"Don’t the army already have 155s? Why produce so many of those things."

Mosquito coughed, explaining,

"Although we are equipped with a large number of 155 howitzers, our allies haven’t adopted such advanced weaponry yet. The respected Manager took pity on these natives still using medieval muzzle-loading cannons for warfare, so he asked me to develop an affordable and effective weapon to sell to them."

Falling Feather couldn’t resist quipping,

"And you’re palming these off on them?"

"How can you say that!" Mosquito glared at him, reasoned assertively, "They themselves actively requested to place an order!"

Disbelief was written all over Falling Feather’s face.

Who would pay money for something that, apart from its power, was utterly useless and utterly devoid of tech!

Anyone could make these in a small workshop!

Seeing the disbelief on his face, Mosquito chuckled slyly and continued,

"Just recently, the Storm Corps and Death Legion were testing apprentices on the frontlines with Pangolins, right? That accompanying soldier from the Lion Kingdom was Prince Wenter’s personal guard. He witnessed the power of those gas cylinder bombs and couldn’t believe his eyes!"

Falling Feather was amazed.

"It can work like that..."

"Absolutely, is there anywhere better than a battlefield to promote weapons?" Mosquito continued confidently, "Especially since this thing is easy to install, simple to operate; a person could deploy it just by pulling a cart with a donkey. After seeing the strength of Alliance weaponry, Prince Wenter came to our location overnight, found our commander, and placed an order for five thousand on the spot."

Falling Feather: "...how much for one?"

Mosquito waved his hand,

"Not expensive, just eight thousand silver coins."

Falling Feather: "Pfft!"

Wow!

Eight thousand!

A miner’s exoskeleton costs just two thousand, and for an extra two thousand silver coins, you could buy a Type Five ’Light Cavalry’!

That’s a real rip-off!

Seeing the expression on Falling Feather’s face, Mosquito realized he had perhaps bragged too much and quickly added,

"Cough...don’t think I made too much though, the trade price was actually negotiated by the Manager. The arms sale was organized by the Alliance, we just took on the production order to make a bit of pocket money. The profit isn’t as exaggerated as you think."

Falling Feather rolled his eyes and said,

"I trust you, my ass!"

Regardless of whether he believed him or not, Mosquito coughed and continued,

"...Anyway, these things aren’t as low-tech as you think, there’s still some cost involved."

"Thanks to Comrade Pangolin and those newbies, our engineers made a slight improvement to these things, adding some thickening agents, high-energy fuel, and azide compounds to the formula. The power increased by about thirty percent, and they have a continuous burning effect, especially effective against targets hiding in cover,"

"Hehe."

As he spoke, even Mosquito felt a bit embarrassed and smiled shyly.

Falling Feather stared at him, speechless for a long time.

Damn.

These veteran players are something else!

He originally thought the Brother Battlefield just worked as a military instructor, though tough, it wasn’t too hard. He didn’t expect to find himself just scratching the surface.

Unbeknownst to him, all sorts of operations—weapon testing, arms promotion, and more—had been arranged for him.

Suddenly, Falling Feather felt a pang of sympathy for Brother Battlefield.

Managing to live under Pangolin’s pseudonym till now.

Truly, that was no small feat...