This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 526: Victory Day Celebration!

Chapter 526: Chapter 526: Victory Day Celebration!

"Hello, dear listeners, I am your beloved Mr. Hauser. I heard the Survivor’s Daily was shut down, and I just knew this day would come; those full-mouthed guys have finally shut their mouths! Of course, I don’t care because they have never shaken the viewership rate of Mr. Hauser’s channel! People will always stand on the right side, thank you for your unwavering support and choice!"

"Again, praise the lord mayor, praise the Inner City Residents who provide us with bread, water, and food... Oh, blame that idiot Hal, almost made me mention the most important thing last! If it weren’t for the great Inner City Research Institute improving the production process and edible standards of nutritional paste, there wouldn’t be 1 Silver Coin per kilogram of nutrition... Yes, the good news is, the nutritional paste has become cheaper again, and slowly, the bread will also become cheaper; you all will soon be able to afford it, Mr. Hauser guarantees!"

"Unfortunately, our neighbors aren’t having such a good time. They, without declaring war, won a disgraceful war by disgraceful means. The righteous heavenly punishment soon came upon them. The Alliance is deep in debt, not only owing us a significant sum of money but also owing a lot to Ideal City. Hence, they disgracefully allowed the residents of the Ideal City to construct a twenty-story building on their land... Tsk tsk, even taller than the Manager’s house. But come to think of it, does the Ground Squirrel who lives in a burrow even have its own house?"

"Anyway, remember to lock your doors and windows tonight because those poor devils will probably, just like the last time, angrily waste ammunition towards the sky, popping something that bursts the eardrums. Casually sticking out your head, be careful lest a falling shell damages your brain. Additionally, today the factories of the Alliance are all closed, everyone there has lost their jobs, and can only aimlessly roam the streets, picking up the butts of the cigarettes smoked by the Residents of the refuge... Poor North Suburb, it will probably again become a paradise for the Looter, gathering too many poor and refugees there. It’s best you don’t just go out."

"Just wait and see, next year they are done for!"

"And we will be forever young!"

The day of the Triumph Celebration.

Today, the street broadcasts are especially loud, adding a bit of a festive atmosphere to Giant Stone City, which has never been affected by war.

Mr. Hauser spent about half an hour clarifying the cause and consequence of this war to his listeners and how Giant Stone City Bank cleverly borrowed the west wind of the Army, using the 510 million debt while the Alliance was vigorously developing heavy industry and military industry, fleeced the Alliance, and reversed from being flooded with low-end industrial products by the Alliance to dumping those back at them, making the wallets of Giant Stone City swell even further.

After half an hour’s explanation, he fully argued that Giant Stone City was also a victorious side—the secretly and greatly uncrowned king!

Next to the industrial area, at the door of Walnut Tavern, a group of workers who had just woken up gathered early in the morning.

They didn’t care about the outcome of the war; anyhow, they hadn’t expected the noblemen to kindly reward them a few chips.

They were all here to chase the updates.

Although all nonsense, the Worker’s Report’s novels were clearly much more interesting than Mr. Hauser’s nonsense.

Especially since the story had just reached an exciting point where the poor boy from the slum, "Doji" by the awakening of his powers, miraculously defeated a power armor invaded by mold, not only earning a handsome bounty and a black room card but also winning the favor of a beautiful noble lady who fell madly in love with him, although this also led her enthusiastic suitor— a leader from Militia Group to see him as a thorn in the eye.

Although a very clichéd story, the content was not only clichéd but even vulgar, yet it thrilled them so much they almost wanted to do something with their hands.

They had already discussed the latter part of the plot all night, even deciding what Doji’s child would be named.

Spielberg, who could read, under the eager eyes of his fellow workers, picked up a newspaper from the stand at the door, cleared his throat, ready to read.

But he found it was still yesterday’s.

"Just a moment."

Signaling his fellow workers to be patient, Spielberg changed a newspaper, furrowed his brows, changed another, and found it was the same.

Eventually, he couldn’t help but look at the boss with a scarred face standing by the door.

"Why is it still yesterday’s issue?"

Tang, standing by the door with his arms crossed, watching the scene, chuckled.

"You should be glad you can still see yesterday’s issue; who knows if those guards will come and take it away soon."

The workers immediately became anxious and quickly surrounded him.

"What about the new one?"

"There isn’t any, the newspaper office is gone too!"

"What about the serialized novel on there?"

"Are you stupid? I already told you it’s gone, they’ve closed down, what more do you want? Pick up your cigarette butts and smoke them." Tang cursed as he pushed away the worker standing in front of him, feeling bad because he had been kicked by a guard.

The workers looked at each other in dismay.

"...It’s gone?"

"But why? We haven’t disturbed anyone!" A bearded man clenched his fists, muttering angrily.

He worked diligently every day, serving those factory owners like an ox or a horse. All that he looked forward to in life was now gone. How dare the masters close it?

A worker raised his hand.

"Is there anyone who wants to go to the city hall with me to ask for an explanation?"

People looked at each other, but no one spoke up.

A few months ago, they would have dared to make a scene at the city hall, but the situation was completely different now. Back then, they were protesting against the Alliance’s dumping of cheap industrial goods from Giant Stone City. The factory owners supported their protests, and the owners’ shareholders were influential figures from the Inner City, akin to nobles competing amongst themselves. After all the calculations, even if they had killed Duron, that fool, no one would have blamed them; in fact, they might have secretly given them a thumbs up.

But now, the nobles had reached a consensus. The factories were reopened and were thriving more than ever. The Alliance had borrowed a large sum from Giant Stone City, and as a result, the factory owners received a massive amount of orders. The nobles of the Inner City were also making a fortune, and so were they, as everyone had jobs to support their families.

Life was getting better, and now that bread was so expensive, no one wanted to lose their job.

Everyone felt a bit deflated, and it was then that someone muttered.

"...So we could write the rest of the story ourselves."

The eyes of the people gradually lit up, though they still had some concerns.

"Can you write?" The bearded man looked at the young man who had made the suggestion.

The young man blushed and shook his head.

"I can’t... but it’s not necessary to know how to write before writing something, maybe by writing I will learn? No one is born knowing how to write."

"I remember Spielberg wrote a letter of opinion to the newspaper! ’Worker’s Report’ came after that!"

That was such a long time ago!

Seeing everyone looking at him, Spielberg was momentarily stunned and said with a bittersweet smile.

"I...I can only read, not write very well."

A boiler worker laughed and patted his shoulder.

"No worries, mate, just keep writing the story, and we’ll all help you with ideas."

Spielberg instinctively wanted to refuse, but, seeing those hopeful eyes, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Even knowing it could cause trouble for him, he nodded.

"But we need to change the name... call it ’Worker’s Report.’"

"It’s safer that way."

Everyone said, laughing.

"No problem!"

"You say what you want it to be called."

"We just want to see the continuation of the story!"

It was time for the shift change.

As the bells rang in the industrial district, the workers gathered at the tavern dispersed, heading towards their respective factories.

Walking towards the cannery, Spielberg tightened the collar of his old cotton coat, deeply contemplating the coal ash handprint on his shoulder.

Perhaps operating "Worker’s Report" really was a good idea.

The Alliance’s press had been driven out, but its readers were still here. If he could gather the old issues of "Worker Report," compile the serialized stories into a bound volume, and then continue the series, it could potentially sell out...

At least, it was more promising than working at the cannery.

Spielberg’s thoughts became fervently heated.

Working in Lord Vega’s factory for a lifetime wouldn’t grant him canned food every meal, but continuing the story of "Doji" might just allow him that luxury...

...

Excitement wasn’t just limited to Giant Stone City; just twenty kilometers away, City of Dawn in the North Suburb of Qingquan City was equally bustling.

On Triumph Square, adjacent to North Street, a dense crowd stood pressed together.

More than one third of the entire Alliance gathered here, eagerly anticipating the center of the square.

Others who couldn’t attend were sitting in front of televisions or radios, awaiting the speech of the Manager on stage.

It wasn’t just residents from the Alliance.

There were also residents from Giant Stone City, and travelers from distant provinces like Falling Leaves, Brocade River, Eastern Provinces—even from the far eastern Province of Yúnjiānxíng, all here to catch a glimpse of the legendary Manager.

Most refuge-operated settlements were dreadful.

What was different about this one...

Chu Guang raised his index finger to the side of his helmet, turning on the speaker and removing his facemask in one swift motion.

In that instant, the crowd fell silent out of respect.

Containing his surging excitement, Chu Guang took a deep breath and began the ceremony with a solemn and dignified voice,

"...just last month, we achieved victory in a savage War, and Falling Leaves Province has gained lasting peace because of our arrival."

"We have already cheered for the victory and awarded those with outstanding Contributions and groups. I won’t repeat it here. But I must still thank everyone here and friends far away at their posts—this Light we welcome together."

"Our battlefield is not just in the desert, but also in the forests, the fields, the factories, the stations, anywhere an Alliance Resident sets their eyes... Our unity has forged this invincible chariot, and the spoils of war should rightfully belong to everyone supporting it."

"We are far from the Utopia where we only work one hour a day, but from now on everyone can ponder in their own eight hours how we can be a step closer to it. Of course, this path is bound to be tough—Wasteland won’t end on its own, and you can’t expect to figure everything out lying in bed."

"You must learn from the books of the Prosperity Epoch, absorbing knowledge, experience, lessons on how to improve the tools in your hands and your methods of production, and how to treat all your fellow beings well, doing everything to unite them and create greater miracles together, rather than profiting through exclusion, division, and confrontation."

"We won’t rely on anyone’s moral standards, so we need to develop an increasingly perfect set of rules for the Game, transforming the cruel jungle into a well-ordered village, turning the weed-ridden wasteland into farmland crisscrossed with paths."

"Let evil, cowardice, baseness, cunning, ugliness lose the soil for survival in competition; let all justice, bravery, honesty, self-respect, kindness stand out in our society, rather than relying on people being naturally gentle and humble, or relying on the tall figures among us."

"We must not only end the physical Wasteland but also the spiritual desolation—the invisible but real Wasteland that exists!"

"Victory will eventually belong to us!"

"To all of us!"

The correct scenario for the Call for Victory seemed indeed to be during a speech.

Although Chu Guang didn’t intentionally use that Talent, when he poured all his enthusiasm and focus into his words, he could clearly see the burning desire flickering in every pair of eyes.

They harbored no doubts.

He would fulfill every word he said!

And he made a vow in his heart—

He would not let down those trusting gaze...

"...That was amazing!"

Standing in the crowd, Dolly excitedly began clapping, but after a few claps, Fang Chang took her small hand.

"That’s enough; you only came off the operating table a few days ago, take it easy," Fang Chang said, looking at her with concern.

"Don’t be so rigid, I’ve been better for a while!" Dolly smirked playfully, eyes sparkling, "By the way, cunning Mr. Fang, you’re going to be unemployed soon in the Alliance... Your Manager just said, he’s going to cut off the livelihood of cunning villains like you."

Fang Chang helplessly spread his hands.

"So... my dear Inspector Dolly, under what law of the Alliance has this cunning villain sinned?"

Heaven knows.

He was absolutely the most law-abiding player on the server.

Most players hadn’t even finished the Player’s Handbook, but not only had he finished it, he had memorized Alliance laws and had even participated in legislation as a refugee resident.

For instance, "prohibiting residents from using the resurrection mechanism to profit by donating bodies and organs to non-Alliance institutions" was added to both Alliance law and the Player’s Handbook through his advocacy.

Without such a law, as the number of players increased, someone would have found this loophole to exploit for money, ultimately affecting the experience for most.

Which money to earn and which not to earn, he had a clear scale in his mind. Even if not picky, he was cautious in choosing his means.

Touching his chin with his index finger and thumb, Dolly pondered with a shrewd expression.

"I’ll think about it, and when I find something, I’ll blackmail you... What exactly is an Inspector? Like a guard in the Alliance?"

Fang Chang nervously averted his eyes from her curious gaze.

"Cough, it’s... nothing."

Bad move.

He had let his tongue slip again...

For the remainder of the time, Chu Guang announced a series of measures including "adjusting the twelve-hour workday to eight hours."

Almost every single thing was related to people’s lives and it was also what they cared about the most.

The factory owners of the Alliance had already earned enough profit, and now it was time to redistribute a portion of those profits back to the residents of the Alliance.

If they were unwilling—

The Alliance would rather they took their business to their neighbor!

As Chu Guang announced the plans for the future in his resonant voice, List, who stood among the audience, stared at him unblinkingly, his eyes flickering with indescribable complexity.

In reality, the Alliance hadn’t taken much of his profits.

Even if the minimum wage increased from 1 Silver Coin to 2 Silver Coins, it would have no impact on his factory. He had already raised the workers’ hourly wage to 4 Silver Coins, and for technical staff, even more than 10 Silver Coins.

It wasn’t because he was kind-hearted but because without doing so, he simply couldn’t hire enough people—there were labor shortages everywhere.

Especially during the war period, the heavily focused industries of heavy and military manufacturing, as well as businesses run by residents of the refuge, often paid surprisingly generous salaries. After all, compared to the minimal labor costs, expanding the scale as much as possible whenever there were orders was the utmost priority.

What really concerned him was something else.

If the Manager intended to fulfill his promise of "fairness," then no matter how much money he made, he would never truly become a noble within the Alliance.

However...

That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

His dream was to build a vast Merchants Empire. If his commercial teams could induce even a slight positive change in the Wasteland, it would be ideal, but he had never aspired to become some overarching noble or emperor.

Business is business.

In terms of labor costs, as long as the Alliance applied its rules equally to everyone and everyone’s costs increased simultaneously, he had nothing to worry about.

He would raise prices when necessary, increase production when needed, and decrease production when appropriate. Competing fairly on the same track was fine, and he would also try his best to make the improved model of KV-1 more appealing to the residents of the refuge. Even if the Alliance used the profits of large factories to subsidize some odd small workshops, he didn’t mind; he didn’t think those small factories could affect his sales. If the Alliance wanted them to survive, let them survive.

But he feared that the Alliance’s rules might bend for the "noble class." If that were the case, he would stand no chance.

After all, even a pig, if blown hard enough, could fly into the sky—how could someone within the race track beat a force outside the track?

This was why, once he had earned enough chips, he would definitely spend money in Giant Stone City to buy a noble title.

It wasn’t because he covets the special privileges of the nobility, but because that Black Card could eliminate over ninety percent of his troubles.

But at this moment, the man standing on the stage told him not to worry; the things he feared would not happen in the Alliance.

The Alliance would surely regulate with rules. If they planned to improve labor conditions, they would demand that all factories comply together, and they would never start from outside the refuge.

At the same time, the Alliance would not allow privileges outside of the rules.

On this land beneath his feet, Alliance Money could buy all commodities, but no currency was allowed to trade for honor and dignity.

The residents of the refuge might even set extra rules for themselves, stricter than the law, but they would never seek people’s worship or leniency.

Even though they fought most of the battles and had the most legitimate right to become nobles, when they chose to give up that opportunity, it meant that no one else had the right to become a noble either.

For a moment, List caught a glimpse of a beam of light.

"""But it was the first time that he had conceived an idea beyond making money—that was to let that light shine to even farther places."""

"""Yes."""

"""To make money, he had swallowed a lot of shit, but that didn’t mean the shit was edible, let alone fragrant."""

"""For someone who’d risen from nothing to become ruthlessly successful, there was no greater insult to his character than watching an ignorant pig, sitting on the steps, snorting and smirking with delight."""

"""He didn’t care about the despicable things done by the nobles in the Inner City, just as he didn’t care whether the loot from the Looter was clean or if the meat in the frying pot had a story, but he couldn’t stand those pigs, hooking his shoulder and saying, "We are all the same kind of people.""""

"""By what right!"""

"""That was all he wanted to ask."""

"""Even if the chips in his pocket were tainted, they were still what he had brought back from the hellish Wasteland; they hadn’t done anything, so how were they suddenly the same kind of people as him?"""

"""Looking at those despicable faces, he could only feel disgust deep within his soul."""

"""If it weren’t for wanting to ruthlessly carve a chunk of fat from those pigs, he would’ve broken his Black Card then and there and moved towards that blazing light."""

""""Long live the Alliance!" Amid the wave-like applause, carried away by the atmosphere, List bellowed uncontrollably."""

"""Standing beside him, Qian Duo and Qian Lai exchanged surprised glances, clapping vigorously though unsure why their boss had suddenly acted strangely."""

"""He had told them more than once that they were here at the Alliance to make money."""

"""They seem to have taken his words to heart."""

"""But why does it feel..."""

"""like he himself had got carried away?"""

"""After the Manager declared the celebration started, a tide-like applause instantly filled the entire square."""

"""Standing among the crowd, Alyssa excitedly clapped her tiny hands and stared intently at the man on the stage, then turned worriedly to look at her father beside her."""

""""...Dad, I think what he said is right, we should try to unite the survivors around us, instead of turning them all into our enemies.""""

""""We have always been united.""""

""""But what about the residents of the outer city?""""

""""It’s too late.""""

""""Why?" Alyssa’s eyes widened, and she spoke cautiously with a plea in her voice," I can give up my cloth doll, and a hairclasp worth 1 Silver Coin is actually quite cute...""""

"""She liked that big sister who had complimented her as cute, forgetting at that moment to tell the sister that her smile was also very cute."""

"""However, in Giant Stone City, people hardly ever looked at her, let alone smiled at her."""

"""And even in the Inner City, be it in stores, on the streets, or even in classrooms, the smiles people directed at her often seemed more like a deliberately performed courtesy."""

"""Melvin stared unblinkingly at the stage, his sinister eyes squinting like those of a vulture."""

"""However, when his lovely daughter looked up at him, he somewhat reined in the fierceness about him, softening his tone slightly and speaking with patience."""

""""...You can give up your cloth doll, but you can’t throw away the cloth dolls from the hands of your close friends. My child, I understand your thoughts, you are a kind girl, but the things you mention, kindness alone is not enough.""""

He certainly knew that if the residents of the Inner City ate one less slice of cake, those in the Outer City could have ten more pieces of bread, and the remaining nutrient paste could be used to feed the livestock, making Giant Stone City stronger and eventually enriching the shelves of the Inner City, making everyone better off together.

No one had ever raised this point.

But those who put it into action often ended up losing their "Black Card" and yielding their place to the newly promoted nobles.

Because that logic was flawed from the start.

Why should the residents of the Inner City eat less, and why should those in the Outer City be content with ten pieces of bread?

Once those poor devils got a taste of sweetness, they’d become more aggressive, lazy, and even refuse to work... Similar lessons in Giant Stone City’s brief two centuries of history had occurred, each ending in bloodshed.

He was not uneducated, so how could he not know such childish ideas, but even if he knew, what could he possibly do?

Does the Sun rise because people need to get up?

Of course not!

Human nature is uglier than the Eaters, and the laws of nature do not shift according to the will of people.

To be honest, he hated the guy standing on the stage, and every impractical promise he made caused him physical discomfort.

But he would never show this contempt on his face; work was work, and personal feelings were personal, which he distinguished very clearly.

No more nobles?

Hah.

Just wait and see.

Melvin sneered coldly, going along with the frenzied atmosphere around him, while softly clapping with his naive and adorable daughter beside him.

Yet those lips, dry as "rotten wood floating in a swamp," still moved up and down.

"...the only reason you’re still standing there is because people haven’t yet woken up from their recurring dream of victories. The residents of your closest refuge will wake up first, realizing their cake has been shared with those lowly Hyenas; they will soon know how to use their authority to fiercely regain what was given away... How long can you control them? Haha."

Ah.

He really wanted to see that man’s look of despair.

Involuntarily, Melvin felt envious of his youth again.

Even when he firmly believed that no alliance was unbreakable, he would no longer have the chance to witness its collapse in his lifetime.

That was what he "disliked" about idealists.

Even if they ultimately lose to reality, the flames will burn on their ashes for a while, scorching the eyes of those who have seen them.

If only he had never come along.

Every time he thought of this, Melvin felt as uncomfortable as if thousands of ants were crawling in his heart...

...

The celebration officially began.

As the Manager left the stage, people gathered in Triumph Square gradually dispersed towards the lively streets nearby.

Shops along the street had opened their doors early, pulling out all stops to attract customers in front of them, planning to make a big profit on this bustling day.

"Look, Solar Eclipse, the crowd is growing here..." Frost’s eyes sparkled with excitement, he kept muttering that same line, "This is an opportunity for us!"

Currently, he was wearing a maid’s outfit with a red and black armband around the cuffs that read [Festival Autonomous Management Committee].

A few days ago, the lifestyle players of City of Dawn had planned to select some individuals to maintain order during the festival, especially since the Alliance had no huge walls, it was crucial to watch out for ill-intentioned individuals mixing in.

Drones flying in the sky would mark suspicious targets, and the [Festival Autonomous Management Committee]’s job was to help the guards keep an eye on these suspects while handling emergencies at the festival and assisting the understaffed guard team in resolving minor disputes.

Of course, Frost wouldn’t miss out on such interesting activities, especially since he could also gather precious sociological experience. Consequently, he eagerly dragged Solar Eclipse to sign up.

Although he was not a player, nor a resident of the Alliance, the players gladly agreed because he frequently helped out warmly.

But the players didn’t tell him that only players could receive "regional reputation" rewards, while he would only get a little Silver Coin subsidy.

Not that he cared about the money.

Solar Eclipse gazed bewilderingly at his companion, his eyes full of confusion.

"I don’t understand."

Frost clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction.

"Didn’t you hear what the Alliance Manager said? He said the Alliance does not place its hopes on anyone’s moral standards."

"So?"

"We are not humans! We are AI!" Frost gazed intently at him, "So as long as we prove ourselves competent, the Alliance should make use of us, right?"

Solar Eclipse looked at him bewilderingly.

Yet Frost was unconcerned with his bewilderment, lost in self-indulgence as he watched the bustling street.

Ah...

The intellectual plugin is burning!

He wanted to corral all these organic beings, having people pampered under the meticulous care of mechanical servants, showing spoiled expressions.

Surely then, the whole world would be filled with love and peace!

However, the council had been overly conservative on this matter, only recently passing the Kang Mao Group’s submitted bill allowing androids to participate in public affairs. Whereas, the lovely "blue elves" of the Alliance were more open-minded, often asking them for help on various tasks.

Life here was much more fulfilling than in Ideal City!

As Frost self-indulged, suddenly a cry of "Ah" came from nearby, seemingly near a fruit stand not far from the trading post.

His ears twitched slightly, and Frost’s indulgent expression snapped into alertness; he swiftly looked over, his eyes sharpening.

"Solar Eclipse, it seems someone needs our help!"

Solar Eclipse nodded expressionlessly.

"Hmm, Xiao Qi also asked us to come over... saying it’s in the role of an NPC to mediate, but not to overdo it—"

"What are we waiting for then," Frost rolled up his sleeves energetically, striding towards the crowded people, "Let’s go have a look!"