This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 535: The Lit Powder Keg (Thanks to the "Reincarnation Changes" Sterling Silver Alliance!)

Chapter 535: Chapter 535: The Lit Powder Keg (Thanks to the "Reincarnation Changes" Sterling Silver Alliance!)

"Oh, another big fish has taken the bait."

In a small Western-style house by Rhombus Lake.

Glancing at the fluctuating lines and numbers on the trading device, Fang Chang, who was sitting at the table reading a newspaper, slightly upturned the corners of his mouth.

Just a moment ago, someone had injected five million chips worth of funds into the market.

Though the purchases were made in small orders, he could instantly tell that they were all from the same person.

To facilitate these gamblers playing the zero-sum game and to reduce friction loss of the "chips", he hadn’t even set a transaction fee.

And that young man, who he had known for less than a month, really lived up to his expectations—the S coin trading platform had already attracted a thousand participants.

If his guess was right, these thousand people covered more than half of the nobility in the Inner City and their relatives, most of whom likely hadn’t even read the electronic contract before buying in.

Propelled by the nobles, this easy-to-engage game of passing along the burden was quickly spreading like a chain reaction—to the glitzy Night Queen Bar, pulling part of the stage dancers and wandering mercenaries and traders into the game.

These people were definitely among the high-income groups in Giant Stone City, their pockets filled with chips reaching into the thousands, even tens, hundreds of thousands!

As for the bank clerks, municipal office workers, boutique designers of tailor shops... Although these middle-income groups didn’t possess enough wealth, with savings at most in the tens of thousands, their desire for wealth was astonishingly great.

It was just too bad that there wasn’t much juice left to squeeze out of Giant Stone City, or else the ending would have been spectacular.

As the developer of the trading system, he could see every player’s hand at the table, and he didn’t even need to watch their trading actions to guess.

But to be honest, making money off these people wasn’t very interesting.

After all, it was well known that taking advantage of fools was unethical.

"Wow, how many newspapers did you order?" Noise came from the hallway as Dolly walked in, holding a stack of newspapers.

"I ordered all that I could," he stood up, took the stack from her hands, and smiled, "I’m just supporting Miss Inspector’s career."

"I’m a journalist!" Dolly curiously stared at him, blinking, "Also, what exactly is an inspector? I thought it was a guard for the Alliance, but when I asked around, everyone said they hadn’t heard of it."

Hearing this, Fang Chang’s face turned green, and he nearly choked on his own saliva, coughing twice before saying,

"Cough! You, you shouldn’t ask around anymore! I’ll tell you about it later..."

Help!

He definitely didn’t want to face social death!

Seeing a certain villain pleadingly looking at her, Dolly proudly curled her lips, but she wasn’t ready to let him off yet.

"Pinky promise!" she extended her pinky finger.

"Pi-... Pinky promise." Fang Chang awkwardly extended his hand, but the thought of having to explain it to her later made him blush.

How was he supposed to explain this?

He couldn’t mention another world’s affairs...

He couldn’t say, from a movie... no, that’s too dirty! And data transmission had to be censored, Ah Guang would definitely see it!

Was this really something that had to be made so official?

And even requiring a pinky promise...

However, Dolly was still as easy to placate as ever, her curiosity not stirred by his blushing, and after the pinky promise she contentedly sat opposite him at the dining table, happily digging into her breakfast.

Fang Chang also picked up a baozi and bit into it, calming his overly heated emotions, then his eyes moved to the tall stack of newspapers beside the table, shifting his focus to them.

Speaking of which, "Survivor’s Daily" had recently added several new supplements.

These included "Worker Report", "Agriculture Report", "Fashion Weekly", and more...

The external flow of industries to the Alliance had injected fresh blood, and "Survivor’s Daily" was just a microcosm, also the easiest to visually witness.

The greatest legacy left from the Prosperity Epoch wasn’t the Black Box, but the language of United Human.

Even though the names in the Wasteland were odd, ranging from Table, Chair, Wrench, Hammer to Li Lei and Han Meimei, everyone spoke the same language with only slight variations in pronunciation, thus cultural exchange and the spread of ideas faced fewer obstacles than in the real world.

It was also for this reason that the effects of industrial shifts and the siphoning of population were amplified, a process that should have been slow and enduring, but now was as wild as free falling.

However, he wouldn’t sympathize with those people.

Arrogance is the greatest original sin.

Not only were those nobles arrogant, they were also greedy. A printing press intended to serve over half a million people had become an ATM for a select few VIPs. Despite lacking foreign exchange reserves, they insisted on playing a debt game with the Alliance.

Whom else would you cut if not them?

Perhaps their ancestors had never imagined that the chips originally invented to prevent the wasteland survivors from resorting to barter would be shuffled around like toys by their descendants.

If only the nobles of Giant Stone City hadn’t earned so much base currency and had lent chips to the Alliance while also allocating some silver coins or assets priced in silver coins. It would have been quite difficult for the Alliance to shear them as the bonds of trade would have truly tied both parties together, making them partners in a mutually dependent relationship.

But that is all hindsight now.

From the beginning, the Manager had seen through the essence of these individuals, so he never gave in on the issue of "allowing free exchange between silver coins and chips." Perhaps the bank of Giant Stone City gradually sensed the danger, but merely recognizing it was already too late.

In truth, the benevolent Manager had given them opportunities.

Even until the end, these gamblers had a chance to hit the brakes and stop.

As long as Melvin could keep inflation in check within five years, allowing the Alliance to get through its initial development phase and opening the free exchange between chips and silver coins, the bubbles building up inside the massive walls could have naturally squeezed out. The Alliance, wishing to grow and strengthen, would definitely not play any games of default. Their integrity wasn’t something for the Alliance to judge— that was a matter for the residents of Giant Stone City themselves.

However, the gamblers were too eager to win, and too eager to be the only winners, to the extent that they turned what could have been an ongoing game into a match "determining both hierarchy and life or death."

If it was to be a match, then someone must die.

This was a war, and it had already begun.

However, it was different from a hot war.

Most often, by the time most people realized it, it would have ended silently, and only upon looking back would they gradually understand what they had truly lost in this war.

It’s a pity there weren’t more financial instruments in the game; short-selling chips could have made a fortune.

That way, he wouldn’t only be financially independent in reality, but in the game as well...

"What exactly is this thing?"

Noticing the trading device on the table, Dolly curiously picked it up, stared at it for a while without understanding it, and muttered softly, "You’ve been staring at it since morning."

Without any concealment, Fang Chang, regaining his usual composure, smiled softly as he spoke.

"The tool of a criminal, not for good kids to touch."

"...A tool for crime?"

"Yes."

Watching the puzzled Dolly, Fang Chang continued to tease.

"Like... there’s a ’clearance’ button there. If you press it, a few people in the nearby Inner City will die."

"Want to try it?"

Although maximizing benefits wouldn’t be possible then, as his chips in the Inner City Bank would also be frozen, he didn’t really care about such superficial things.

That plan was just to confirm a suspicion he had in mind.

Winning a beauty’s smile was never unwelcome.

However, Dolly couldn’t smile, instead startled by his words, she carefully placed the dangerous object back on the table.

"Is that... really so terrifying?" Seeing Fang Chang’s light and breezy smile, suspicion gradually filled Dolly’s eyes as she raised an eyebrow.

She always felt that this guy was teasing her again.

"Of course, it’s real, and conservatively estimated... probably more than a few would die."

Stretching out his hand to ruffle her lush green hair, Fang Chang looked into those doubtful eyes and gently smiled as he spoke.

"I haven’t forgotten what those villains did. They dared to bully my gentle, lovely, kind Miss Dolly. Of course, I must make them pay a little price for their impudence."

"...Oh! That’s so cheesy!"

Dolly blushed and jumped to one side.

Although she said that, her heart still involuntarily fluttered with sweetness.

She had decided to move on, yet he still remembered...

Seeing the look in her eyes wasn’t joking, Dolly hesitated a bit and said in a low voice.

"Actually, I don’t hate those people that much anymore, and you don’t have to deliberately take revenge on them. I won’t go back there anyway... But speaking of which, since you hold grudges like this."

"It’s not holding grudges, this is called..." Fang Chang struggled with cheesy lines, thought for a moment, smiled, and continued, "this is called remembering every single thing about you."

A tactic that would earn eye-rolls in the real world unexpectedly worked wonders in the Wasteland.

Dolly’s cheeks immediately flushed red, and she hurriedly picked up her file bag from the chair and dashed toward the door like a startled animal.

"I, I, I’m going to work!"

Watching the clanging entrance door, Fang Chang couldn’t help but smile as his gaze returned to the newspaper in his hand.

When he read about the recent situation in Giant Stone City, he shook his head and muttered to himself,

"These days... there are too many fools, and not enough scammers."

An editor at "Economic News" had made a joke about a neighbor, when a merchant from the Alliance dined in a restaurant in Giant Stone City and discovered that people were paying with paper, he was shocked and asked, "Where are your chips?" The waiter proudly told him, "We now use IOUs," and then pulled out a receipt with a string of zeroes.

The Alliance merchant couldn’t find enough chips even after turning his pockets inside out, so, struck by inspiration, he tore off a napkin, wrote an even longer string of zeroes, and bought the entire restaurant.

Clearly, this was a prank submission by players.

And mostly by players doing missions in Giant Stone City, who got players from the Alliance to submit on their behalf. But it also indirectly reflected what was happening in Giant Stone City. What was even more amusing was that just when they should have been most alert, they ended up stabbing themselves in the back and then buried their heads in the sand like ostriches.

Some residents of Giant Stone City deeply believed in Mr. Hauser’s rhetoric, thinking the noble lords would surely find a way. The Inner City not only had a real research institute but also housed a team of advisors, although they would close the doors and whisper when discussing, so as not to be overheard by the hyenas on the Wasteland.

After a laugh, Fang Chang grew a bit more serious.

An unavoidable issue was that the Alliance still didn’t have a complete "Financial Law"; it only had some similar regulations that other games have in the Player Manual, limiting players from defrauding unjust riches from the Alliance’s NPCs or other players.

But now the game was growing larger, both in the number of players and NPCs rapidly increasing. It was possible that a few black sheep who would attack their own could sneak in and let the Alliance repeat the mistakes of Giant Stone City.

He loved this community more than anyone, after all, he and his friends had fired the first brick here, and the land was soaked with their blood.

For the common good of everyone, he had to do something.

A thought briefly crossing his mind, Fang Chang’s lips curled into a slight smile.

"Speaking of which... Beta0.5 just updated ’Public Affairs.’"

Might as well draft a proposal for the "Financial Law" later...

...

As days passed, December soon arrived.

At least Mr. Hauser didn’t lie about one thing, this year’s winter was indeed not as cold as the previous years. Last year, many died of cold, but this year, no such deaths were heard of.

The cannery had improved its efficiency, a good sign indicating that some survivors from the outer city had become wealthier.

For instance, Melvin had hired a home tutor for his daughter, who recently wore leather shoes made from the Claw of Death.

Since discovering that the Alliance had gifted a Claw of Death to each survivor force that attended the celebration, the enthusiasm of the Inner City Nobles for the Claw of Death suddenly waned.

Perhaps...

Only Ideal City deserved to be their eternal deity in their hearts.

Spielberg couldn’t help but murmur to himself, maybe his novel also needed to keep up with the times, changing the material of the Thousands of Leaders’ shoes from the Claw of Death to something else to highlight the stature of this great person.

How about mutant scalp?

His imagination was lacking.

Apart from the bizarre "Evolutionary Bodies", he really couldn’t think of anything more terrifying and abundant on the Wasteland than the Claw of Death.

In any case, everything seemed to be slowly getting better.

A bit more comfort arose in Spielberg’s heart, perhaps one day in the future, this favor would extend to him as well.

The only thing that saddened him was that this month Lord Weijia tried to fob them off with IOUs again, infuriating everyone so much that even Kent cursed a few times at the shameless conniving merchant, utterly leaving no room for others to live.

Then there was an incident, someone secretly cut the slicer’s thread, and the others were nasty enough to keep silent and pretend not to see, resulting in a whole line of canned goods on their production line being ruined, angling Lord Weijia’s nose out of joint.

The culprit was certainly caught, reportedly because someone had exposed him.

But no matter what, it was also thanks to him that Lord Weijia was slightly more cautious with their attitude. He didn’t default on last month’s interest, although what he provided was just some unsold nutrient paste...

Spielberg felt somewhat disheartened.

He had occasionally fantasized that the boss would give them the spoiled canned goods, but to his surprise, his boss would rather pour those goods out in front of them than share, even instructing someone to urinate on that precious food.

That day, Mr. Hauser’s broadcast included an additional advertisement—Delicious Food Processing Factory would rather destroy its substandard products than allow a single inferior can to flow into the market.

However, the bad news that affected the mood was fortunately only this one, and the good news still outnumbered the bad.

To hear the story of Awakener Bol, more and more of the workers gathered at the entrance of the Walnut Wood Beer Cans.

Not only from Mr. Weijia’s factory, but also from the steel mill, the sawmill, and even engineers from the weapons assembly station... It turned out that those truly educated and good people also loved to hear their stories and expressed sympathy for their plight.

The engineer wasn’t tall, his left eye was an electronic eye produced by Huge Rock Military Industry. He was a generous person, occasionally treating everyone to a drink... though it was only inferior diluted beer.

One day when he had drunk too much, he ranted that if Huge Rock Military Industry ever dared to fob him off with promissory notes, he would definitely not quietly tolerate it; he swore he would add extra gunpowder to every shell and a bit of sticky syrup too.

That was no joke.

At that moment, Spielberg stopped reading the story immediately and covered the engineer’s mouth, hoping he wouldn’t do anything foolish. The early spring Tide was no joke.

The cold winter killed a few destitute individuals at most.

When the warm winter arrived, the next spring would be like hell...

"How wonderful it would be."

After he finished reading the content from Workers’ Post, a young man’s face showed an envious expression, and he couldn’t help but murmur quietly.

"If only we also had a Manager."

He had seen through it.

Those crooked merchants would not willingly take things out of their pockets for them, unless someone pointed a gun at them to force a change.

Hearing the young man’s murmur, Spielberg couldn’t help but curl his lip.

Everyone here had heard him read the reply letter from the editor-in-chief of Survivor’s Daily. Not only had the Manager invited him to visit the Alliance, but he had also promised to let him try on power armor.

Truly a down-to-earth great person.

"After the Tide passes next year, let’s all go there together. I heard the Looters in the North are almost wiped out by those Blue Jackets."

Hearing this, everyone looked at each other and began whispering.

"But I heard they only give silver coins, not chips..."

"What does it matter? I heard the dancers at Night Queen Bar now accept silver coins!"

"Exactly!" a man with a beard grumbled, "No matter what they give, it’s always better than a promissory note!"

Some showed a worried look.

"But what about the Tide the year after? Do we come back to hide?"

The old wrench nodded, saying anxiously.

"I heard the Tide sweeps across the entire Wasteland, leaving no grass in its wake..."

If it weren’t for necessity, no one would willingly leave Giant Stone City—after all, coming back would cost 1-2 chips, depending on the mood of the gatekeeper.

If they weren’t afraid of Variants and Looters outside, they would have become mercenaries long ago, rather than staying obediently in the factory.

Those who stayed were honest people.

They were, generation upon generation.

Spielberg also shared the same worries, which is why he mentioned in his reply letter that he wanted to save up some travel money before heading over.

That twenty to thirty kilometers was not an easy journey, with unknown dangers lurking in the concrete ruins. He hadn’t seen the blood-drinking mutated hyenas, but he had seen Melvin the bank manager head out with a whole troop of bodyguards.

However, at that moment, the engineer who often treated them to drinks just laughed.

"Come on, you all clearly haven’t read the newspaper! I remember Survivor’s Daily mentioned once that those Eaters are some kind of fruiting bodies of the ’Mutated slime fungus,’ and that this fungus has something called self-limitation. Anyway, after expanding to a certain size, it can’t expand further. The Tide in the suburbs probably isn’t as exaggerated as in the city areas. How else would the survivors in the ’North Suburb’ stay alive? They aren’t popping out of concrete cracks."

Everyone exchanged glances upon hearing this, and Spielberg also showed a look of surprise.

This indeed was a gap in his knowledge.

He had always been fixated on the "Worker Report," cherishing it as his own creation, so much so that he forgot there were other publications like "Survivor’s Daily" and "Mercenary Post," which shared common knowledge and experiences from the Wasteland.

Evidently, the engineer from Huge Rock Military Industry was a reader of the main issue of "Survivor’s Daily," and had just read that edition.

Surprise turned into excitement, and Spielberg clenched his fists in excitement as he spoke to the crowd of workers gathered at the entrance of the pub.

"Great! Since the Wasteland isn’t as scary as it seems, let’s all go and see for ourselves when spring comes next year!"

Indeed, it’s good to have a lot of people!

As long as one person is willing to share what they know with everyone, the united workers would grow increasingly knowledgeable, and knowledge is power.

However, at that moment, a group of fierce guards approached from not too far away. Spielberg’s face slightly changed when he saw them.

Leading them was the head of the industrial district guards, Phyllis, followed by the security captain Alec and his "old friend" Kent.

"What are you all doing gathered here? Planning a rebellion?" Phyllis yelled, using his baton to disperse the drunkards loitering at the pub entrance.

Spielberg glanced at the pub owner, Tang, whose face had turned pale, and who shook his head.

"It wasn’t me who called them..."

Before he could finish his sentence, Kent suddenly rushed forward like a hero, seized Spielberg’s collar excitedly, and looked at the security captain Alec.

"It’s this guy! He’s always causing trouble here! Reading his disgusting... whatever story by Bol."

Spielberg flared up, unusually brave, and glared at him as he retorted.

"I read my stuff; was I reading it at your doorstep? How does it bother you?"

Unexpectedly, this coward dared to talk back. Kent was just about to spit at him, but seeing the surrounding workers silently watching him, his courage faltered.

"It does bother! How can Awakeners beat power armor? You’re talking nonsense and misleading people! It’s naive! Vulgar!" Lacking any substantial knowledge, he couldn’t cite any convincing arguments, and could only parrot Mr. Hauser’s words again, then he helplessly looked at Alec.

He swore.

If it was the lord’s secret illegitimate child who thrashed the Alliance’s power armor, he wouldn’t have any objections and would excitedly celebrate... But what angered him was why these damned stories had to cater to what the poor folks liked, why couldn’t they stick to the narratives he preferred?

Kent’s teeth ached with anger.

Alec wasn’t interested in the barking of a few stray dogs; whether it was Kent or Spielberg, they were all the same in his eyes.

Merely helpless wretches.

In a moment, he had to go to the Night Queen Bar to make an appearance for his boss and his boss’s mistress. His drinking capacity was an indispensable amusement at parties, and right now he just wanted to wrap up this affair quickly. So he said softly to Phyllis,

"These people gather and shout every day, and who knows the day our assembly line breaks down, it might just be their bad ideas conspiring together."

"Respected captain of the guard, please handle this."

Phyllis did not respect a mere factory security captain, but Alec’s boss was Wei Jia, whose boss was the renowned Sid.

That man was formidable.

However, he couldn’t just arrest people without cause, as that might lead him to be discarded by the influential as a scapegoat to vent their anger on these poor folks.

So his beady eyes roved, spotting the newspaper on the table, and like discovering a treasure, his voice altered with excitement as he loudly called out.

"What is that?"

Without waiting for an answer,

Phyllis strode over quickly, picked up the newspaper, and unfolded it, his sinister and haughty gaze sweeping around.

As if he held a sword in his hand.

"The Worker Report! The city hall has explicitly banned this!"

"It’s not the old one!" said an engineer who couldn’t stand it anymore, interjecting, "This is a sub-issue of the Survivor’s Daily by the Alliance! They are completely different!"

"Heh, the Alliance, huh... Add a degree to the crime!" Phyllis mockingly glanced at the pale-faced Spielberg and his demeanor turned gradually colder.

"Take this traitor away!"

Several guards stepped forward, disregarding Spielberg’s struggles and shouts. They punched him, then in front of all those present, dragged him away from the entrance of the pub.

Alec casually tossed a 25-value chip to Kent as a dismissal reward, then waved his hand, leading a few muscles from his entourage and departed from the scene.

Kent tensely clutched the chips.

He nodded and bowed to Alec’s receding figure, then looked at the retreating figure of Spielberg and happily cursed.

"Good catch! That damn traitor!"

His voice stood out in the crowd.

Because it was his voice alone.

Kent couldn’t help but panic, instinctively hid the chips in his hand, and nervously watched the pairs of eyes watching him, taking a step back.

"You... what are you looking at me for? I... I’m doing this for your sake! You don’t want to lose your jobs because of that despicable little man—"

"Stop being a hypocrite."

An angry voice interrupted him.

A young man walked out from the crowd, staring at him unblinkingly.

"If given the chance, you would lie down on the ground to lick the shoes of Lord Melvin, even willing to taste his family’s excrement. You have the gall to say it’s for our sake, when in your heart you clearly wish for us all to die, so you can monopolize all the work."

Kent’s eyes widened.

"You, you dare to directly call Lord Melvin by his name!"

The young man looked at him coldly.

"Yes, I said it, and now I’ll say it again. Go call your Lord Melvin to teach us a lesson, better yet, get us all arrested to join Spielberg, since it’s so cold outside, it can’t be much worse than inside, and I could listen to him continue his story. But unfortunately, I guess that lord won’t care about you; after all, a dog only licks its own master, and your tongue is far dirtier than a dog’s."

Kent angrily cursed.

"You’re the filthy one! You, your whole family is rotten!"

The bearded man looked at him, uninterestedly shrugged.

"Just admit it boldly, you only worship the whip in Mr. Stephen’s hand, you neither care about Rudi, nor about Casey, and you couldn’t care less why Bill lost his job. You’ve never loved anyone here, you’re desperate to hold that whip yourself."

Someone in the crowd shouted.

"Hey, pal, he hasn’t heard about Awakener Bol’s story, those names you’re using are all Greek to him!"

That voice quickly received a laughing response.

"Haha, he doesn’t know what Mr. Stephen’s whip is used for!"

"No matter, but we all know who this guy is!"

They had found common ground.

Kent’s eyes widened, nearly popping out.

"You’re talking nonsense! I, I—"

He indeed hadn’t read that newspaper.

And because of this, he felt a pang of inexplicable panic. It felt like being left out of the group, left alone in place.

That damn Spielberg...

He dared, dared to write him into his novel!

Kent didn’t know that Spielberg had never written his name, nor did he have someone like him in his books, but people seemed to recognize him, familiar with him as if they had put his name in for that annoying fellow.

The crowd began to stir.

They seemed to all know what to do next, even though no one had told them, they seemed resolute.

Thinking they were about to gang up to beat him, Kent backed away, his face growing ever more frightened.

The first young man who had stood up looked at him suddenly with pity and raised his right hand.

Kent instinctively raised his arm to parry, but the young man neither hit him nor snatched the chips in his hand, only patted his shoulder.

"Admit it, you love neither Lord Melvin nor Lord Weijia, nor have you ever loved any of us... Your eyes only see yourself, how do you deserve to say ’for our good’? You wish we would all die, and you dream of shitting on everyone’s heads, too bad for you, born straight into a rat hole, 25 chips can’t make you a high-class person, you have to remain a rat in the same nest as us."

People passed by him, unanimously patting his shoulder.

"We won’t blame you."

"Keep it up, Kent."

"You’re doing great."

"Take this big bonus and buy some sweets while you still can, haha."

Kent backed away in fear, his shoulder smeared with motor oil, flour, and a few colorful substances... those came from hands that seemed enchanted.

While holding his chips tightly, he looked at the people moving in the opposite direction and cried out in panic,

"What are you all doing? Stop! Have you... gone mad?"

"What are we doing?"

The young man stopped, turned back to Kent, looked at the coward who almost curled up, and scoffed,

"We’re doing what Bol should do!"

"That guy won’t ignore his fellow workers in trouble!"

"He told us to unite!"

...

"Big trouble now!"

City of Dawn.

In the Manager’s Office at the Alliance Building, the hasty footsteps interrupted Chu Guang’s thoughts, making him put down his pen.

Standing at the door was his appointed head of diplomacy, a young man named Cheng Yan, selected in the same cohort as Sun Ruicai from the Ministry of Finance.

While Shu Yu would have been a more suitable choice for this position, the Alliance needed their best diplomat in Ideal City, and no one was better suited to represent the Alliance at the Supreme Council than that unflappable young man.

Both were directly accountable to him, and Shu Yu himself had no complaints, willing to do anything for the Alliance.

Like Lu Bei, they were the Alliance’s most loyal young men.

"What’s the matter? Don’t rush, take a breath, slowly."

Without blaming his rashness, Chu Guang looked at him earnestly and said,

"It’s Giant Stone City! There’s trouble in Giant Stone City!" Cheng Yan swallowed, hurrying on, "Our embassy sent a message, saying the industrial area workers have surrounded the guardhouse demanding the release of a captured fellow worker or to be imprisoned with them."

Chu Guang furrowed his brow,

"What happened next?"

Cheng Yan replied with a bitter smile,

"Their jail filled up..."

There was silence in the office for a while.

Chu Guang, with mixed feelings, sighed,

"Did anyone die?"

"No... but many were injured, and since the guards in Giant Stone City found our newspaper and a letter from our editor to them, along with a hundred chips in the homes of those arrested, the authorities suspect we’re behind it." Cheng Yan cautiously glanced at Chu Guang, "Our editor mentioned you in the letter... I wanted to confirm, is that true?"

"I told him to mention it."

"I see now!"

Cheng Yan immediately nodded, an expression of understanding on his face.

If it was part of the Manager’s plan, then it was fine.

He had no doubts about the Manager’s correctness, his only worry was the editor of Survivor’s Daily letting something slip.

Seeing the expression on his face, Chu Guang couldn’t help but chuckle,

"This isn’t completely unconnected to us, but it isn’t like you think. A hundred chips to bribe a jail-full of people... Even if I told them, ’I did it,’ would they believe it?"

Cheng Yan replied with a wry smile, "That... I don’t know, but actually, it’s not that serious. I think they don’t intend to blow this up into a big issue, just warning us not to try any more small moves to obstruct them."

Chu Guang: "Then?"

Cheng Yan shook his head.

"Gone."

Gone?

Chu Guang couldn’t help clicking his tongue.

"You look so anxious, I thought he shut down our embassy."

If that were the case, he’d at least respect the nobles for their daring.

Like Yard, who bravely took weapons to the Alliance’s premises to demand justice and was overlooked by Chu Guang, who instead held him in higher regard.

It wasn’t without reason that the citizens of the Honey Badger Kingdom supported him.

But thinking of this, Chu Guang felt puzzled. The residents of River Valley Province were known for their ferociousness, never lacking aggressive Waste Land Wanderers. How could it be that when it came to landlords, from Old Leech to Old Brown, each seemed more spineless than the next?

Cheng Yan cleared his throat and said,

"That shouldn’t be the case. They’re probably worried you won’t pay them back. It wouldn’t add up to just cut ties over a small issue..."

"This is no small matter. As the fuse that sparked this crisis, it’s quite serious."

Chu Guang sighed, glanced at the draft paper on the table, and crossed out the mild measures he had just written, realizing they were no longer applicable.

Honestly, after the celebration, everything had been peaceful, and there were even signs of economic recovery within Giant Stone City. He had been somewhat relieved, thinking it would last until next spring, but then this unprecedented incident happened.

He didn’t want to guess at the conspiracies behind it.

Not all events needed profound reasons—history itself progresses through countless coincidences.

Perhaps it all started with someone who didn’t stub out his cigarette properly, accidentally throwing it into a trash can filled with gunpowder.

Suddenly, Chu Guang remembered something.

"Speaking of which, why did those workers suddenly surround the guard station?"

Hearing the Manager suddenly ask that, Cheng Yan paused and frowned in thought for a moment before answering,

"The person in charge of the embassy there said... apparently, a food processing factory owner bribed the guards to arrest the person who reads newspapers at the Workers’ Association daily."

Chu Guang: "..."

Good lord.

Really?!

After roughly understanding the cause and effect of the situation, Chu Guang felt a complex mix of emotions.

He installed the accelerator in Giant Stone City, and he was the one who pressed the gas pedal first, but he never expected things to spiral out of control right from the start.

His players were all people who could help, immediately stepping in. The Alliance’s NPCs couldn’t hold back and followed up with additional strikes.

But the Inner City nobles, not satisfied with the pace, not only stepped in fiercely themselves but even welded the car door shut. And behind this, it probably wasn’t just the Alliance; other forces were likely fanning the flames and taking advantage as well.

Melvin might be the most clear-headed person there, and one of the few ’good’ ones willing to see the Outer City residents benefit—at least relative to his shareholders.

But it was too late to stop it. He could only poison himself to quench his thirst with the method Chu Guang provided. Ironically, Chu Guang, who first stepped on the gas, now desperately wanted to hit the brakes.

"I hope we can at least survive this winter..." Chu Guang pressed at his forehead and sighed, "Otherwise, the tide in spring will be a big problem."

Cheng Yan was slightly startled.

Due to his job, he had conducted thorough investigations and, with the help of the embassy, had gathered some historical details that even the nobles of Giant Stone City might not take seriously.

In the less than two centuries of history in Giant Stone City, similar incidents had occurred, and in the end, they had always been resolved by those nobles.

Otherwise, the city’s ruler would have changed long ago.

Without any surprise, this time should be the same...

He muttered softly,

"It shouldn’t be that serious..."

—

(Thanks to "Reincarnation Thousand Changes" alliance master and Silver Alliance for their gratuity!!! Big boss is generous!!!)

(Also, just to add, this book will touch a bit on military, economy, culture, industry, infrastructure, technology, farming, daily joys, and player’s adventures. Every settlement and refuge will have different endings; there won’t be two identical or two Giant Stone Cities, Brocade River Province won’t just slap green paint on Luo Xia Province’s map and call it a change. The story is a complete one; after all, it’s not a short video. You like a beauty, and next time only beauties are recommended to you. Also, why do people always try to link Wasteland with reality? They’re not even on the same dimension. I’d rather say this is like a winter home in the Ice Age than weave some seemingly plausible tales.)

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