This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 536: My Son Has Made It!

Chapter 536: Chapter 536: My Son Has Made It!

In the Wasteland, a settlement with over half a million people was quite large, but in the grand scheme of things, it was just that—over half a million people. In a place like Triumph City or Ideal City, a disturbance involving a few thousand people would barely register as a sneeze.

But in Giant Stone City, a place long riddled with deep-seated problems, that sneeze could serve as the fuse that sparked a full-blown crisis, almost blasting its front teeth out...

By noon the next day, Alec, the head of security for Vijia Commerce, was rubbing his booze-reddened nose as he climbed out from a mountain of empty bottles.

Sometimes he felt that he was an Awakener too, just not as obviously so. Once, while following his boss to the "North Suburb," he sat in the lobby of a roadside inn and distinctly saw those so-called Awakeners in Blue Jackets flopping after five or six bottles, unlike him—a bona fide drinker who could handle a thousand cups without faltering.

It was for this very reason that the boss always kept him close by.

On the one hand, his size was definitely big enough to intimidate those undernourished workers; on the other hand, his capacity for alcohol was an indispensable form of entertainment at parties. When the boss and his mistress would start laughing and end up in each other’s arms, he knew to discreetly drink himself into a stupor.

Shaking his groggy head, Alec picked up his clothes that had been tossed to one side and flexed his stiff neck, preparing to head back to the factory to continue sleeping, when the door to his private room suddenly banged open. Phyllis, in a state of disarray, rushed in from outside, followed by Aaron, his expressionless secretary.

"Dammit, what are you, a pig? Sleeping at a time like this!"

Seeing the expression on his boss’s face, Alec immediately realized something was wrong, and, disregarding his pounding headache, quickly asked,

"Boss, what happened?"

"What happened? Do you have no idea what you’ve turned the task I gave you into?"

Watching spittle fly from Phyllis’s mouth as he raged, Alec was puzzled and scratched the back of his head, cautiously responding,

"You mean dealing with that guy reading the newspaper, Spielberg? I’ve already gotten Phyllis to catch him."

Phyllis’s nose seemed to twist with anger as he furiously cursed,

"I told you to grab him, not everyone! Without those poor sods, who’s going to do the work? Do you expect the assembly line to start moving on its own? Or maybe you’ll take over?"

Alec was shocked.

"Impossible! I, I saw Phyllis take away only one person!"

"But now they’re all locked up!" Phyllis bit his teeth with fury, "I’ll have to figure out how to fish them out!"

Aaron coughed softly behind him.

"I’ve inquired, and the workers went on their own accord, claiming they wouldn’t abandon any of their colleagues... That Workers’ Association is the root of all evil. If we don’t find a way to break them up, their numbers will spread like a virus—not just threatening one factory, but all of them."

Vijia Commerce owned not just the Delicious Food Processing Factory but many other related industries.

Phyllis’s face changed slightly.

"We have no choice but to ask Mr. Sid to handle this."

Aaron nodded,

"That’s what I would suggest... Moreover, it would be best to bring some people in from outside the city. They may not be skilled, but the production line can’t stop."

If possible, Phyllis truly didn’t want to have to beg that important person, but this wasn’t something he could handle on his own.

It was like hoarding copper ore to hedge against inflationary risks—when everyone started doing it, the "exploiting a bug" tactic failed, and in the end, only the Alliance’s mines would have the last laugh.

If only one person refused to work, they would simply be replaced, but if everyone went on strike, the threat of termination became a joke... These people were so immoral to resort to such despicable tactics!

Watching his boss’s retreating figure, Alec hurried after, getting dressed as he walked out, muttering to himself,

"Have these people gone mad... marching themselves into jail."

Such a dark, stifling place.

What could possibly be so appealing about it...

...

In the mansions of the Inner City.

Sid sat on the sofa, staring intently at the transaction device, his face switching between joy and furrowed brows of distress; then he would abruptly slap his thigh, cursing profusely before complimenting himself with another slap for a job well done.

His mercurial demeanor kept even the most sycophantic servants at a far distance, except for his wife, who was closest to him.

Looking at her husband seated on the sofa, Bonnie’s face was etched with affection, feeling her husband sometimes acted like a child, seeming to grow younger as days passed.

"My dear," her hand passed over his shoulder, her elbow resting on the back of the sofa as she spoke gently, "You’ve been staring at that all day long. Wouldn’t you take a break to look at me?"

Sid shifted his gaze from the small screen to his beautiful and attractive wife, his stiff facial muscles squeezing out a smile.

"I’m just checking... checking on our son’s achievements."

Bonnie couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.

He hadn’t even noticed that he’d changed his cologne. The palm-sized screen seemed to cast a spell that firmly captured his attention.

Completely oblivious to his wife’s disappointment, Sid was feeling quite smug. Through repeated wave trading and a well-timed increase of 6 million chips, the value of the S Coins in his account was approaching 10 million!

But the investment was absolutely worth it.

Because just now, the value of the S Coins that totaled 10 million in chips had jumped another notch, to 11 million! He had already earned back the additional investment!

A smile was brimming on Sid’s face.

Making money isn’t that hard after all...

Perhaps this was the talent that came with his lineage.

Every time he thought of this, he couldn’t help feeling proud of his son—that rascal had really made something of himself!

Truly his own flesh and blood!

He hoped that Kumarit and Kishu’s relationship could be as close as their fathers’—like his and Melvin’s—and that they would pass on this unbreakable bond.

That’s far more important than building a great enterprise.

A landlord is a landlord because they don’t know how to unite; when the wolf comes, they can only run with tails between their legs. A noble, however, is a noble because the palace isn’t one person’s; even if the wolf comes, it still ends up as just another addition to their meal.

At this moment, the butler approached and bowed slightly.

"Elder, Mr. Wei Jia is outside."

"Wei Jia?" Sid frowned, "What’s he here for?"

The butler bent forward as he spoke.

"He says... he has some business that he must see you about, and it’s very urgent. He’s already waiting downstairs."

Bonnie got up from the sofa and kissed her husband on the face.

"Business is business, whether it’s List or Wei Jia. They’re good people who help us out, don’t neglect them. Go on, I’ll step aside."

Sid nodded and cleared his throat, looking at the butler.

"Let him come up."

"As you wish."

The butler nodded slightly and turned to leave. Shortly after, Wei Jia rushed over from not far away.

Wei Jia’s boozy breath made Sid frown slightly, but he still suppressed the displeasure in his heart and asked calmly.

"What’s got you in such a rush?"

Wei Jia spoke urgently.

"Lord, there’s trouble!"

"Don’t waste words, get to the point." Putting the trading device on the table, Sid glanced at the screen and spoke impatiently.

"I... our factory, all the workers have been arrested!"

Wei Jia’s face was the picture of misery as he recounted the events of the previous day. Sid was stunned for a moment, not quite understanding, and repeated the story, trying to clarify the cause and effect.

"You bought off the industrial zone guard, had that pauper who was reading the newspaper arrested... and then the other workers got arrested too? Just release them."

This shouldn’t be difficult.

Wei Jia said incredulously.

"No... it’s not like that, the workers went in themselves!"

"Idiots!" Sid glanced at him, "What do you care about them for? Let those poor sods stay wherever they want."

"But... the factory is nearly empty, and it’s not just our factory. Elder... one troublemaker is nothing to fear, but a group becomes a carbuncle; this is no small matter! This is a sign of big trouble! We... we must do something." Wei Jia swallowed nervously, trying to persuade him earnestly.

Nearly half the factory is empty?

Sid was startled, becoming cautiously aware of the gravity of the situation.

This wasn’t hard to understand.

Just like the maids in his household, although they often changed, it meant nothing to him; he was a very tolerant person and never tried to retain them, he would even give a speech at their weddings.

However, if all the maids were to resign, he definitely would not accept that because he couldn’t possibly let male servants with dirty hands comb his wife’s hair, could he?

"Talk about your plan."

Wei Jia said patiently.

"I’ve investigated deeply, and it all started with a guy named Spielberg, that troublemaker who reads the newspapers, he established a Workers’ Association... that thing is the root of all evil."

"And what exactly did he do?"

"For now, he hasn’t done much... no, that’s not right, I can’t say he hasn’t done anything—"

"Enough, enough," Sid interrupted his roundabout speech impatiently, "A cockroach, just kill it and be done with it."

Wei Jia was startled by these words and quickly said.

"But... no, my lord, we can’t do that! Stepping on a cockroach is easy, but its eggs will scatter everywhere—even if we’re going to kill him, we must do it quietly, without causing a stir."

Sid was amused by this coward’s remarks.

A joke.

He, a nobleman, since when did he have to explain why he had killed someone?

Even if he had to provide a reasonable explanation to appease the anger of the Outer City, that was Duron’s problem to worry about; what else was he keeping that dog for?

However, seeing Wei Jia’s pleading look, Sid thought about it and decided to let it go.

Turning his gaze away from the coward before him, he looked at the trading device on the table and said indifferently.

"Alright, I’ll make a call later."

Wei Jia asked cautiously.

"Who are you planning to hand it over to?"

Sid replied impatiently.

"Find a convict to take care of that Spielberg, no need for our own people."

He had a sense of proportion with these details and wouldn’t light a fire to the house directly like Kumarit and Kishu, those inexperienced young guys.

Finding a desperado in the Wasteland was too easy, the people willing to work for him could line up from his feet to the gates of the huge wall.

"It’s Spielberg... I know you wouldn’t make a mistake, this is just to be safe," Wei Jia cautiously reminded him.

Although this wasn’t the best method, he was more inclined to bribery and divide and conquer, but his boss didn’t seem to want to bother with such troublesome matters.

Actually, it wasn’t unacceptable.

Just let the lord handle it.

Seeing that Sid seemed uninterested in talking to him, Wei Jia murmured to himself about planning to resign but then noticed the lord’s eyes fixed on the screen on the table.

He had seen something similar in the hands of his own son, supposedly bought at the insistence of Kumarit and Kishu—a thing called S Coin.

Although he scoffed at it, he didn’t prevent his son, instead giving the little rascal a large sum of money. After all, Sid was his master, and Melvin was the master’s friend. Even though S Coin didn’t sound smart, pleasing these two important figures was a smart move.

But what he hadn’t expected was that the renowned Sid was also playing it, and seemed to be having a lot of fun with it—his breathing and heartbeat even syncing with the fluctuations of those lines...

Intuition told Wei Jia this was not proper, but it wasn’t his place to interfere.

"My lord... What is this thing? It looks pretty novel," Wei Jia pretended to be seeing it for the first time, asking out of curiosity to please him.

With common ground established, Sid indeed regained interest in him, turned to look at the increasingly old hound, and spoke enthusiastically.

"S Coin! I’ve made a million—cough, even the maids who comb my wife’s hair have made a million chips, it’s a really good investment, even those with little education can make a fortune."

It wasn’t dignified for a noble to personally make chips, just yesterday while chatting with his wife he remembered that this seemed to be an ancestral instruction.

But it didn’t matter, after all, he and the guys had always been dignified, being able to do so without consciously remembering, following rules without stepping out of line.

Seeing Wei Jia’s face brimming with interest, he decisively took out an unregistered trading device and placed it in the hands of this loyal servant.

"Take it, play around when you have time. You need to keep up with the times to keep up with the rhythm of the young people. My friend, the times have changed, the old ways of making money won’t work anymore," he said.

"I hope that one day, you can become a true noble."

With both hands, Wei Jia received the transaction device, tears streaming down his face, not because of the generous Lord Sid’s willingness to make money with him, but because of Lord Sid’s term "friend."

Friend...

What a beautiful word!

It had been such a long time since he’d heard Lord Sid call him that affectionately.

His money, his collectibles, the women he liked – whatever Lord Sid wanted, he could offer generously, just like his ancestors had done.

However, Lord Sid would rather call List, that stray dog from outside, "friend" multiple times, but refused to call him a friend... even though they were in the same gang! They had grown up together!

But today!

He’d heard that long-missed, affectionate term once again!

It was worth it!

"I will always remain loyal to you... my lord," Wei Jia’s eyes brimmed with tears, and he unconsciously clenched his fists, "I, I will definitely repay you!"

"Why talk such cheesy stuff," Sid glanced at him sideways, waved his hand in good spirits and said with a smile, "Go on down, don’t forget the real work."

"Yes..."

Wei Jia lifted his sleeve and secretly wiped away his tears.

Bowing out of the living room, he followed the butler onto the elevator.

Not until he left the building and returned to the sides of his secretary, Aaron, and bodyguard, Alec, did he retract the tears and joy that coursed through the wrinkles on his face.

Aaron said nothing, and Alec scratched the back of his head, not understanding why his boss’s eyes bore tear marks... He had never seen tears on the face of this big crocodile.

Wei Jia remained silent, simply gestured with a wave of his hand, and led the two men silently away from the Inner City.

Stopping at the border of the Inner and Outer Cities, he looked up at the bustling street not far away, and silently drew a cigarette to his lips from within his chest.

Alec immediately pulled out a gold-trimmed lighter, ready to please his boss by lighting it for him, but was pushed away by Wei Jia.

"Get lost."

Wei Jia cursed and fumbled in his pocket for a box of matches, scraped them a few times until they lit, and lit the cigarette himself.

In the puffs of smoke, the flickering light of the flame was intermittent.

The sharp smoke blurred the bustling street, as if the whole world was soaked in it, yet it seemed only he was anesthetized.

Is this... the Wasteland?

Looters wouldn’t dare to eat people here, mercenaries wouldn’t dare to be brutal, and no two-headed Hyenas could enter, only docile cats rubbing against the shoes of beautiful girls.

Pity he had never been to the paradise of two hundred years ago; he had no idea what a real Utopia looked like... If only there were a way to see it, just once.

Wei Jia squinted, took several harsh pulls from the cigarette, then threw the half-smoked stub onto the ground and crushed it under heel.

Alec dared not make a sound, holding the lighter, and timidly watched his boss.

The boss was acting out of the ordinary today.

He never lit his own cigarettes, and certainly never stomped out any stubs.

"Aaron, we’ve lost."

Staring at the place where the sky met the colossal wall, Wei Jia suddenly said this.

Aaron was slightly stunned, then understanding the look on his boss’s face, fell into silence for a moment and nodded without a word.

They had lost, hadn’t they?

He thought the boss had realized last month, but even the cunning Mr. Wei Jia had moments of obliviousness.

Alec felt panic for no apparent reason; he couldn’t understand what the two were talking about, and had no idea what they had lost or to whom.

"Boss... what’s wrong? Did Spielberg, that bastard, upset you? I’ll go teach him a lesson for you!"

"Spi... ha, what is that thing, worthy of being compared to me," Wei Jia shook his head, mocking himself, "I just now came to my senses, this damn thing is a war."

"War, a war?" Alec was stunned and then furrowed his brow, "You mean... the Alliance is behind Spielberg stirring up those workers?"

Alliance?

Haha.

How naive, still wanting to lose with a little dignity in the end.

Wen glanced at his own dog, originally wanting to mock him for a bit of amusement, but soon realized that essentially, there was no difference between them, and he lost interest with a shake of his head.

"Right, war, if you can’t understand what ’our war with the Wasteland has never ended’ means, then just think about it however you can."

"This is war, it’s our war with the Alliance, the bumpkins from North Suburb and the Blue Ground Squirrels just couldn’t hold back any longer and have started to attack, and it actually began a month ago at the festival. They sneakily hid artillery shells among the fireworks, and our esteemed Mr. Melvin and Lord Sid were even eagerly attending their birthday celebrations... Oh, I’m such a fool, only now do I realize that I, a person of status, have actually become entangled in a fool’s trench warfare."

How ironic.

He’d been clever his whole life, but it was only after he’d already lost that he finally saw everything clearly.

In fact, they had a chance to prove something to the Wasteland.

If only Melvin had discussed things with him from the start, but sadly, he couldn’t be bothered to engage with his own pug.

If only Elder Sid had slightly appreciated his loyal old dog, but alas, the great man increasingly looked down on the old servant’s capabilities.

If only Spielberg and those "workmates" had been a little more mature and understood the bigger picture, even if the puppet Duron had taken a little more care to keep them happy, even if the foolhardy Haus had just used a bit of brainpower to properly craft a deception before attempting to cheat...

Of course, he wasn’t a pure lotus flower himself, nor a good person; if he had eaten a little less, he might at least have survived until next year’s Tide.

But what’s the point?

The Wasteland wouldn’t end just because one survived a Tide.

And who in this city isn’t a gambler?

The nonsensical Haus must know that those poor devils couldn’t possibly develop diabetes. Perhaps he’s just lost his temper and is intentionally making trouble with a loud voice.

Durant from City Hall must know that his old partner banker Melvin is engaged in an extremely dangerous gamble. But if the poor have work, they won’t bother him, and the nobles would just scapegoat him like they did five years ago, so instead of turning a blind eye, he’s actually eager to help Melvin...

In the end, the one truly working for the good of Giant Stone City turned out to be the dumb Jaeger, mocked by both nobles and paupers alike. Although he wasn’t well-intentioned and only aimed to replace his immediate superior Duron as the one holding the whip.

And Melvin must know, too, the man sitting before him was an extremely dangerous and fierce person, who had made several Ten Thousand Leaders of the Army flee in panic.

On Wen’s face, there was no regret, only a faint smirk at both himself and everyone else in this city.

Unfortunately, this digital game that is coming to a close has absolutely nothing to do with mathematics.

Their opponents are not clever, even clumsy, and they still need to borrow a few cards from their hands.

Perhaps the fool would actually do better because, after all, the fool has endless strength during tug-of-war, while smart people have too many options.

Aren’t the Weilante People doing quite well?

If not for the Giant Stone City’s factories, businesses, and economic diplomacy, relying solely on the Alliance and the desperate Blue Jackets would never have been enough to win, at least not this easily.

Of course, Wen doesn’t deny that the latter is the most crucial factor; everything else is just icing on the cake.

"...I think you might be overthinking it," Alec said cautiously, "our weapons stockpile and scale are still above the Alliance... We can flip the table at any time, they wouldn’t dare to fight with us."

Haha, weapons? Flip the table?" Wen couldn’t hold back his laughter after all. Looking at the confused Alec, he teased, "No wonder you’re one of my raised dogs. I expect the production line to start up by itself, and you damn well expect the table to flip over by itself, you’re really a bloody genius!"

War is not a joke. The Alliance has already shown them once what total war is all about.

The entire Alliance was united in solidarity, everyone banded in one effort, abandoning all illusions, those with strength contributed their brawn, those with brains offered their intellect.

Their Managers not only boosted morale with war mobilization speeches in the most simple language, telling the people of the Alliance why we must slaughter a hungry wolf, why we should go do it, and why we will win, but they also personally led the Residents of the refuge into the front lines.

Of course, their opponents were not vegetarians either.

The Army did not dare to escalate the scale of the war, but those Weilante officers also went to the front, or else their Ten Thousand Leaders would not have been captured by the Alliance one after another, and Griffin wouldn’t throw down a second card after every setback in battle.

And Giant Stone City...

Thinking of Elder Sid leading the charge, imagining those Militia Group lords who’d rather assign all their Work to the Mercenaries than to step foot on the front lines, Wen couldn’t imagine that scenario.

Besides, their Mercenaries had already fought with the bumpkins from the North Suburb. They were outfitted with the best gear and took the most brutal beatings, back when there wasn’t even an Alliance to speak of, with the bumpkins mostly wielding outdated pipe rifles.

Trying to force a mobilization without the ability to inspire is like unplugging life support in an ICU.

Never mind getting everybody to flip the table, the last person who dares not flip the table is Lord Sid himself. Fortunately for him, this old dog had enough time to "prepare for a rainy day."

Yes.

Wen had already planned to run.

In truth, he was the one who could least bear to leave Giant Stone City. Here, apart from the wives and children of other nobles that he dared not meddle with, he could do anything he wanted, while the Wasteland outside had little to do with someone of his stature.

Initially, Wei Jia could not understand List’s choice; the Alliance clearly would not love him, yet he insisted on sucking up to them. He understood even less why Fred would sell his factory, and clearly at a price much lower than its worth.

But now he suddenly understood.

He knew he was no good; if Elder Sid was as slick as oil, then he himself was black with soot, but in the end, he was a bit smarter.

After all, he knew to use his chips to curry favor with Elder Sid, while his Elder Sid expected to use the chips he contributed to tie him down in return... It was such a pity that, in the end, the great man never knew what he truly wanted.

What he wanted was love.

To be loved.

He might be greedy for money, but he had not lacked it for eight generations. He racked his brains to get that Black Card, wasn’t it just so that his childhood friend, Elder Sid, would look at him more highly?

Yet he felt like he was still a dog, born as one, with generations before him as dogs, and now with a tighter chain.

Perhaps List was right; true dignity was not about indulgence in pleasures, but about honor. It wouldn’t make a person elegant and proper, but it would stop them from being an animal and instead, a person with societal attributes.

In the Wasteland where people were tormented into ghosts, that was something no amount of chips could buy. Deep down, people longed for it, willing to die for it, yet Elder Sid had monopolized it all.

Poor Sid...

Wei Jia did not want to give up on that old buddy.

But as the ship was sinking, it was finally time to say goodbye.

To hear a "my friend" at the end,

he was content.

Glancing at Alec, who was still not over the shock, Aaron walked up to the boss’s side and asked in a very soft voice,

"Should we contact that guest from the North?"

"Let’s make contact... Yes, I’ll talk to that great man myself. After all, there’s too much ’merchandise’ to sell, and it’s not something you can pack up and take away in a day or two. Right, you have to do something for me; Spielberg can’t die, not a single person from the Workers’ Association can die, so that we can rightfully do those things."

Wei Jia pondered for a moment, then suddenly remembered something. His gloom swept away, he smiled, hooked his arms around the shoulders of his two subordinates, and gave them a hard pat.

"Ah, don’t worry... After this, I’ll double your pay. But in the future, we might have to pay wages in silver coins, so you two should be a bit psychologically prepared."

Alec looked somewhat regretful, but then brightened up after a second thought.

This wasn’t so bad, after all.

The dancers across the street had already started accepting silver coins, and some people had even started a side business in currency exchange.

Aaron, however, said nothing.

After all...

Wasn’t this to be expected?

...

Industrial Zone.

At the entrance to the Incredibly Powerful Steel Mill, Fred looked at the three bosses from the Alliance who had arrived at the door and said with regret,

"Sorry, you are a step too late. The production line you’re talking about... We’ve already sold it off a while ago."

Staring at this guy who looked like he just stepped out of a meme, Night Ten froze on the spot, like a startled ground squirrel.

"Ah?!"

A few days ago, Brother Fang Chang had his eye on this steel mill supplying to Huge Rock Military Industry, and they hurried over from the City of Dawn after finishing their own affairs.

To their surprise, someone was even faster than damn Fang Chang!

This was just too inconsiderate!

Old White furrowed his brows and asked Fred,

"Would it be possible to tell us who the buyer is?"

He still wanted to give it another try.

"...Sun Steel Factory. The person who came to talk was a guy named Sun Shiqi, who seems to be one of your Alliance’s bosses, too. He’s a strange one, wanted to take the workers too and was even willing to pay me off for the IOUs I fobbed off on those people."

Fred was also puzzled internally, thinking that he acted too soon; if he had waited for these people to arrive, he could’ve driven the price up some more.

Selling those devices for forty million in chips, the direct benefit he got was only two million silver coins.

It was a total loss!

Night Eleven cursed with a pained expression.

"Dammit, someone beat us to the punch!"

If it were NPCs from other factions, we might have tried to persuade or bribe them, but with the Alliance’s NPCs... in Brother Fang Chang’s words, it wasn’t worth the risk.

Even to avoid suspicion, it’s best not to touch them if possible.

After all, the Player Manual clearly states that using the trust Alliance Residents have in Refuge Residents for illicit trading, involving a significant amount of money, will prompt the "Faction Boss" to personally adjudicate. Serious cases will be sent back underground.

According to the game setting, we swore allegiance to the United Human flag before we set foot on this land. It’s okay not to work, but screwing over our own people would surely earn us a "slash".

"Don’t worry, my production line isn’t limited to just that one; I’ve got plenty of good stuff," seeing the client’s eagerness, Fred’s eyes twinkled as he pushed his sales pitch with a heh-heh, "Plus, I can hook you up, introduce other sellers interested in offloading devices."

If the price is right, he might even help with the negotiation.

Old White didn’t beat around the bush and simply brought out the list from Fang Chang.

"I have a list here. Can you contact the heads of the factories on it?"

"Let me have a look, huh? This list seems somehow familiar," Fred stroked his chin, then suddenly realized, inhaling sharply as he eyed the three in front of him, "Shit, what the hell... everything here is from Huge Rock Military Industry’s suppliers! What are you trying to do?!"

Night Ten coughed to signal him to keep it down.

"A coincidence... We’re interested in their civilian production lines; the Alliance recently needs a lot of cement and rebar."

Fred looked at him as if he were an idiot, it was almost as if "You think I’m a moron?" was written on his face.

Old White, however, couldn’t be bothered to explain and got straight to the point.

"Yep, that’s what we want. If you can close the deals according to the list’s quotations, we can offer you fifty thousand silver coins in commission."

Fred showed hesitance on his face.

After a moment of hesitation, he shook his head.

"That’s too little! That’s Mr. Yibosi’s turf you’re talking about. You might not know, but he’s directly responsible to the city lord, and even the big players from the Inner City don’t want to mess with him, it wouldn’t be right for me to help you—"

Old White continued without changing his expression.

"Fifty thousand silver coins per acquisition project—straight to your personal account. You do the talking for us, and we give you a 20% commission from the budget we save."

Upon hearing this, Fred’s face bloomed with joy, nodding eagerly as if afraid they would change their minds.

"Deal! No problem!"

Hooking people up was a piece of cake for him!

He glanced over the quotation list; the Alliance bosses’ prices were remarkably generous.

In other words, he had a lot of room for negotiation, to sell off that "junk" at prices everyone would be thrilled with.

"Hey, why’s it so quiet around here?" The deal was clear, and Night Ten’s gaze fell on the factory behind Fred, his expression a bit odd.

He had heard from Fang Chang that this was one of the largest steel mills in Giant Stone City, but it didn’t seem very populated.

Fred coughed, glanced around, and said in a low voice.

"You don’t know, something happened yesterday... the prison’s full now."

Night Ten smelled gossip and immediately perked up, his curiosity piqued.

"What happened?"

"The cause... I heard it was over at Delicious Food Processing Factory, where a worker stealthily unscrewed the threads from a cutter, and he happened to be a member of the Workers’ Association, so you know? In the end, Wei Jia got angry. When he followed the trail, it turns out that the ’boss’ of the Workers’ Association was also from his own production line..."

Watching the three baffled Alliance managers, Fred said with a hint of regret.

"I guess those poor devils tried to get Wei Jia to give them the defective canned food by that method, but sadly they weren’t too smart about it—Wei Jia is a notorious miser. But you can’t blame Wei Jia, if something happens once, it will happen again; if I were Wei Jia, I’d do the same. One must never let those who reap without sowing get a taste of success!"

Wild Wind stared at him, caught between laughter and tears.

"Reap without sowing, huh..."

Night Ten sighed.

"Not bad for the Wasteland... Man, this is seriously messed up!"

The two were speaking in a language from another world, which Fred couldn’t understand, but he had the feeling they weren’t complimenting him.

Old White, being a straight shooter, couldn’t help but say in United Human tongue,

"Have you ever thought about improving their conditions? What do you mean you don’t blame Wei Jia? If that idiot didn’t take things to the extreme, would his people be content causing trouble for themselves?"

Although the game was virtual, the Wasteland was fraught with terrible things, and compared to those slave traders, Petty businessmen didn’t amount to much.

But he came from a country where social ideals were valued, and he was extremely loyal to his faith, so he naturally felt physically uncomfortable seeing the merchant’s face.

The Bull Horse Brick Factory was named after cattle and horses, but that was just banter among the four close brothers, and everyone knew very well that the real beasts of burden were none but the four owners themselves.

Even when the Alliance was at its poorest, they’d rather get by on nutrient paste and horned potatoes and use the 5 copper coins saved to buy fish for those not-so-sharp NPCs, even if some of them were actually their captives.

Fred couldn’t understand these inexplicable fellows either and simply gave them a puzzled look.

"Improve the conditions of those poor buggers? That doesn’t seem quite right. If you’ve ever done business, you should know those beggars aren’t good people. They will do everything they can to cheat and be slippery. Be even a little nice to them, and they’ll walk all over you. Plus, people get sleepy when they’re full... ah of course, I’m not saying what you’re doing is wrong, just that we have different ways of managing."

Night Ten couldn’t help but swear, "What a joke, you already treat them like enemies, why should they play nice with you!"

Seeing the three clients’ faces growing darker, Fred quickly realized he had put his foot in his mouth and changed the subject to avoid any disagreement.

Since he couldn’t gauge what these guys were thinking, he didn’t have the nerve to suggest they drink together later that night. Taking the list, he found an excuse to busy himself with urgent matters.

He just wanted to sell his goods for a good price.

While he still could.

That was all.

Watching his retreating figure, Night Ten suddenly sighed.

"What bothers me is that those bastards run off and live more comfortably than the people working under them... And we still have to give him silver coins to bring us clients, damn it, shit!"

The money’s gone to the dogs!

"That’s the money for his coffin. If he stays honest, like Old Brown and lives out the rest of his days, no problem. But if he can’t keep his hands to himself, not only plans a comeback but also tries to bring Giant Stone City’s practices to our place, we’ll justifiably bankrupt him. I remember the Manager saying he would let better people win out in competition, and I believe him."

Old White squinted his eyes and continued watching the man’s back.

"These fleeing scum could be a threat; we need to keep a close eye on them, wary they might secretly enslave our fellow men on our turf."

There had been instances where newbies were deceived by NPCs, although those newbies couldn’t wait to brag on the forum, and the scam was quickly exposed.

It’s quite a challenge for NPCs to scam players.

An idea struck Night Ten.

"How about we write up a proposal? Nail his coffin shut so he doesn’t get any chance to rise again!"

The law restricting organ trading had been initiated by the beta testers themselves, with a comprehensive legal system from Earth to refer to, plus Brother Fang Chang’s guidance, Professor Yang’s clever suggestions, and the Proud Brothers’ nitpicking, they always managed to put together rules that suited the harsh reality of the Wasteland.

Not just for players but also for NPCs.

Since Beta 0.4, they had realized that the Alliance was no longer the small village it once was; they couldn’t always rely on the Waste Land Wanderers’ loyalty to the Manager.

Take Fred, who was willing to sell even his soul for example.

The concept of loyalty didn’t exist in that guy’s dictionary; for the sake of profit, not only would he twist black into white, he was even willing to kiss the Manager’s boots on the ground.

As the Alliance grew larger, more and more people like him would appear, and they would become increasingly secretive and harder to distinguish.

These Hyenas acting meekly could not be eradicated by guns and gallows alone.

Wild Wind nodded in approval.

"Agreed."

It was rare for that kid, Night Ten, to come up with a mature idea.

This idea was definitely more grown-up than sniping from rooftops...

That’s my boy.

He’s really coming into his own!