This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 552: It Would Be Better for Us If You Were All Dead

Chapter 552: Chapter 552: It Would Be Better for Us If You Were All Dead

"Dove-type missiles annihilated 12 targets with a single shot, and X-16 wiped out 11, taking less than a minute... If you can help me collect enough AI cores, I could even build you a bionic man team for less than one million silver coins each, think about it?"

Atop the giant wall.

Overlooking the slum, Yibers watched with a schadenfreude grin, babbling assessments.

He used to stand here watching the organics duke it out from afar, at most selling them weapons they could afford.

Now he was finally able to join the fray.

He was very satisfied with this new shareholder who had brought profits to Huge Rock Military Industry and enjoyed watching the organics court death in various ways—one of the few pleasures and the very purpose of his existence.

He had none of the multifarious desires of humans, and he was far less interested in human ways of alleviating loneliness, such as consumption, reproduction, arts, philosophy, etc.

In the dilapidated alleys, shadows began to retreat as the gang members scattered, their courage shattered by X-16’s sudden descent into the battlefield.

A few Male Bee Assault Rifles were their only heavy firepower, and at best a couple of cheap RPG Rocket Launchers; most gang members had nothing more than pistols and iron pipe rifles, no match for X-16.

They never imagined they would face bionic men from Huge Rock Military Industry.

In the memory of most gang members, the towering walls never struck at them, the vermin of the gutters, because there was no benefit in doing so.

They couldn’t fathom why they would be targeted by a missile from the heavens, nor comprehend why the respected Mr. Yibers would dispatch his costly bionic men here.

Their lives combined weren’t worth as much as that thing’s!

Human life is too fleeting.

So fleeting that what has become habit is taken for granted.

Almost no one remembers that a century ago, Giant Stone City did strike a heavy blow against them.

"Those little mice have retreated..." Looking down from the wall, Yibers grinned widely, "Speaking of which, how are you considering it?"

No response.

Left hanging for quite some time, Yibers looked back only to find the person gone, slightly startled, then shook his head with a chuckle.

"Such an impatient fellow."

...

[Hidden Quest: Disclose and Destroy the Gang Stronghold (Completed)]

[Summary: A welfare house disguised as an abandoned building, but actually a lair where gang members breed and trade slaves.]

[Reward: 300 Contribution Points, 1000 Region Reputation, 599 silver coins]

[New Mission Alert: Investigate the basement of the welfare house, wait for Alliance Army to arrive (In Progress)]

A damp and chilly basement.

Along the narrow corridor, there were twisted and crooked cells.

Hearing the sound of the door opening and footsteps at the entrance, there were rustling noises in the cells, with faces pressing curiously against the bars to look out.

Boys and girls, the oldest sixteen or seventeen—considered adults in the Wasteland—and the youngest six or seven, children wherever you go.

This was a different scene from the dungeons in Looter’s den.

To get a better price for the "commodity," the gang members generally did not abuse them.

According to Horacca’s confession, most were orphans, some sold here by their families, others collected by guys like Miles.

Most people in the slum knew of such a place but no one interfered. Even if the trouble was right under their noses, not everyone encountered it. Without those "order-keeping" gang members, the situation in the slum might get even worse.

After all, it’s the Wasteland.

Compared to dying of hunger or illness, the few who were sold were nothing, and oftentimes, prostitutes needed such a place too, to deal with the troublesome offspring they did not wish for... of course, that’s what Horacca, the NPC, claimed to clear her name.

Weapon holstered.

Feng Qing walked down the narrow corridor, catching sight of a young, innocent face with big round eyes watching her.

The little girl, about eleven or twelve, had a dress made from a grayish flax cloth wrapped around her.

Stopping in front of the bars, Feng Qing leaned down with her hands on her knees and smiled amiably at the big-eyed little girl.

"What’s your name?"

Perhaps because she seemed approachable, the little girl wasn’t scared of her, and in a crisp, pleasant voice, she said.

"Citrus!"

"Citrus... that’s a nice name."

Little Citrus cocked up her mouth proudly.

"Mmm-Hmm, Sister Horacca gave it to me!"

"Sister Horacca... is that the sister outside with freckles by her nose?"

"Yes!" Little Citrus nodded energetically and happily said, "I heard there was once a Citrus, a big Citrus, but she got adopted by good people, so the name was passed down to me."

It was clear she loved the name, and she didn’t dislike the person outside at all; she even regarded that person as a mother.

Feng Qing felt a tinge of sadness.

Maybe it was because the NPC here seemed even more human than actual people, the Game always managed to be exceptionally realistic in the most unexpected places.

"How long have you been living here?"

"About a month... maybe?"

Citrus tilted her head; she wasn’t quite sure how long she had been there since it wasn’t usually occupied.

Maybe?

Citrus murmured, continuing to speak softly as she recalled.

"We used to live upstairs, and only children who did something wrong would be brought down here... But then, Sister Horacca said that the bad people from the Alliance were coming to take us away and eat us. But she told us not to be afraid, she would protect us, and asked us to hide down here, not making too much noise."

Listening to the innocent voice, Feng Qing found it somewhat bittersweet.

Bad people, huh...

But it makes sense.

There wasn’t the convenience of the internet in the Wasteland.

Who knows, maybe to those far south or west of the Great Desert, the Alliance symbolizes evil itself.

Seeing the sister in front of her remain silent, Citrus tentatively continued in a low voice.

"It’s stuffy in the basement, and I don’t know when the Alliance will leave... Sister, are you planning to take me away?"

She felt this sister was not bad.

Pretty and well-dressed.

"Do you want to come with me?"

"Um! Sister Horacca said that everyone will be adopted, the sooner the better, it gets very troublesome if it’s too late, so we must behave when outsiders come," with someone willing to adopt her, Citrus’s eyes twinkled, and she earnestly extended her little hand, counting on her fingers, "I can sweep the floor, mop, clean windows, and also wipe the tables..."

Seeing her counting on her fingers, Feng Qing felt a tightening in her heart, but she still managed to smile and softly praised.

"You’re amazing, not like sister who can only recite poems."

"Poems?" Citrus tilted her head.

"Yep!" Feng Qing gently touched her head, "I’ll teach you when we get out."

She knew many poems, not just those few lines etched for fun on airplanes.

Back at the entrance to the basement.

She glanced at Horacca, who was tied up next to the cage, and Feng Qing sighed, saying,

"You know, you might as well go down and repent."

Horacca’s face was pale as she pleaded,

"Don’t, don’t kill me... I’ve confessed everything, I was forced, if I didn’t work for Mr. West, I would have been sold to the Looters."

"That kind of thing you can argue with the judge."

Feng Qing glanced outside the corridor window.

Not far from the courtyard gate, two wheeled armored vehicles were parked, their 20mm heavy machine guns emitting a chilling gleam. Well-trained soldiers quickly took control of the area, working in groups of four with the help of small drones to search for traces of armed militants door to door.

There was the emblem of the First Army Corps on the armored vehicles.

There were quite a few people who came, probably about a hundred-man team.

Although their military operations in Luo Xia Province were mainly to maintain order in the occupied areas, they had also gone to the frontlines to participate in a few battles when the players couldn’t cope.

The once-in-a-lifetime NPC troops, their style closer to the regular army.

Just a few gangs dared to challenge the Alliance’s war machine, simply courting death.

"...Looking at this situation, there might be another big event on New Year’s Eve." Feng Qing’s eyes gradually lit up with excitement.

A team of soldiers in exoskeleton armors crossed the main gate, and upon locking eyes with Feng Qing, walked towards her.

The leading soldier opened his helmet visor and knocked his right fist on his left chest, cleanly stating,

"The First Army Corps’ 21st hundred-man team is ordered to take over this area, leave it to us."

As his words fell, a line of pale blue text updated on the VM.

[Task: Investigate the basement of the welfare house, wait for the Alliance army to arrive (Completed)]

Imitating the NPC’s gesture, Feng Qing also placed her right fist on her chest and returned a military salute, smiling politely.

"Yep, I’m leaving it to you guys."

The team captain waved, sending a team into the basement, another two teams searching upstairs, while the rest remained on standby in the hall.

Watching those fully-armed soldiers, Horacca sitting on the ground was as pale as death.

She had no doubts that the Dagger Gang, once a force to be reckoned with in the slums, was probably going to meet its end this time...

The children locked in the dungeon were quickly brought out.

What surprised Feng Qing was that the dungeon, which didn’t look very spacious, actually held ninety-seven kids.

Since the surface temperature was much colder than the basement, and there were no suitable clothes for them in the vehicles, the Alliance soldiers could only wrap them in quilts found in the building, waiting to be handed over to professionals at the Home of the Refugees.

The rescued children clung to the quilts, looking bewilderedly at the soldiers in exoskeleton armors, their faces filled with terror but too scared to make a sound.

Some of the older girls guessed what might be happening, but their faces were equally filled with uncertainty about the future.

Looking at Feng Qing standing by the door, little Citrus stopped and said in a soft voice,

"Sister...are you guys from the Alliance?"

Even she wasn’t that bright, but looking at Sister Horacca’s expression, she had some guess.

The soldier leading her onto the vehicle didn’t rush her but simply stood by her side.

Feng Qing squatted down to look at her, gently touched her head, and comforted her in a soft voice.

"Don’t worry, we aren’t going to eat you."

Citrus asked quietly,

"Then, where will we be sent?"

Feng Qing thought for a moment and tried to describe.

"Um... a warmer place than here, where people will teach you to read, write, and do arithmetic."

Citrus looked somewhat downhearted.

"No one will adopt us?"

Feng Qing didn’t know how to answer this question, but seeing the loneliness on the little girl’s face, she suddenly had an idea, smiled and said,

"But your sister can come to visit you."

Citrus’s eyes instantly brightened.

"Really?!"

"Yep!" Feng Qing nodded vigorously, looking into her eyes, she extended her little finger, "Pinky swear."

Although she didn’t know the significance of this gesture, after hooking fingers and shaking them, the little girl felt a warm sensation in her heart.

She suddenly felt that the Alliance wasn’t so scary.

Maybe Sister Horacca was wrong?

Happily saying thanks, little Citrus waved her hand vigorously in farewell and obediently followed the soldier onto the armored vehicle outside the courtyard.

As the armored vehicle drove away, Feng Qing waved her hand with an aunt-like smile on her face.

So cute...

Can I keep one?

Suddenly realizing her smile was somewhat inappropriate, Feng Qing’s face flushed red, and she hastily shook her head to drive out the strange thought.

"Right...spices, I need to buy some spices to take back." She murmurred to herself and hurried out of the yard, heading for the market by the main gate of the giant wall.

She almost forgot the real work!

It’s already getting dark.

I wonder if there’s still time...

...

As it turned out, it was too late.

At the main gate of the slum, there was a sentry post, with barbed wire and barricades pulled around the edge, and a large number of troops were moving through the checkpoint into the interior.

No entry without a permit; exit is not allowed.

Loudspeakers mounted on poles continuously called into the slum, instructing unrelated persons to stay indoors to avoid accidental injury from stray bullets.

The storm had come suddenly and swiftly, without the slightest hint, as if it had been prepared long ago.

It wasn’t just the slum that was sealed off; the market in front of the giant wall was also cordoned off by the First Army Corps, completely locked down.

A crowd of peddlers and mercenaries gathered at the entrance of the marketplace, shouting excitedly at the soldiers of the First Army Corps.

"What are you trying to do with this!?"

"We’re here to do business! We’re not your residents!"

"Are you bandits!?"

"Enough, I won’t do business here if it comes to this, just let me leave—"

In a sense, the Alliance’s actions had broken the century-old convention of Giant Stone City, stretching their reach beyond the enclosing wall.

Most of the people were carrying weapons, and the atmosphere on the scene became tense in an instant.

Just as everyone was cursing and making a ruckus, a loud voice cut through the noise at the market gate.

"Quiet!"

Glancing at the agitated crowd, Wrench raised his volume and continued.

"We’ve received word that a gang of evil forces is causing trouble outside the wall. These Looter kin are extremely arrogant, not only committing atrocities right under our noses but also daring to kidnap our citizens on our turf. The Manager has ordered a thorough investigation!"

"Rest assured, everyone. We will not miss a single villain, nor will we wrong a good person."

Before his words had finished echoing, the noise on the scene had picked up again. Clearly, some were leading the troublemaking, stirring up the emotions of those Waste Land Wanderers.

"What does this have to do with us! It’s not us who kidnapped your people!"

"This is outside your residential area, we haven’t even entered your homes, you’re overreaching!"

"Where exactly is the boundary of the Alliance, why does it seem like everywhere is your turf—"

"Bang—!"

The piercing sound of a gunshot made all the noisy voices stop.

Coldly staring at those noisy Waste Land Wanderers, Wrench, with the gun pointed at the sky, continued in a frosty tone.

"I haven’t finished speaking."

The machine guns atop the armored vehicles aimed from a distance, their dark and menacing barrels sending chills down the spines of countless people.

Meeting those murderous gazes, even the fiercest Waste Land Wanderer had to pick up the reality that "a wise man does not fight when the odds are against him."

Gathered here were not only those fully armed soldiers but also residents of the refuge.

Aside from those equipped with bizarre prosthetics who didn’t seem very bright, many gave off the distinct aura of Awakeners.

Members of the gangs hiding in the crowd were sweating bullets, feeling a bad omen amidst the serious preparations, sensing impending trouble.

Watching the silent crowd, Wrench unemotionally returned his pistol to his waist and said succinctly.

"Wherever our bullets fly, that’s where we have jurisdiction."

"Within range, it’s all our turf."

A large number of armored vehicles arrived from the north, along with the number one tank that had come down from the front lines. The menacing armor sent shivers down many.

At that moment, a Centurion wearing heavy exoskeleton walked up to Wrench and saluted.

"The slum has been completely sealed off!"

Wrench nodded his head.

"Prepare to execute Stage 2 plans."

"Yes, sir!"

With another salute, the Centurion hustled to the roadside, signaling the armored vehicles to start up and head towards the checkpoint with his brothers.

The Thousands of leaders from the Militia Group coordinating with the operation glanced toward the direction of the checkpoint, then back at Wrench.

"Wasn’t the operation scheduled for after the New Year?"

"Someone tried to kidnap residents of the refuge. The operation has been moved up."

Anyway, the preparations were pretty much ready. The Manager had ordered a head start to prevent those people from slipping away to the Wasteland.

Hearing Wrench’s answer, the Thousands of leaders looked surprised.

Kidnapping residents of the refuge?

Were those guys tired of living?

"No issues with the person, I hope."

Wrench replied offhandedly.

"If you’re asking about those who kidnapped her, they’re probably all dead by now."

Thousands of leaders: "..."

After controlling the Waste Land Wanderers at the marketplace, the First Army Corps didn’t immediately search for gang members hiding among them. Instead, they gave them a chance to turn themselves in and then shifted the focus of their action to the neighboring slum.

The cameras on the wall and the drones from Huge Rock Military Industry had locked onto the residences of the gang leaders early on. The Dove-type Missiles and 155mm howitzers stationed on the wall were on standby, ready to conduct a surgical strike and cleanse the area.

Armored vehicles, with the cooperation of the infantry, drove directly into the slum, gunning for the strongholds of major gangs.

To quote the Manager, first catch the biggest fish that stirs up trouble, kill a bunch of the medium-sized, and the small fry will naturally quiet down.

The mission wasn’t just carried out by the First Army Corps but also by the Burning Corps stationed in Giant Stone City.

As soon as the players heard there was "big Work" ordered personally by the Manager, they immediately dropped what they were doing to prepare for the New Year’s Eve events, grabbed their gear, and rushed to the meeting point to assemble.

Fighting Variants was nowhere near as exciting as beating up Looter kin.

The last big battle seemed like it happened so long ago!

In moments, Burning Corps had already assembled over five hundred brothers.

Amidst the snowy field, Old White, wearing power armor and carrying a rifle, walked to the front of the line and turned on the loudspeaker, his voice booming out.

"Bounty information has been updated in the taskbar! Dividing a Silver coin bonus of 1 million Silver Coins!"

"Full price for the alive, half for the dead!"

Hearing such a rich reward for the mission, the players, ready to go, had their eyes flashing greedily.

It was as if the slum wasn’t hiding gang members, but walking Gold Coins, breathing bounties!

Noticing the power armor approaching, the crowd’s Quit smoking was momentarily taken aback, then suddenly recognized the kid as Night Ten and exclaimed in surprise.

"Holy crap! Night Ten, how come you Perception types are also wearing power armor now?!"

He unlocked the helmet faceplate.

Wearing the OD-10 "Dragon Cavalry" power armor, Night Ten glanced at Quit smoking, who was a full head shorter than himself, and said with a mischief-laden grin,

"Heh, my Contribution Points reached the knight level long ago, so why can’t I wear it? Want me to lend you some?"

Quit smoking: "Damn!"

The idea was indeed tempting, and Night Ten probably wouldn’t rush him to pay it back, but after thinking it over, Quit smoking eventually dismissed the thought.

A single power armor cost one million silver coins. If he were just a little short, he might have borrowed it, but unfortunately, he was more than a little short.

Better to wait until his Contribution Points reached the knight level and then save up to buy his own.

Watching his rowdy brothers, Old White cleared his throat and shouted,

"We’re not rookies here, so I’ll spare you the talk."

"Check your gear, get ready to move!"

What replied was a series of loud, excited cheers.

"Ow-ow-ow!"

Although they were not far from the poverty district, they were not the slightest bit worried about being overheard, as the functional NPCs, who had not undergone training, could not understand the "dialect" spoken inside their refuge.

Moreover, the Alliance had initiated electronic warfare against the gangs in the poverty district at the start of the operation, jamming the commonly used radio frequencies of the major gangs.

At this moment, the top echelons of the gangs completely lost control over their subordinates; the spies planted in the poverty district became useless, only able to pass messages by word of mouth in the chaos, or each fighting for themselves.

For a long time, the Guards Corps had been collecting and monitoring the communication channels of these gang members, a task that was carried out in tandem with the infiltration and investigation into the poverty district.

The Alliance’s electronic warfare capabilities were not very effective against the Army and could occasionally even be suppressed by them, but bullying these small fry was simply too easy.

Many gang members would only use walkie-talkies, and those were the civilian type available on the market.

Facing the well-trained regular army of the Alliance and the ferocious players, these scattered soldiers active in the poverty district were quickly surrounded and eliminated one by one.

The banging sound of gunfire was like fireworks playing prematurely; orange-yellow muzzle flashes and tracers crisscrossed wildly through the narrow alleys.

In just an hour, countless gang members in the poverty district were dead or injured. On one street alone, more than a hundred bodies lay crisscrossed, countless more blocked in the alleys, and the mud mixed with the melting snow turned a dark crimson by the blood plasma.

This could no longer be called a war.

It was an outright massacre!

Standing at the entrance of the West Willow Wood Tavern, Mr. West’s face was filled with shock and horror, his eyes bloodshot as he stared at the two armored vehicles parked by the road.

He had long suspected the Alliance might make a move against them, but he didn’t expect it to come so swiftly, leaving him utterly unprepared.

Seeing the forces that had tightly encircled the area, Mr. West knew that continuing to resist meant only a dead end. He immediately shouted at the big shots in the tavern.

"Put your guns down, all of you! Have you gone mad? Can these things beat the power armor and tanks outside?!"

His men were stunned by his shouting, uncertain of what to do next.

Mr. West clenched his teeth, steered his heart, grabbed a briefcase, and quickly stepped outside, yelling at the soldiers aiming at him.

"Don’t shoot! Wait! Don’t shoot!"

Killer Dagger, standing with his meaty fists propped, looked at him and said with a grin,

"What? You got any last words?"

Trembling as he glanced at those fists as big as iron pots, Mr. West swallowed his saliva, gave an embarrassed smile, and spread open the briefcase in his hand.

Inside lay bundles of colorful paper money!

Part of it was Cr, and the rest was paper currency in silver coins, followed by some light brown paper bills whose origin was unknown, but certainly carried no small denomination.

"Sir...please spare me this time, and consider this money a gift to you and your brothers."

Killer Dagger hadn’t yet spoken when the Kidney Fighter, who was left with only a head and limbs, glared and tightened his grip on his weapon.

"Fool! If I kill you, this money is mine too!"

Upon hearing this, Good Dog was startled and hurriedly stopped him.

"Wait a second, this guy seems to be on the wanted poster, alive he’s worth the full price, dead only half!"

The Kidney Fighter paused, then chuckled he-he.

"Right, capture him alive! Put the cuffs on him!"

Several players immediately stepped forward and pushed the man carrying the briefcase to the ground, completely ignoring his screaming and shouting.

Pressed against the ground with his hands twisted behind him, West, who swallowed a mouthful of muddy water, had his face covered with embarrassment, regret, and despair.

These guys have no sense of honor at all!

If he had known, he would have fled down the back roads...

From the tavern behind came continuous and dense gunfire, but it was soon extinguished, snuffing out the last flickering flame.

Before long, he saw another group of soldiers walking towards them, escorting Jeff who had previously hidden in the safe house.

And not just them.

A caught amongst them was the boss of Dean Gang, the second-in-command of Poison Gang...

Looking at those familiar faces, West’s heart completely sank to the bottom.

It was only at this moment that he understood.

The Alliance had been watching them for a long time, and had probably even marked on the map which routes they would escape through.

Jeff, covered in dust and dirt, was dragged by a power armor and knelt beside West.

It seemed these soldiers intended to categorize them.

Unable to move his arms and legs, Jeff’s Adam’s apple bobbed, looking at the power armor standing beside them, he said in a hoarse voice.

"Even if you kill me, other gangs will replace us, this won’t solve any problems."

"Let me see your boss...that respected Manager, we can cooperate, I can do the dirty work that’s inconvenient for you, just give me a chance!"

Old White, standing nearby, glanced at this babbling man and suddenly smiled.

"Cooperate? You think too highly of yourselves."

He had actually met these people before.

That was a long time ago.

Although the Alliance didn’t issue a task to exterminate these people then, he knew that someday the Manager would deal with them.

Jeff was stunned.

The next sentence from that man sent a chill to his spine.

"You have no value in being recycled, you’re better off dead to us."

"As for the others becoming like you."

"I’ll send them to join you."