This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 567: Two Clues

Chapter 567: Chapter 567: Two Clues

The drumbeat-like explosions and gunfire had stopped at some point.

Not long after, black smoke began to drift from the direction of Dusty Town.

The residents journeying on the mountain path could not help but halt their steps, unloading their burdens and prostrate themselves towards the small town.

"Great Antler God above..."

"We hope that the Big Horn Rat is safe and sound."

"Emperor protect us."

From these disorganized prayers, it wasn’t hard to see just how haphazard their faith really was.

Yet their hearts praying for the safety of the warriors were completely free of deceit.

Zhang Zhengyang, tied by his hands to the ox cart, felt a surge of relief upon seeing that wisp of black smoke, and a secret thrill of schadenfreude.

The esteemed Bishop sure hadn’t abandoned him!

Their allies had sent someone to rescue him!

However, he didn’t let his thoughts show on his face but just meekly shrank back, fearing that the survivors might notice him and vent their rage on him.

Watching the residents who lay prostrated on the ground, praying, Old White, walking at the front of the line, stopped and tapped his helmet with his index finger.

"Rest for ten minutes."

"We’ll wait for them for a while."

They were already over twenty kilometers from Dusty Town, separated by forests and hills impenetrable to vehicles, so there was hardly any need to worry about being caught up with.

Thanks to the time earned by the brothers of the Jungle Corps, they had enough time to move to a safe area.

After about three to five minutes, the residents of Dusty Town got up from the ground, dusted themselves off, and picked up their belongings from the ground.

The mood was somber; there wasn’t much communication.

Yet Old White could see something in their eyes beyond sorrow and confusion.

He had seen that same something in the eyes of the residents of City of Dawn...

"Let’s keep moving."

Old White waved his right fist.

The moving convoy stretched into a long snake along the mountain path, winding forward towards the shelter hidden in the mountains.

Meanwhile, a silver-colored small fixed-wing drone finished its circling and glided along its preset course to the side of an abandoned farm in the north.

Two scouts from the Guards Corps who were waiting there quickly approached, folded the drone up, and took it aboard the "Viper" transport plane parked near the farm.

Two hours later.

The drone’s storage was delivered to the Stone Building, and the combat footage and weapon data were retrieved and uploaded to the servers.

In the office on the highest floor of the Stone Building.

Yibers, standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, watched the combat footage from beginning to end.

After about two or three seconds, he sighed faintly and pressed the button to close it, muttering to himself.

"I have to admit, even ugly organic beings occasionally display moments of brilliance beyond just dying..."

"It’s beautiful."

According to the computer simulations, "Iron Wall" exoskeleton equipped with "Roarer" bomb guns could raise a human soldier’s combat power to the same level as a Mutant.

That is, under conditions where both parties use infantry armor, thermal weapons, and the gaps in tactics and numbers weren’t significant, a one-to-one casualty ratio was quite close to the simulated data.

Mutants were after all byproducts of the "Perfect Life Form" singularity technology; their existence was the crystallization of biological technology.

Even if the soldiers of the Jungle Corps were all Awakeners, achieving a one-to-three casualty rate without additional support was already quite challenging.

Yet, the final casualty ratio reached one to ten!

Yibers did not doubt that any of the Corps from Giant Stone City, even at their peak, could have achieved such a high level of combat power.

Twenty against over five hundred...

Even if it were a team composed of X-16, getting overwhelmed would probably happen in minutes.

"The data is too beautiful, to the point of losing its reference value... but your bravery deserves to be forever stored in the server."

Running his index finger lightly down the window, Yibers dragged the combat records and various data into a folder for archiving.

This was the first battlefield test of the XB-1 "Roarer" bomb gun.

And it was the most shocking test of a new weapon he had seen in a century.

Thinking that those guys were all dead, a rare hint of regret crossed Yibers’s face.

"Although you probably won’t have the chance to hear it, I still want to tell you."

"Your death is far more valuable than that of most organic beings."

But he hadn’t expected the Alliance soldiers to be so skilled at close combat; his original advice was to retreat at a safe distance of 10m.

Maybe they should be equipped with a chainsaw or some other type of close combat gear...

...

[Side mission: "First Bomb Gun Test" completed!]

[Requirement: Engage in a firefight with a mutant squad of over a hundred members.]

[Yibers: "The death of most organic beings is quite valuable, I am really looking forward to our next cooperation!"]

[Rating: S+]

[Reward: ...]

As the players from Jungle Corps were receiving their mission rewards, the "Wasteland OL" Official Website was buzzing like mad.

Glory-logged-off Trash Older Brother was picking at his keyboard, vividly describing just how dangerous the situation had been.

Including how he had unleashed an unparalleled slaughterfest amongst those muscle-bound green skins, and how he had claimed the head of that giant mutant in the middle of the crowd.

Listening to his "abstract narration," one hand taking a head, the other hand claiming another, one might think he had wiped out an entire hundred-man team.

Finally, someone couldn’t resist asking just how many he had killed, and Trash Older Brother honestly confessed.

"Only twenty," he said, and immediately a long string of booing ensued in the comments below the post.

Grandpa Ao, What Can They Do to Me: "Heh, bragging about just twenty heads, my brother went on a business trip to Southeast Asia back in the day and accidentally ran into a gang of drug traffickers, easily a hundred people. Those guys were massive, armed to the teeth with AKs and grenades, and yet my brother slaughtered them all with just a dagger, only to find out later that they were part of the local military faction."

Pick up trash 99 level: "Pfft, your one hundred drug traffickers wouldn’t be worth shit in the Wasteland; even the Looters might not be able to beat them!"

Elena: "I think the moment you started discussing with Proud Brothers, you already lost. (Amused)"

Gnome King Riches: "Am I misremembering, or wasn’t his brother on a clandestine mission down south as a special forces soldier? (Amused)"

Makabazi: "Hahaha, I remember that too!"

Elena: "So now the question is, what exactly did Proud Brothers’ ancestors do? (Amused)"

As usual, the Proud Brothers dropped a comment and ran off, never giving anyone the chance to confront him. This inevitably led people to wonder if he was the type sneaking peeks at his mobile phone under the table.

Coming back to the post itself, unlike the Backseat Drivers, most players knew just how fierce the mutants were.

Especially the veteran players from the Alpha test.

Memories of the mutants’ terrifying regenerative abilities were practically etched into their brains.

So when Trash Older Brother claimed he took twenty heads, even his own teammates didn’t believe his K/D ratio.

Tranquility called it fake at first glance, Difficult for the Strong even ranted that the guy must surely have counted the two heads he took as his own, which almost made Trash Older Brother’s nose crooked from anger.

It wasn’t until Midnight Chicken Killing also weighed in that Trash Older Brother’s account was vindicated.

The guy truly hadn’t been boasting.

If it weren’t for that big brute of a mutant being too fierce—the kind that could fell a tree with a single kick—he might have killed even more.

That brute had a name and could roughly be considered a purple elite monster.

Pick up trash 99 level: "...sigh, you guys had it rough, twenty ’Iron Wall’ Exoskeletons, not to mention that bomb gun or whatever, it all adds up to at least three hundred thousand silver coins, right?"

While he himself had lost a "Hunter" Exoskeleton, that thing was just a mount’s equipment and not really costly, so what if it was lost.

Isn’t gaming all about having fun?

As long as he enjoyed himself, and his followers were saved, not to mention some had lost more than him.

This life was worth it!

Midnight Chicken Killing: "Oh, that exoskeleton and rifle you mentioned... that stuff was mission props, once they’re broken, they’re broken, anyway, we didn’t buy them."

Picheng Paratrooper: "+1, have you forgotten? We usually wear that KV-1 with welded steel plates and Miner I."

Ground Model: "Goblin Technology is second to none in the world! (Amused)"

Pick up trash 99 level: "???"

Mission?

What the heck?!

Trash Older Brother was dumbfounded.

Seeing those three question marks, Midnight Chicken Killing typed and asked.

"Did you not receive the mission?"

Pick up trash 99 level: "... What mission. (Confused)"

Midnight Chicken Killing: "The mission from Huge Rock Military Industry. Didn’t I say from the start, we were just there to die."

Pick up trash 99 level: "What the fuck?! You serious?!"

Midnight Chicken Killing: "Yeah."

Seeing this "Yeah," Trash Older Brother almost spewed a mouthful of old blood onto the screen.

Brother Chicken had indeed said that, but he thought the guy was just showing off, never taking it seriously at all.

Turns out there was such an outrageous mission?!

Thinking Trash Older Brother didn’t believe it, Midnight Chicken Killing continued typing.

"The mission from Huge Rock Military Industry was a side mission for us to attempt ’20VS100’ to see how many we could kill. We had mission props to freeride, I planned to save them for later, but then this moment came... anyway, the rating was S+, and the silver coins were pretty good."

Makabazi: "Hahaha!"

Elena: "Trash Older Brother: It turns out I was the unwitting victim all along. (Amused)"

Gnome King Riches: "I feel sorry for you, if I were Trash Older Brother, I’d have fainted in the bathroom by now. (Amused)"

Pick up trash 99 level: "I [expletive]!%￥#@!"

Midnight Chicken Killing: "(Chuckle)"

Gorge Escaping Mole: "To give it to you straight, the loss of equipment is indeed painful, it breaks my heart just watching it. I think we could introduce an insurance feature, similar to EVE’s system of reimbursing a certain percentage of ISK when a ship is destroyed, perhaps returning sixty or seventy percent of silver coins when an exoskeleton gets blown up, but there’s probably no need to insure guns like automatic rifles."

Elena: "So here’s the question, considering the rate at which players’ equipment is damaged, what percentage of the total equipment value would be appropriate for the insurance premium? (Jokingly)"

Gorge Escaping Mole: "Uh, that is indeed a problem."

If the premiums are too high, the insurance loses its purpose. And if the premiums are too low, with Wasteland OL’s near-realistic economic system, the Alliance might go bankrupt on the spot.

He’s always been interested in providing private insurance services.

But with a business that’s a direct gamble against clear risks, no matter how he calculates it, he ends up going bankrupt in the end.

After all, he knows best how wildly players behave... he’s a player himself...

...

While the forum buzzed with uncontainable chatter, almost three hundred residents of Dusty Town and the Burning Corps finally arrived at the mountainous area at the border between River Valley Province and Brocade River Province.

This place had steep terrain; there was only one winding mountain road southward, and to the north was a river fifty to sixty meters wide with sheer rock walls jutting out of the water, spanned by a bridge built during the Human Alliance Era.

Although the roads on both sides were almost erased by time, this nameless bridge still stood firm, albeit slightly tilted.

Probably because of landslides undermining the bridge supporting the structure.

However, on the Wasteland, this risky bridge was not a problem.

It was already one of the few passable roads left.

Alliance supply trucks were parked at the end of the bridge, and the players from the Burning Corps were busy unloading materials, cooperating with the following logistic personnel to construct the operational base.

Before setting up watchtowers and machine-gun positions, they needed to widen the road at the end of the bridge first to ensure ammunition and weapons were delivered smoothly.

Right now, it was even hard for the trucks to turn around.

Seeing the condition of the road across the bridge, Night Ten really didn’t know whether to admire these guys’ driving skills or the Alliance factories.

They managed to drive vehicles over here, going back to reality and getting an A class license would probably be no problem.

"Long time no see! Where’s Trash Older Brother? Did he hit the dirt again?"

Upon seeing Old White and his group, Killer Dagger walked up with a cheeky grin to greet them, then his face showed surprise at the sight of the huge crowd behind them.

He wasn’t the only one surprised.

The survivors from Dusty Town were also frightened by his enormous hands, and several timid kids nervously hid behind their parents, some of the younger ones even started to cry.

Killer Dagger looked embarrassed.

He couldn’t fathom how, even though he wasn’t as scary as Trash Gentleman, the NPCs reacted to him like they had seen a ghost.

But to not scare the little ones, he still pretended to hide his bulky fists behind his back and whispered to Old White.

"Why are there so many people?"

Old White shrugged helplessly, about to explain, when Night Ten preemptively interjected.

"They’re all followers of Trash Gentleman."

Killer Dagger: "Pfft..."

Kidney Fighter: "Followers, huh."

"Basically, it’s like what Night Ten said, Trash Brother asked us to look after them," Old White followed up succinctly, "Not to mention that there are Mutants on the other side, even without Trash Brother’s request, we couldn’t ignore them."

"That’s true..." Killer Dagger nodded in agreement.

Mutants, they’re hardly human.

It’s a cliche, but nothing could be more apt to describe their atrocities. The Looter Tribe is nothing compared to the tribes of Mutants.

Old White had reported Dusty Town’s situation to the Manager.

Even though the Alliance had no capacity to take care of a group of refugees 700 kilometers away, especially with the City of Dawn and Giant Stone City preparing for the spring Tide, that benevolent leader still promised to send some personnel from the Home of the Refugees to settle these people locally.

At that moment, Dusty Town’s mayor approached them.

Following the old man was a young lad; both seemed to have something to say.

Seeing the pair, one old and one young, Old White asked gently.

"Is there something you need?"

Qin Baitian didn’t speak but respectfully nodded his head in greeting before, much to Old White’s surprise, raising his head to earnestly say:

"Thank you for saving us time and again; I know we can never repay your kindness in this lifetime, but at least we don’t want to be a burden to you and make the Great Antler God and the Big Horn Rat feel ashamed... If there’s anything we can help with, please don’t hesitate to instruct me; I will pass the message to the residents of the town."

The young man beside Qin Baitian also nodded vigorously, saying with determination:

"Please give us a chance... we want to help you with something!"

Months ago, due to an accident, he almost caused the entire village to fall to the green plague after eating Nago.

It was the Great Antler God who forgave and saved him.

That leader not only pardoned him for the sin he committed out of ignorance but also granted him precious medicine, which helped him through the hardest times.

Now, he had finally recovered completely.

Since then, he vowed to serve the great person for the rest of his life.

Seeing the determination in their eyes, Old White fell silent for a moment, swallowing the words he was about to say and instead spoke:

"We plan to build a supply outpost here, and later, we’ll construct a railway from Qingquan City to this location."

"If you want to help us with something, first gather a list of willing young adults aged 16 to 40. I’ll send the list to logistics and have them arrange work for you. Then you can collect a salary, although it’s usually not much, just the minimum standard."

"How can we accept that? You’ve helped us so much, we can’t take your money..." Qin Baitian’s expression was awkward as he tried to refuse, but Old White interrupted him with a raised hand.

"The Alliance doesn’t let anyone work for free, as long as there is work, there must be compensation. That’s a law everyone must follow, and I hope you understand. Just like you want to do something for us, we also don’t want you to bring your own provisions to do work for us."

Qin Baitian was stunned.

Not because of the man’s insistence on compensation, but because of the first sentence he said.

"The Alliance is..."

"It’s that Alliance in the southern part of River Valley Province. We haven’t had the chance to tell you, but we don’t have any emperors, only a Manager. That Lizard is one of us, so is that Mole, and the person with them. We all are residents of Shelter No. 404..."

Seeing their bewildered expressions, Old White guessed they probably couldn’t even find where River Valley Province was and ruefully stopped there.

"Is it too hard to understand? Then, think of it as... a collective made up of many large settlements."

Qin Baitian hadn’t returned to his senses when the young man asked blankly.

"Is it like Pinecone Wood Farm?"

"Pinecone Wood Farm? Definitely not as small as a farm..." Old White roughly took it to mean a place like Brown Farm and smiled as he shook his head.

However, to his surprise, the young man showed a stunned expression after hearing this.

"It’s even bigger than Pinecone Wood Farm..."

Night Ten curiously interjected.

"What place is that?"

Qin Baitian slowly began to speak.

"A settlement with over fifty thousand people, located a bit to the east of the city ruins, quite far from us but still within the boundaries of Brocade River City... The farmer there seems to be called Zhao something, and he has quite a few soldiers under him."

Night Ten and Wild Wind exchanged glances, and Fang Chang, who had been silent, stroked his chin with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Dusty Town is the last settlement not contaminated by Nago... In other words, Pinecone Wood Farm is now under the jurisdiction of the Torch Church?"

A slight movement in his heart, Fang Chang looked at Qin Baitian and asked.

"Are there any larger settlements around Brocade River City than Pinecone Wood Farm?"

Qin Baitian thought for a while, then shook his head.

"I don’t think so. I remember that farm itself was formed by the merger of several settlements. If I’m not mistaken, when I was a kid, there were three or maybe four farms there..."

Fang Chang immediately followed up.

"Have you been there?"

Qin Baitian shook his head, his eyes filled with a hint of fear.

"I wouldn’t dare go there... I’ve heard those Slave Hunters around here, some of them are actually the Guards of that Lord Zhao. Aside from scavenging and hunting, we usually don’t dare to venture too far from our settlement. The former town chief did seem to have some connections with Pinecone Wood Farm, but a lot happened after that... If you are curious about the situation there, I can ask some of the hunters in town for you."

Fang Chang nodded.

"Alright, thank you."

They were the vanguard of the Alliance dispatched to the South, and having just arrived, their grasp of the local intelligence was still insufficient.

He needed more information.

Whether it was for the secrets hidden within the "Champion" Biological Pharmaceutical Research Institute or to find that "Holy Land" and the Bishop hiding within.

As the largest survivor settlement nearby, Pinecone Wood Farm might become a good breakthrough point.

And then there was the "Iron Tower" Organization.

Fang Chang looked toward Old White.

"Speaking of which, what is the Manager’s opinion on that ’Iron Tower’ Organization?"

Old White ended his contemplation and said.

"His suggestion is that we can cooperate with local resistance organizations but must be wary of the possibility of infiltration within such loosely structured groups. The people we’ve contacted may be safe, but we have to question the others."

Fang Chang looked at Old White in surprise.

Frankly, he thought the same.

Last night’s attack was practically a death sentence; it didn’t seem like an attempt to wear down the other side but more like a self-sacrifice.

Indeed, that was the case. The Synthetic Mutant sent by the other side was exceptionally tough.

If it wasn’t for Night Ten pulling the aggro, that guy called Li Jinrong and his fellows would have been gone for sure.

What surprised Fang Chang was that he could think of this because he was on the spot; he was the one who rescued that fellow.

To think this through from eight hundred kilometers away after looking at a battle report.

This NPC had something...

"...Indeed, the Iron Tower Organization might have spies from the Torch Church, and we cannot fully trust them. But conversely, we can use this to our advantage by passing some false information to our enemies through them, causing our enemies to expose their weaknesses."

"That’s a good idea..." Old White nodded approvingly, then continued, "However, all these are just our guesses at the moment. Perhaps last night was just an accident; that possibility exists too."

Fang Chang continued.

"So we need two lines of action. On one hand, we will contact the people of the Iron Tower Organization and find out who among them can be trusted and who cannot be. On the other hand, we can follow the clue of Pinecone Wood Farm to collect intel about the ’Holy Land.’"

Old White nodded seriously.

"Okay, I’ll try to initiate contact with Iron Tower then."