This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 568: Running into Acquaintances in Such a Broken Place?

Chapter 568: Chapter 568: Running into Acquaintances in Such a Broken Place?

In the Town of Hope, guarding the gate was an easy job.

Although it was separated from the Wasteland by only a door, and two steps forward would take one to a hell no one cared about, it was ultimately not on the Wasteland itself, so one could earn a considerable salary without taking too great a risk.

And the job was respectable enough.

Whether conducting legitimate business or not, people, when approaching the vicinity of the settlement, would all be somewhat cautious.

Even Looters would need such a safe place to exchange their plunder for other items they needed.

Otherwise, what they’d stolen would be worthless trash, left on the ground for Scavengers to collect or for other Waste Land Wanderers to claim as spoils of war.

Especially nowadays, most of the wastelanders here were using automatic rifles produced in the Southern River Valley Province.

Just trying to survive with a hand-crafted iron pipe rifle was tough enough, they also needed to keep up with the times, to hide where they should hide...

Standing at the Western Gate, Maxim yawned and took out his rusted pocket watch for a glance, calculating how many hours he had left until the end of his shift.

This job was about killing time.

That was particularly true at the seldom-visited Western Gate.

Just as he was pondering where to grab a drink after work, the guard standing next to him suddenly looked up towards the west and muttered with a frown,

"What’s that sound?"

"What... what sound?" Snapping the brass cover shut, Maxim pocketed his watch and glanced at the newcomer.

This young fellow had joined the Town Guard just a few months ago, previously the son of a local Hunter. He remembered his father a bit; they had drunk together.

"Didn’t you hear it?" The young man looked at him, then said, "Something exploded."

Hearing this, Maxim couldn’t help but laugh.

"Ha ha, isn’t that normal? Just two steps out is the Wasteland, gunshots and explosions are too common... you’ll get used to it."

Honestly speaking, it really wasn’t that common.

Loneliness and cold were more common than death in the Wasteland.

On a desolate wilderness, one might not see a living creature for many years, only able to see swaying wild grass every day for decades.

If one day a wolf’s howl suddenly erupted there, perhaps it was time to be vigilant.

But Maxim didn’t want to think so.

Rather than wondering what might be happening close by on the Wasteland, he preferred to think that whatever was happening had nothing to do with them.

Minding one’s own business was the key to survival; he was very clear why he had become a guard—it was precisely because he wouldn’t meddle in things that were none of his concern.

The young man crouched on the ground, ear pressed to the earth, still muttering to himself.

"Gunshots, and the sound of running, at least thirty or forty kilometers away, bang bang bang... Who’s fighting?"

Maxim couldn’t help but go over and kick him in the butt.

"Stop freaking worrying about nothing and stand guard."

Getting kicked in the butt, the young man stood up awkwardly, zipping his lips shut.

Disrupted by this, the rather good mood Maxim had maintained until noon also soured.

Once people know something big has happened next to them but don’t know what exactly it is, they can’t help but let their imagination run wild and start feeling anxious.

Especially when they have nothing else to do.

Maxim was no exception. Though the young man seemed to have dropped the matter, he couldn’t stop going over it again and again in his mind.

Who was fighting whom?

Speaking of which, going west from here, were there any larger settlements?

Just then, a rustling was heard in the nearby forest, followed by a "whoosh" as an arrow cut through the air.

Before Maxim could react, an arrow whizzed past his hat and ’clang’—lodged into the wooden post behind him.

Startled, he quickly chambered a round into his rifle, disengaged the safety, and aimed in the direction from which the arrow came.

"Who’s there!"

No one replied.

Maxim swallowed, his eyes flickering with bewilderment and tension, his gun aimed straight at the tree line where no one could be seen, but he didn’t dare go and check the situation.

At that moment, the young fellow beside him ran back, pulling the arrow out of the post, and called out to him.

"Sir! There’s something tied to the arrow!"

"What is it?" Not daring to take his eyes off the sight, Maxim kept his gaze fixed on the tree line and shouted back with his back turned.

"It’s a roll of beast skin! And there seems to be something written on it..." Unwrapping the beast skin and barely making out the written content, the young man suddenly fell silent.

Beast skin?

Maxim was stunned for a moment, desperate to know the content but not willing to lower his guard.

So, while maintaining his aim, he stepped back next to the young man and snatched the piece of beast skin with his left hand.

It indeed had two lines of carelessly written words in beast blood.

And it was misspelled.

Guessing the content with some difficulty, Maxim’s face instantly drained of color, turning as pale as if whitewashed.

"Damn it..."

He cursed under his breath and quickly looked at the young man beside him, who was just as frozen, staring at him with a warning in his eyes.

"Stay here, I’m going back to report... You mustn’t tell anyone about this!"

The young man nodded blankly in response.

Maxim eyed the forest, clenched his teeth, tucked his gun onto his back along with the arrow, and the roll of beast skin and ran towards the town without looking back.

In the woods, a pair of green pupils hidden beneath a hood watched the figure running towards town. Only after the guard had disappeared behind the gate did the shadowy figure vanish from beneath the forest canopy...

...

The central public hall of the Town Of Hope.

The round table in the meeting room was filled with the town’s leading figures.

There was the owner of the Grizzly and Streetlight Tavern, an older carpenter, the owner of a tannery, as well as landlords who controlled thousands of acres and the mayor who oversaw thousands of residents.

They weren’t the type to have time on their hands, yet here they all sat, silently smoking first or second-hand tobacco.

Even though the pungent smoke could bring tears to their eyes, those seated kept the doors and windows sealed tight with no intention of cracking a window for ventilation.

Likewise, nobody spoke.

An arrow now lay on the round table before them.

Around noon, someone had shot the arrow at the western gate of the town, and it was picked up by the guard on duty there.

Previously, it had a piece of beast skin tied to it with two lines written in blood.

"[Ogre], wants to eat humans."

"Run!"

"If this is a joke, it’s definitely the worst and most malicious one of the year!"

The first to break the silence was the mayor.

His name was Ma Hechang. Although he was already fifty years old, he was still strong and respected in the town.

The owner of the Grizzly and Streetlight Tavern held his head in his hands, muttering painfully to himself.

"Why is this happening?"

The meeting room was filled with a cacophony of complaints and discussions, and panic and unease were written all over everyone’s faces.

They didn’t know what an "Ogre" was, but seeing the words "eat humans" and "run," it wasn’t hard to guess what they implied.

Ordinary Looter Tribes wouldn’t dare to attack a Survivor Settlement like Town of Hope with its thousands of households. It could only be those unreasonable mutants.

But people still couldn’t believe it was true.

The "Qi" Tribe hadn’t just appeared in Brocade River City; they had been there for a century and a half. Those green-skinned brutes were indeed too powerful and frighteningly numerous, yet they weren’t much like the other mutants, rarely attacking nearby Survivor Settlements.

Rumors suggested they bred slaves within their tribe, so they didn’t need to raid often. Others said their ancestors were actually humans who had mutated by accident, so they instructed their descendants to be more restrained and not attack villages and farms.

However, all these were just rumors.

Most who believed them didn’t even understand why things were the way they were; they simply clung to a reason that could appease themselves and others, seeking solace amidst their anxiety.

The Qi Tribe had been around for over a century, and so had they, living here for just as long. No one knew why the mutants hadn’t devoured them, and they understood even less why they had changed their minds now.

Suddenly someone spoke up.

"Could it just be a joke?"

Nobody paid any attention to him.

Because it was an absurd suggestion.

Even though most people thought just that, no one dared to joke about their own and their families’ lives.

Ma Hechang looked to the head of the Town Guard sitting nearby and spoke in a low voice.

"Have the sentries been dispatched?"

The head of the Town Guard nodded and said anxiously,

"They have been sent out... No news yet."

Mayor Ma breathed a slight sigh of relief; at least for now, they didn’t have to worry about the green-skinned horde bursting in halfway through the meeting.

He then surveyed the room with a grave tone.

"Now, we need to first figure out who is warning us! If that person really has solid information, why use such a method instead of telling us face to face!"

"That’s what I’ve been thinking! If the news is true, why not speak to us directly? We’d all thank him and might even pay him some money," the owner of the glassware store complained.

At that moment, Ma Hechang turned his attention to the blacksmith seated at the round table.

"Do you recognize this arrow?"

"...I do, it’s indeed one sold from my shop," the town blacksmith said, frowning as he scrutinized the arrow’s point. "However, all the hunters in town use my arrows, which doesn’t reveal much."

For experienced hunters, hunting with rifles wasn’t cost-effective; traps and bows and arrows were more economical.

Mayor Ma’s face showed a touch of disappointment.

Just then, a man wearing a long coat made of Devil Silk and looking somewhat prosperous spoke up.

"Cough cough, listen to me, there are too many anomalies here... I’m more inclined to think someone wants to drive us away to loot our property opportunistically."

His name was Xiao Zhixue. He was in the beer business, owning a brewery in town with about twenty workers, and almost all the alcohol consumed by the Waste Land Wanderers came from him.

A storeowner retorted.

"But what if what the letter says is true?"

The wine merchant with the surname Xiao glared with wide eyes.

"Really? How is that possible? That ’Qi’ tribe never attacks settlements; they only capture those wandering in the Wasteland!"

"Just because they didn’t before doesn’t mean they won’t in the future; maybe they whimsically changed their minds."

"But that doesn’t make sense! Aren’t they allies of the Torch Church? We’ve already converted to the Church, and our town even has a pastor from the Church!"

All eyes turned to the pastor at the front of the table, and the middle-aged man, flustered by the scrutiny, wiped sweat from his brow as he nervously spoke.

"I don’t know... I’ve been unable to contact the Apostle for the past few days. Ah, could this be related?"

"To the west... there seems to be a small place called Dusty Town," the blacksmith said, stroking his chin.

The pastor nodded hurriedly.

"That’s the name! I remember the Apostle mentioned before he disappeared that he was going to take his followers to spread the faith there!"

At this moment, the owner of the tanning workshop suddenly spoke up.

"Could it be that the Mutants went to Dusty Town searching for the Apostle, and when they didn’t find him... those green-skinned baboons went crazy and started killing everywhere?"

This seemed like the most reasonable explanation.

Although it was also the one everyone least wanted to face.

Mayor Ma banged his fist on the table forcefully and raised his voice.

"Enough, these things aren’t important. What is important is what do we do now? Do we stay and fight them, or do we move to another place to avoid—" Before he could finish, the wine merchant exclaimed in alarm.

"Move to another place? Are you joking? Where could we go? There’s nowhere nearby that can take in so many people!"

Others could just pat their butts and leave.

His winery couldn’t be moved!

If those Mutants didn’t kill people, they would surely set a fire and burn this place down! By then, all his wealth here would be gone!

Most of the others felt the same.

Those sitting here were the most prominent families in the town; their homes and assets were all here. This place was more than just a small town to them; it was their foundation.

Although no one wanted to face those green-skinned monsters, no one wanted to just flee either.

"If we don’t leave, we’ll have to fight them," Mayor Ma said with a gloomy expression, "To be honest, I have little confidence in facing those guys."

A Mutant tribe of tens of thousands...

Even the Pinecone Wood Farm to the southeast, that big Landlord with nearly fifty thousand people, couldn’t possibly stand against that Mutant tribe.

The scale of the two was simply incomparable.

At this time, the chief of the Town Guard suddenly rose from his seat at the conference table and walked toward the door.

Mayor Ma looked in his direction.

"Where are you going?"

The chief stopped in his tracks.

"To mobilize the residents of the town, hand out the guns to them. If we keep discussing like this, we won’t be able to escape or prepare for battle in time; we can only sit here and wait for death."

No sooner had he finished speaking than the wine merchant who was sitting not far away stood up.

"Wait, you can’t do that! If you start handing out guns now, everyone will know something’s up!"

The Town Guard chief frowned.

"What’s the use of covering it up at a time like this?"

The wine merchant lowered his voice and said.

"There are some Waste Land Wanderers in town; they can fight better than us. If need be, we can pay them! But if they get wind of it now and learn that the opponents are Mutants... I bet they’ll run faster than rabbits!"

The Town Guard chief stared at him blankly for a moment, considering the point. Those Wanderers were, after all, more formidable than the town’s volunteer militia; mobilizing those guys would be better than sending a bunch of people who had never fought to their deaths.

The people sitting around the conference table exchanged glances, mostly with looks of agreement. After pondering for a while, Mayor Ma slowly nodded.

"I was thinking the same... but we can’t place all our hopes on those outsiders; we need to prepare for both possibilities."

He then looked towards the Town Guard chief.

"Get the weapons in storage delivered to the Enclosing Wall, blockade the four main gates to the east, south, west, and north with obstacles, and dig some fortifications... As for the Waste Land Wanderers, we will tell them that we have received news of a Looter group moving to this area, and the town needs to strengthen its defenses, with all vehicles and goods not allowed to enter or leave temporarily. After three days, if the alert is lifted, we will remove the fortifications, and they can come and go freely."

"During this period, the Town Of Hope will provide its guests with free lodging and food."

By detaining the goods, the town’s merchants would be detained, and by detaining those merchants, it was essentially detaining their private guards.

If it was just a delay of three days, the merchants probably wouldn’t take too drastic of actions that would offend the small town outright.

Although this might affect the reputation of Town Of Hope, the crisis of survival was clearly more pressing at the moment.

As for those mercenaries, although it was hard to detain them by force, they could be hired under the pretext of dealing with the Looters that had moved to the area.

After pausing for a moment, Mayor Ma said with a faint hope.

"Actually... it might not be as bad as we think."

"The sentries haven’t brought back any news yet, at least indicating that those Mutants haven’t gotten close to us. Maybe, as Mr. Xiao suggested, this is just a trick to scare us off."

People seated at the meeting looked at each other.

If only it were that simple...

...

Dozens of kilometers away in the forest.

After the banquet, the mutants smeared the blood and fat of their prey on their faces, humming rough shouts and ballads as they set off for the journey to the next feast.

Ogg had lost more than two hundred brothers, including a Centurion and a Big Guy.

He’d have to chop off four hundred heads to feel better.

As for whether the Torch Church was angry or not, what did that have to do with Ogg?

What bothered him was not only those old priests in the tribe who meddled in everything, but also those babbling humans he likewise disliked...

At this moment, the vast majority of residents in the Town of Hope were still unaware that danger had quietly approached above their heads.

And the few who knew the situation were still fantasizing that maybe things weren’t so bad, that the arrow bound with beast skin was just a clumsy scam.

On the other hand, having had lunch at the inn, Falling Feather learned from Wu Wen Zhou, the leader of the Commercial Team, about the news of Looter marauders nearby and the town blockade.

"Looters?!"

After hearing the news, a look of surprise crossed Falling Feather’s face, quickly recalling the group of people he had encountered at the border of the province.

"... Could it be those people we met?"

On their way here, they had encountered a group of Looter bandits and seized a Maxim from them.

But if it was those people, he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why there would be any need for Work to be done.

"I don’t know," Wu Wen Zhou said with a wry smile, shaking his head, "Anyway, all four exits of the town are now blocked. People can still come and go, but goods can’t get through. We can’t exactly ask them to dismantle the barricades and cover."

Although it’s considered a safe area here, it’s still on the Wasteland, and he dared not leave the goods here while escaping himself.

If the goods were lost, there’d be no place to reason it out.

But there was actually no need to go out.

Except for the Chewing Bone Tribe, most Looter bands were hammered down by settlements, and only a few small villages could possibly have an incident.

With so many mercenaries and commercial teams here, there was no need to worry about safety.

"Are we just going to wait it out?" Remembering the suggestion from a guy called White Shark, Falling Feather couldn’t help but frown.

Every additional day he was delayed on the road, the risk increased for his one hundred thousand silver coins to go down the drain.

Now that he was so close to his destination, he really didn’t want to drop the ball at this critical juncture.

Wu Wen Zhou sighed helplessly.

"For now, there doesn’t seem to be a better solution... anyway, it’s just three days, so let’s just wait."

He paused, then continued.

"Of course, although their reasoning is passable, we can’t just let them mess around without cause. I’ll go and discuss with the other merchants later, they have to give us an explanation."

If the blockades are still in place after three days, they could band together to put pressure on the local residents and the town authorities.

Of course, that would be a last resort.

If possible, he really didn’t want to clash with the locals, as the Town of Hope was one of the few relatively safe and reliable settlements along this trade route.

When staying overnight in some smaller settlements, he’d usually sleep with a handgun tucked under his pillow, but here, locking the door was enough to sleep soundly.

"... I’ll go have a look around, maybe there are some clues."

Saying so, Falling Feather stood up and pushed back his chair.

The thought of wasting three days in this small town made him feel terribly uncomfortable. Instead, he’d rather go out and see if there was any side quest to pass the time.

Wu Wen Zhou nodded.

"Go ahead, just make sure to come back before dark."

Standing on the street after walking out of the inn, Falling Feather glanced left and right, finding the town unexpectedly large, quite different from his first impression last night, probably housing no fewer than a thousand people.

Like them, there were quite a few merchants and mercenaries stranded here, now all gathered around the inn exchanging what they’d heard.

Chatting with them could be a good idea.

However, just as Falling Feather was about to walk over, he suddenly realized awkwardly that he wasn’t particularly good at socializing.

Forget NPCs.

Actually, he had limited contact with players too.

He had been playing Game for a while now, but he was only really familiar with Brother Mosquito and his teammates from the Goblin Corps, and then he knew some of Brother Mosquito’s acquaintances.

Before raising Xiaoyu, he’d often solo.

As he was pondering how to nonchalantly join in the conversation and fish out information from those old hands, a familiar voice suddenly came from the side.

"Falling Feather?!"

He didn’t expect to run into an acquaintance in this godforsaken place.

Hearing someone calling his name in Mandarin, Falling Feather instinctively turned his head and then saw a familiar face, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Ken?"

"What are you doing here?!"

-

(PS: I’ve been coughing for two weeks, and my throat is almost ruined; now when I speak, it sounds like blowing bubbles. I’ve successfully given up the habit of talking to myself while typing...)