This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 676: Help me, considering we are all residents of the refuge!

Chapter 676: Chapter 676: Help me, considering we are all residents of the refuge!

The setting sun had sunk into the sea, and the night at Circular Island Port was a peaceful one, yet Potato Harbor, two hundred nautical miles away, was bustling with activity.

In the forest, sparks flew, explosions and gunfire rose and fell in succession, and the communication channel was filled with chaotic shouts, occasionally accompanied by the shrieks and groans of variants.

The remote weapons station on the top of the "Husky" track vehicle kept firing, pouring 20mm caliber bullets into the pitch-black forest, while the grenade launcher occasionally emitted banging sounds as it burst open fiery flashes mixed with smoke in the jungle.

The surrounded group was a scientific expedition team that had ventured into the Ruins of Shilong City.

Half an hour ago, they had arrived at the ruins of a signal reception station, planning to recover the coordinates and identification codes of an astronomical observation satellite stored on the local server’s hard drive.

If they could reconnect to the satellite, they would be able to retrieve access records and historical IPs stored in the satellite’s memory, thus lighting up a large area on the map filled with high-value targets worth exploring.

For the excavation work of the entire city’s ruins, this signal reception station was akin to the key that unlocked the first door of the maze.

However, what none of them had expected was that after the Jungle Corps’ vanguard squad entered the signal reception station, what awaited them was a massive nest of mutated ants!

In fact, when they saw that one-meter diameter tunnel, a bad premonition had already arisen in everyone’s minds. And when they entered the database, that bad premonition quickly became a reality.

Dozens of dark green mutated aphids had nearly filled the entire tunnel, which had been transformed by the mutated ants into an aphid breeding farm!

A mutated soldier ant, as tall as a knee, quickly discovered them, and fierce combat ensued in the narrow tunnel.

Three players, risking their lives, charged into the database filled with sticky insects. Following the hints in their exoskeleton helmet’s visor, they dismantled the chitin-covered chassis and pulled out the motherboard with the hard disk attached.

Of the ten players who first entered the ruins, only five came back alive, and one of them had lost an arm.

The tribe’s farm had been destroyed, and the enraged swarm of ants burst out of the ant nest like a black tide, pouncing towards the people near the track vehicle.

These bugs were far stronger than those small creatures in Shelter No. 100.

Especially the soldier ants of the tribe.

They not only had jaws as sharp as sickles but also possessed the vitality to survive several gunshots, as well as the strength to bite through tree trunks.

Under the queen’s command, they stepped on the bodies of fallen comrades and pressed forward relentlessly towards the track vehicle.

Even with the Alliance’s fierce firepower, the sheer number of these creatures was overwhelming, and they seemed endlessly regenerating.

"MMP! This is way tougher than the green skins in Brocade River Province!" The Ground Model’s ears were buzzing from the incessant gunfire; he tensed his nerves while tightly holding down the continuously firing light machine gun, shouting in a hoarse voice.

"Reload! Cover me!" As the red-hot gun barrel cooled, a Picheng Paratrooper beside him knocked off an empty drum magazine and hurriedly inserted a new one from his back.

Just then, an RPG trailing white smoke shot out from above him, leaving his face smeared with sparks and thick smoke.

"Damn it—you!" he coughed out, and before he finished speaking, the rocket landed on a tree trunk only about twenty meters away from him.

The thermobaric bomb detonated, creating a burst of fire and smoke, shaking the surrounding bushes, and a dozen mutated ants, as if struck by a heavy hammer, squealed miserably as they were flattened by the searing blast.

The group momentarily caught their breath, but before they could rest for a while, the tide-like swarm of ants surged once more.

"There are too many of them!" Fingering his helmet, a player yelled through the communication channel.

Just as everyone was about to buckle under the pressure, the long-awaited retreat order finally came through the communication channel.

"... The hard drive has been recovered, all groups retreat according to the planned route!"

"Roger!"

The Ground Model, bearing the machine gun, folded the mount and trudged over the fluffy grass and branches towards the track vehicle.

The group fired alternately at the ant swarm while retreating in teams of three, finally making it to the "Husky" track vehicle nearby.

The vehicle, as large as a bulldozer, had already turned around and was retreating in the direction it came from under the fire support of four ten-man squads.

Watching the scattered debris, a player with a reluctant expression reached out to grab some materials to take back and ask about. He almost got his arm bitten off by a still-breathing mutated ant.

Fortunately, the squad leader nearby saw this and directly fired a burst that sent the not-yet-dead ant away, pulling the poor guy back from the brink of death.

"Are you insane!" he scolded the fool holding a mutated ant’s body, "What the hell are you doing touching corpses at a time like this!"

The player chuckled and rubbed his helmet.

"I just wanted to take one back for study..."

Tired of the nonsense, the squad leader pushed the guy’s shoulder towards the direction of the caterpillar vehicle, urging and shouting.

"Hurry up! Put it on the vehicle, we’re leaving!"

The Alliance didn’t have any planes deployed in this area to provide air support, but fortunately, during the day, the Burning Corps infantry had built temporary artillery positions near the camp, and this time the support weapons brought from the City of Dawn included a 155mm howitzer.

Using the caterpillar vehicle’s radio, Midnight Chicken Killing quickly got in touch with the friendly forces in the rear and reported the situation here.

"This is Jungle Corps, we are under attack by a dense swarm of ants, coordinates 1091, 1222... requesting extended fire support!"

Static crackled through the headphones, soon followed by the friendlies’ reply.

"Received! 155 artillery positions are in place, give us one minute!"

"Hurry up!!"

Yelling into the communication channel, Midnight Chicken Killing then disconnected and swung the chainsaw welded to his left prosthetic arm, chopping down at a mutated ant that pounced at him.

Accompanied by the gnashing scrape, the ginger-colored viscous fluid-covered carapace splattered under the heavy blow of the chainsaw, a mutated soldier ant, half the height of a man, was violently cut into two halves!

Without pausing his movements, Midnight Chicken Killing lifted the Bomb Gun mounted on his right arm and fired at a mutated soldier ant clamping onto his side.

The long flame flickered, and the 19mm shot hit the mutated soldier ant’s forehead solidly, turning the massive head and mandible into a sieve.

Standing amidst the swarm, he was like a god of slaughter, his broad and vigorous attacks having taken down countless "heads."

Seeing various squads engaging in close combat with the variants, he tore his throat and yelled.

"Hold on! Fire support is coming soon!"

Encouraged by his roaring, the stalwart men of Jungle Corps burst out with the zeal they once had when chopping mutants, drawing engineer shovels and logging axes from their exoskeletons, and began close combat with the mutated soldier ants charging at them.

A strength-type player threw aside his broken axe, casually picked up a cobblestone from the ground, and with sheer brute force, smashed a mutated soldier ant that was mounted on him into mush.

And a rookie who had just joined the group, even more vigorously, after having his legs snipped off by a mutated ant’s mandibles, directly grabbed the half-leg that fell to the ground, flesh and all, and furiously bashed in half of the half-man-high ant’s head.

The battle finally entered the phase of melee chaos, which Jungle Corps excelled at.

In the stimulation of fresh blood, everyone’s eyes were bloodshot.

For a moment, it was hard to tell who was human and who was beast.

"Complete madness!"

The ground model roared, throwing away his emptied machine gun, he dashed forward swinging a logging axe in a frenzy of chopping.

In just one minute, the fifty-man squad had nearly a thirty percent casualty rate!

Though the ant swarm too suffered heavy losses, these creatures, ignorant of what death meant, didn’t even have the word retreat in their dictionary.

As everyone’s situation became perilously dire, the artillery strike that Midnight Chicken Killing had called for a minute ago finally reached the battlefield.

Almost like clockwork.

Bursts of flashing light hurtled toward the sky with the booming sounds of thunder, and moments later, they hammered down on the dense forest in front of the Jungle Corps like raindrops.

Clusters of exploding lights and dense smoke blossomed like man-eating flowers in the rainforest, as hordes of mutated ants fell in swathes, torn to shreds by the explosive fragments and scorching airwaves.

The first round of shelling was just a prelude.

Before the mutated ants could recover from the explosions, a second round of shelling quickly followed.

The roaring artillery fire extended northward for a full five hundred meters, turning the entire rainforest into a mess, leaving broken tree branches and vines on the ground, and dark mud flipped from the ground to the canopy.

"Whoa!"

"Well done!"

After dealing with a few mutated ants that had luckily survived, everyone put away their resin-covered logging axes and red-hot gun barrels, cheering in relief.

The research team aboard the tracked vehicle also heaved a sigh of relief.

Except for Meng Liang, who had followed Chu Guang into battle before, most of the people here were this close to the frontline for the first time.

Hearing the clinking of bullet casings dropping onto the roof of the vehicle, many had their hearts in their throats.

Wiping the sweat from his face, Meng Liang tried to look relaxed as he glanced at his subordinates and squeezed out a comforting smile for the researchers.

"See, like I told you... it’s not that scary," he said, swaggering his legs to disguise the weakness in his calves.

Everyone looked at this ’Brother Meng’ with admiration, thinking silently that indeed he is someone who had seen the world with the Manager.

But what they didn’t know was—

While it’s true he had been to the frontline with the Manager, the so-called frontline was merely confined to the airship’s bridge.

Experiencing a situation like this with bullets flying around was also his first time.

It would be abnormal not to panic.

The outside battle had ended.

The mutated ants, heavily hit by the 155 artillery, had completely ceased their fighting.

In this night-enshrouded rainforest, the ground was littered with mutated ants that had lost limbs and couldn’t stand, twitching their remaining legs amid the acrid smell of gunpowder.

Realizing that the pursuit of prey was now impossible, some smaller-jawed mutated worker ants began to emerge from their nests, dragging the wounded soldier ants back into their nest.

Now, they had become irresistible targets in the eyes of other predators in the forest, and many variants smelling food sensed an opportunity for a feast, eagerly eyeing this side.

Obviously, the bloodthirstiness and cruelty of this rainforest were not only directed at outsiders; the cold, merciless law of the jungle equally visited every creature that stepped onto this land.

For the mutated ant tribes nestled beneath the Signal Reception Station ruins, tonight might be especially long and torturous.

But for those players who had stumbled into this area, it no longer mattered...

"Damn... I can’t believe I actually survived."

Pushing off the half-corpse that lay on top of him, Ground Model shook his groggy head vigorously and crawled up from the ground.

Picking up the machine gun he had dropped, he limped towards the rear with the help of his teammates, following the tracks of the tracked vehicle away from the battlefield.

After traveling two kilometers to the southwest, each squad took stock and reported casualties.

Including those unlucky enough to be heavily wounded, a total of twenty players died in action, while the remaining thirty were mostly injured.

The battle could be described as brutal.

However, the achievements they made were equally astounding.

The data stored on the hard drive was almost completely intact. They now only waited for the research team and the experts at Camp 101 to decrypt the contents of the hard drive and then retrieve data from a satellite thousands of kilometers away.

This wouldn’t take much time.

Once everything was completed, they would be able to synchronize all research facilities within dozens of kilometers that were linked to that satellite on the map.

The night was deep, darkness enveloped the rainforest, and on the quiet coastline there were only sporadic campfires at the harbor and the mottled moonlight floating on the waves.

Treading the edge of the campfire, the burly men of the Jungle Corps, who had been bustling in the forest all day, returned to Potato Harbor, located on the coast, arm in arm.

The exoskeletons were covered with scratches, dents, the saliva and blood of the Variants, and a few were pitted wrecks bitten and had lost their owners.

Watching this group of scarred warriors and the intact track vehicle, the researchers of the research team, who were sorting out samples at the entrance of the settlement, cast surprised glances at them and then their eyes more or less lit up with emotion.

Thanks to those respectable people, they were able to focus on the work they were good at without having to worry about the death that might come at any time.

Death was always present in the Wasteland and never left their side.

It was just that someone else bore it all for them...

Moved by that solemn atmosphere, a few researchers near the recovery point silently raised their right fists to their left chests and gave the backs retreating lazily a military salute from the Alliance.

Truly a group of respectable folks!

At the same time, at the southern side of Potato Harbor, not far from the beach, there sat the only tavern of the port.

The tavern’s name was quite unique, called "One Man Bar", which as the name suggests from the bar to the kitchen was manned only by the owner. Hence, sometimes the customers had to pour their own drinks or even wash their glasses in the wash basin next door.

But the players mostly didn’t mind, because even if they did, they had no choice, as this was the only small tavern in the entire settlement.

Even if it was an open-air one.

The owner’s name was "Drunk and Laughing at Beauty," a B-test player who got a helmet and was a lifestyle profession player. His specialties were deep-frying various kinds of fish and chips.

In his own words, these two dishes required hands, or even no hands, which suited someone like him with culinary skills virtually equal to zero.

As for the taste...

When you come here for drinks, why care about the taste?

Drunk people were just struggling with going offline, as for what the food tasted like, they didn’t really mind.

A group of players sat on the beach, drinking beer, eating fried fish and chips, and exchanging the information they had gathered from their adventures during the day.

"Damn, there’s a group of Mutated lizards living on the highlands to the northwest, at first glance I fucking thought they were dinosaurs! Thank god my Perception-type detected it first, almost didn’t make my ticket worth the flip!"

"Did you take that exploration mission?"

"Yeah! The difficulty said it’s E, recommended level LV10, I believed its bullshit!"

"Hahaha!"

"Your luck is just incredible!"

"I heard that submitting combat videos could lead to a reclassification; encountering three Level A or one S-level threat Variants could be reclassified as Level A, which would significantly increase the silver coins and Contribution Points from the mission rewards."

"Really? I’ll have to give it a try later!"

"Speaking of which, we should have brought Trash Lord here, this is his turf."

"Good idea. We might even help our brother Trash solve his relationship issues."

"Haha! You’re trying to kill me with laughter."

"Speaking of which, what has that guy been up to lately? Haven’t seen him around City of Dawn."

"He never came back from Brocade River Province, seems like he and Difficult for the Strong got addicted to playing shamans there."

"Goodness gracious."

"Playing shamans, huh?"

People were discussing in amazement when a group of Jungle Corps hulks, having removed their gear, boisterously walked over.

Unlike when they just returned to camp, these guys didn’t seem like they had lost teammates at all; their faces were flushed with sheer exhilaration, more like they had just won a well-matched sports game.

The scientific expedition corporation covered 70% of the equipment loss, and if one bought extra insurance for their equipment, the reimbursement could even reach 90%.

They could enjoy their time carefreely since the bills at the end were all covered.

The rewards for the missions were calculated based on actual difficulty, loss-profit ratio and side mission completions, among other factors.

Encountering an ant swarm was an unexpected situation, but they successfully brought back the hard disk amidst the anomalies.

This mission could definitely rate an A+; deducting equipment and ammunition loss beyond the reimbursed amount, a four-digit bonus per person was not an issue at all!

"MMP! Today’s mission was freaking thrilling!"

"So damn exhilarating!"

"Hope we get to do more of these!"

"Haha, you had fun, but Brother Guang certainly took a hit!"

"No biggie! Pleasure is all that matters!"

Watching Old White drinking with a few brothers from the Burning Corps, Midnight Chicken Killing walked over with a grin and extended his fist.

"Old White, that was some nice shooting!"

Grinning, Old White raised his fist and bumped it with his.

"Absolutely! The guys handling the artillery are pros."

Pulling up a stool to sit down, Midnight Chicken Killing asked with a smile,

"How about you guys? How was your haul today?"

Before Old White could answer, the Props Carrier sitting nearby cheekily interjected,

"Not bad, just so-so. Today’s job was mainly to play third-wheel and accompany Ms. Chen to admire flowers."

Ground Model: "Haha, playing third-wheel, not bad!"

"Don’t listen to his nonsense. It was a legitimate sampling mission, and we headed back after packing up the samples."

Meeting the teasing and gossiping gazes of the others, Old White coughed and continued,

"...Along the way, we also encountered a few attacks, but they were just moderate. We even brought back some game, they’re roasting it over there."

He indicated with his chin towards the beach nearby.

There, Killer Dagger and a few players were seen surrounding a bonfire with cobblestones, beside the freshly skinned mutated leopard.

This leopard was much larger than the ones piled on the stockpile during the day, probably a special breed evolved from this rainforest.

Elena, sitting on a nearby stool, swallowed and her eyes filled with longing.

"Nice, that looks great."

Although the fire hadn’t fully started, just looking at the marinated raw meat, and the plate of fries and fried fish no longer seemed appetizing...

Seeing several pairs of eyes glancing over, Old White laughed heartily and declared with a wave of his large hand,

"Anyone who wants some, feel free to help yourself, just bring your own cutlery and beer!"

Leading the charge to the bar, Ground Model lavishly slapped a few bills on the counter.

"Boss, two crates of beer! And... ten dishes of fries!"

"The beer is in the warehouse, help me get it." Busy frying fries, Yiren did not lift his head, anxiously watching the contents of the fryer.

It was as if he was watching a bunch of grenades with their pins pulled.

"Damn! I curse you!"

Seeing his perfunctory attitude, Ground Model flipped him the bird but quickly ran to fetch the beer from the warehouse.

Walking over to the bar to pour himself a glass of lemon water, Picheng Paratrooper looked at the busy Yiren and joked,

"Man, you should hire some staff, having customers serve themselves and even wash their own dishes, never seen such a cool boss like you."

Yiren couldn’t help but laugh and look up to reply,

"You think I don’t want to?"

There are hardly any NPCs in this camp.

And as for the players, don’t even mention it.

These guys can even afford a 600 silver coin flight ticket; obviously, they wouldn’t come here to do menial work.

And the newbies willing to do menial tasks, most of them haven’t even unlocked VM, let alone gather 600 silver coins for a flight ticket or meet the level requirement to take an airship to the new map!

After running back and forth twice, Ground Model finally managed to haul two crates of beer to the beach, distributing them to those waiting for the fire to grow.

It didn’t take long for Killer Dagger and Kidney Fighter to get the fire going.

A few hefty men from the Jungle Corps came up to help, setting up a makeshift frame to hold the two or three hundred-kilo mutated leopard.

Everyone pulled stools up to the fire, savoring the sea breeze and beer, roasting and slicing the bloody meat.

Smelling the intoxicating aroma of the roasted meat, watching the sizzling fats dripping on the fire, Old White blissfully squinted his eyes.

Beach, beer, barbecue...

This truly was what adventure was all about!

In comparison, life in City of Dawn was a bit too comfortable. While it was also interesting, whether it’s the people or the things, it always felt like something was missing compared to the beginning of the server.

But after arriving at Potato Harbor, he suddenly realized what that missing thing was.

They had set foot on this land as residents of Shelter No. 404, vowing to end the Wasteland Era and restore civilization.

Now, the wasteland of Qingquan City had ended, and the once death-filled abandoned city had become a training ground for newbies to practice their skills... There were no longer any quests that could offer those high-level players more of a game experience.

Although this was certainly good, one occasionally felt lonely.

Perhaps...

Only a life always on the road was most suited for players like them.

Gnome King Riches, sitting nearby and seemingly pondering the same thoughts, looked up at the clear night sky and the brilliant star river, suddenly said with a touch of melancholy,

"You know... if this trend continues, one day all the wastelands will come to an end, right? What do you plan to do then?"

Munching on a piece of crispy, golden leg meat, Elena replied facetiously,

"Why think so far ahead? Besides, isn’t there still a big pie five light years away?"

Gnome King Riches looked at him and asked,

"Has the wasteland five light years away ended too?"

"Well then, let’s go even farther and have a look!" Old Na laughed and looked up at the resplendent star river, "Buy a spaceship when the time comes, and see just how big this game’s map really is!"

Ground Model quipped,

"Maybe flying there, we’ll just find textures."

Elena laughed,

"Haha! That could really be possible!"

Everyone was eating and drinking in high spirits, and after half an hour, the fried potato fries that were ordered had just been brought to the table, Yiren was about to go back to frying fish, but was dragged down by everyone, who were already almost full, to join them for drinks.

Ground Model belched satisfactorily, stretched lazily, and suddenly noticed what appeared to be a pitch-black oil drum washed up on the beach.

To be precise, it was an object resembling an oil drum, about the height of a person and as long as three or four people lying down.

"Did something wash up on the shore?"

Hearing his voice, everyone instinctively looked toward the shoreline and also noticed the oddly shaped object.

Just then, the side of the cylinder opened with an arc-shaped door, and it seemed that a person rolled out from inside.

He staggered up from the sand, apparently trying to leave from the edge of the beach, but before he could steady himself, a wave half the height of a man splashed up, pushing him back down onto the sand.

Fate seemed to have played a joke on him.

Carried to shore with him was also a dizzy mutated sea crab.

The crab shook its huge shell, about to shuffle back to the sea when it suddenly noticed the struggling figure on the beach and couldn’t move its crab legs anymore.

Seeing this scene from afar, Old White slightly narrowed his eyes and put down his bottle of wine.

Sensing the scent of a side quest, Killer Dagger sitting nearby became interested and immediately set down his half-eaten leg meat.

"I’ll go help him!"

Ignoring Old Kidney’s objections, he wiped his greasy hands on his good friend’s clothes, quickly picked up the assault rifle lying nearby, and moved forward a few steps, firing two shots onto the sand, driving the directionally confused mutated sea crab back a few steps.

Taking advantage of the mutated sea crab’s moment of bewilderment, he kept firing to attract its attention while quickly rushing over, pulling the unlucky drenched chicken back from the sand.

A member of the Jungle Corps expertly picked up an absurdly large bomb gun, rested it on his shoulder, and pulled the trigger.

The recoil slammed into his shoulder, but the 19mm explosive arrow was clear-cut and hit the brain of the sea crab accurately.

Hot metal spewed from the back of the creature’s head, and it fell silently onto the beach.

"Time to stock up, brothers! Crab barbecue coming up!" the player laughed, his shoulder nearly dislocated from the shock, and he ran up with a fishing net.

Meanwhile, the man soaked by seawater was carried back with a Killer Dagger resting on his shoulder. When the hand was released, he collapsed onto the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

"Hey, take it easy."

"Thank you... thank you..."

The man on the ground looked gaunt, his lips turned blue from cold, curled up and shivering, repeatedly murmuring his thanks, unresponsive to what others were saying.

His wet hair stuck to his forehead, and he gasped for air with a look of utter shock, appearing as if he had encountered something horrifying.

Facing the puzzled looks of the others, he seemed blind to it, his murky pupils drifting aimlessly, finally settling on the oily piece of meat roasting over the fire.

His adam’s apple moved up and down as if swallowing the little saliva he had left, his desperate eyes slowly filling with a longing for food.

Old White crouched in front of him and handed over a piece of bun that Manager Yi hadn’t managed to fry yet and a cup of hot citron tea.

"Have something to eat first."

The man nodded frantically and grabbed the bun, immediately forgetting his initial politeness, wolfing down the food.

Only after finishing the bun and gulping it down with the water did Old White look into his eyes and ask.

"I am Old White, what’s your name?"

Catching his breath, the man trembled and said,

"Huang... Huang Guangwei."

Old White continued.

"Where are you from?"

Instantly, the man looked at Old White warily, glanced around quickly, and shut his mouth tightly, not saying another word.

Seeing the wariness in the man’s eyes, Old White smiled gently and spoke in a soothing tone.

"Don’t be afraid, we are people of the Alliance, if you haven’t heard of the Alliance... maybe you’ve heard of Shelter No. 404."

As he spoke, he brought out his VM, clicked twice, and turned on the screen.

Seeing the light blue boot screen on the VM, the man visibly relaxed, and much of the suspicion in his eyes faded.

Noticing his reaction, Old White guessed his situation, pulled out the headset he carried with him, hung it on his ear, and pressed it while speaking.

"Fang Chang, come over to the One Man Bar here, we may have an NPC from Shelter No. 70."

After a short wait, Fang Chang’s voice quickly came through.

"I’ll be right there."

Just as Old White had predicted, the dispirited man slowly spoke.

"I... am from Shelter No. 70..."

After saying this, he grasped Old White’s arm, his eyes pleading.

"Please help me... I beg you, for the sake of us both being residents of shelters!"