This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 710 No War at the Front Today

Chapter 710: Chapter 710 No War at the Front Today

The outskirts to the east of the City of Thousand Pillars.

Serpentine trenches twisted like contorted centipedes, etched into the position, brutally bisecting the land into two halves.

Soldiers in steel helmets stood tensely in the trenches, hands tightly gripping their rifles, leaning forward, eyes narrowed, and fixated on the wasteland ahead.

Even though it was a rare sunny day in the rainy season, an invisible dark cloud weighed heavily atop everyone’s head, suffocating not only the soldiers in the trenches but also the fish in the Everflow River.

Within the front-line observation post.

General Arai Yang’s brows were tightly furrowed as he stared intently at the distant dirt mound.

The corners of his eyes were deeply wrinkled, the dark bags under his eyes slightly swollen, pupils murky like the waters of the Everflow River, with hints of silver at his temples. His haggard face seemed to have aged a dozen years overnight, starkly contrasting the vigor of just a week earlier.

Gopal, standing beside him, also sported an expression of someone who hadn’t slept well. Normally full of ideas, he now remained silent and muted.

An entire ten thousand troops had been captured as a whole...

Such an event had never occurred since the birth of the dynasty in Poluo Province!

This was not merely a disgrace for the few officers, but a shame for the entire Grey Wolf Army—and all of the Wolf clan.

Even more distressing were the more than ten thousand captive Wolf Nation Warriors.

Their captors were the most vicious thugs of Jinjaron Harbor, a group of slaves tormented to the point where both their bodies and spirits were twisted.

Heaven only knows the indignities those proud members of the Wolf Nation would suffer at their hands.

However, even with their hearts heavy for those young men’s plight, they were momentarily powerless to worry about those unfortunate souls.

At the same time, the news of the defeat at the front lines reached the Royal City, the emperor in Tiandu quickly sent a telegram, demanding they retreat a hundred kilometers to defend the vicinity around the City of Thousand Pillars and cease all offensive actions against the Alliance.

The City of Thousand Pillars was the Sacred Land of the West Winds Empire and a sacred site in the hearts of all survivors from Poluo Province. The iron chains winding around each totem pillar symbolized blessings upon the land, with scores of pilgrims flocking to this place annually to pray for inner peace and tranquility.

If the Alliance were to capture this place, not only would the royal dignity of the West Winds Empire be swept away, but the stability of the entire province would be severely affected.

Thugs who plundered and killed in the name of doomsday would sweep across Poluo Province.

Under no circumstances could this settlement fall into the hands of the Alliance!

General Arai Yang was prepared to fight to the death.

At this time, his adjutant ran in from the rear trench, gasping for breath and saluting.

"Report! All buildings in the combat zone have been evacuated, and there’s not a single piece of cover or a patch of farmland left along the entire frontline! I assure you, except for our own people, not even a mouse can be seen!"

Arai Yang nodded and didn’t inquire where those troublesome survivors were sent. He simply continued to lift the binoculars and watch the eastern side.

It was silent there, save for a few dilapidated abandoned houses, with not a trace of human presence.

Gopal, the staff officer standing next to him, finally spoke up.

"The Alliance has adhered to the ceasefire agreement... It seems that in the end, they don’t want to escalate things too much."

Relief tinged his voice.

However, almost as soon as his words fell, an indistinct trail of dust appeared on the distant wasteland.

Upon the sighting of the dust, all the officers in the observation post were momentarily stunned, but Arai Yang was the first to snap back to reality, bellowing loudly.

"Prepare for battle!"

As his shout ended, a harsh alarm sounded along the tens of kilometers long trench.

Gunners hastily loaded belt-fed ammunition into the machine guns perched in the emplacements, while artillerymen frantically turned cranks, nearly creating sparks from the rapid movement.

Soldiers with rifles emerged from bomb shelters into a line, chests pressed against the edge of the trench, their anxious gaze directed outside, aligned with the rifles in their hands.

Glittering bayonets flickered blindingly under the harsh sun.

Everyone tensely watched the dust cloud drawing closer, awaiting the order to fire, all the while praying dearly in their hearts that the order would never come.

Most here had lived through the great escape by the banks of the Everflow River, where over ten thousand were chased by a mere two hundred, and some even leapt into the river.

The memory of that fear was deeply etched into every Wolf Nation Soldier’s heart.

No one wanted to relive the terror of that day...

Arai Yang’s expression was stony and silent, as if pondering something. Gopal, standing beside him, was drenched in sweat, his hands trembling as he held the binoculars.

This was the front line—

He swallowed hard and said nervously.

"General, if the Alliance dares to break the ceasefire agreement, this will be the front line. We should at least move back a bit—"

In fact, it had already been broken.

Before the formal ceasefire agreement was signed, Alliance soldiers were forbidden from stepping one foot out of Jinjaron Harbor. Now the only certainty was that the person was one of the Alliance people, or one of the pseudo-armies made up of rebels and thugs.

"Wait a bit longer."

Arai Yang interrupted him, his gaze still fixed ahead.

The dust cloud finally approached.

An armored off-road vehicle, painted desert camo, came into view of the officers, stopping about a kilometer from the trench.

Some of the soldiers in front, with keener eyesight, could even make out details with the naked eye, their hands gripping the rifles growing sweaty.

As everyone waited in bated breath, the vehicle door was pushed open, and a soldier wearing an exoskeleton jumped down.

He hoisted a flagpole over his shoulder, and when unfurled, it was three people tall, with a blue background featuring a golden, distinctly segmented mass, and the Alliance emblem in the upper-left corner.

The officers were all taken aback, unsure of what he was up to. In the trenches, the soldiers’ hearts sank, a sense of despair nearly overwhelming them.

There was no doubt—

The exoskeleton belonged to an Alliance soldier!

They didn’t even bother changing into civilian clothes...

The wind from the Everflow River made the flag flutter loudly. "Zero Rush" lifted his helmet’s visor and goggles to get some air and almost passed out from the stench.

He flashed an awkward smile toward the silent, solemn trenches in the distance, then resealed his visor and proceeded to drive the three-man tall flagpole forcefully into the soil beneath his feet.

Powered by the exoskeleton, the flagpole penetrated deep into the ground, as deep as a man is tall—not only beside the Everflow River but also into the hearts of the onlooking Wolf Nation Soldiers.

Soldiers and officers in the distant trenches watched with wide eyes, but not a single one fired their weapon. They silently swallowed the humiliation.

An Empire soldier, grinding his teeth in anger, wanted to take aim but was stopped by the Centurion beside him, who held the gun barrel and shook his head.

In the observation post, Gopal swallowed hard once more and, disguising his embarrassment with a forced smile, tried to sound calm.

"They’re showing remarkable restraint..." he said.

Arai Yang did not respond, and neither did his adjutant behind him. Feeling how futile his laughter was, Gopal chuckled awkwardly again and turned his attention back to the binoculars in his hands.

The soldier who had planted the flag returned to the vehicle, and it seemed that a chain with a harrow-like implement at its end was dropped from the back.

The off-road vehicle restarted, turned on the spot, and sped away along the Everflow River, parallel to the trench.

The massive tires kicked up billowing dust, the taut chain clanked, and a shallow trench was plowed into the ground.

In that moment, the officers in the observation post finally understood their intentions, and anger rose on each face.

That flagpole marked the position of the ceasefire line!

In the face of the Empire’s three hundred thousand troops, they had sent only a flagpole!

This was a naked provocation!

A provocation against the Grey Wolf Army and the entire Empire!

"Those bastards!" cursed the adjutant standing behind Arai Yang, itching to shoot the rear of that vehicle. Then, looking earnestly at General Arai Yang, he said, "General, give the order! They’re the ones who broke the agreement first!"

Arai Yang remained silent. Upon hearing this, Gopal, the staff officer standing nearby, was startled and hastily interjected.

"The ceasefire has not yet been signed; the command to keep those bandits in their settlements was merely His Majesty’s unilateral demand... They indeed are not obligated to observe an agreement that hasn’t been signed. Accusing them of breaking it isn’t accurate."

"Are we supposed to just watch as these guys make a round trip right under our noses?!" The adjutant clenched his fists in anger. "Never mind what the soldiers think; how do we explain this to His Majesty?!"

"This is precisely His Majesty’s intention..." Gopal coughed softly and hastened to add in a low voice, "Do you remember the previous ceasefire edict? The important content was in the title; as for the content, it was actually secondary..."

Arai Yang silently nodded, still without a word, and slowly set down his binoculars. He walked past the astounded adjutant and left the frontline observation post.

Gopal was absolutely right.

A loyal subject’s greatest concern should be for His Majesty’s painstaking efforts; ability, on the other hand, was not the most important quality.

If he obstinately gave the order to fire, even if an army of three hundred thousand swept out and smashed Jinjaron Harbor to bits, even if they won a gratifying victory, he would have no good end in sight. At most, weeds would sprout a few meters tall on his grave within three to five years.

But if he took every word of His Majesty to heart, even if he fought the dullest battle, at most he would be scolded a bit and endure some spitting from the citizens of Tiandu. In the end, he would likely be raised high and then gently let down without actually being punished.

Wasn’t sharing some of the blame on behalf of the royal family precisely what a subject should do?

Watching that lonely figure turning back to the trenches, Gopal’s face showed a slight discomfort, although he also breathed a sigh of relief in his heart.

With a soft sigh, he reached out to pat the shoulder of his wide-eyed deputy, then stepped past him and followed the general back to the frontline headquarters.

Today, the banks of the Everflow River were calm, with no signs of conflict on the eastern front.

Later, a decree was issued declaring that a gentle breeze blew through the outskirts of the City of Thousand Pillars, with occasional armored forces of the Alliance boldly intruding, hoping to cross the ceasefire line and launch a sneak attack, only to find General Arai Yang’s defense impenetrable as a metal fortress, leaving no opportunity to exploit, and thus they dropped their flags and fled in panic.

The propaganda posters bore photos of the disgraceful retreat.

The billowing dust raised by the vehicle wheels indeed looked hasty, and it somewhat redeemed the disgraced General Arai Yang, restoring some of his reputation.

In the dead of night, that off-road vehicle that had fled in a hurry eventually made its way along the coastline, back to Jinjaron Harbor.

Looking at the distant, faint lights, Two Ounces of Moonlight, sitting in the driver’s seat, let out a long yawn and grumbled as he moved his slightly sore arms.

"MMP! Why is it always us who get these crappy jobs that pay little money?"

Sitting in the co-pilot seat and ’away from keyboard,’ Mountain River did not speak but glanced at the rearview mirror subconsciously, hoping a certain "true beginner" would reflect on this.

However, perhaps because the "version beginner" was sitting right beside him, Zero Rush seemed not to realize that he was the "true beginner" in question.

Misunderstanding the captain’s look, he sat up straight from his seat, lively and excited.

"Been running all day, should we find someone to give us a massage later?"

Mountain River coughed once.

"Just don’t go into another villager’s house, okay?"

Zero Rush smiled and wiggled his eyebrows.

"Who the hell bothers going into a villager’s house, man? I mean there’s a new massage parlor opened up north of the city."

The just-awakened Firstborn heard the tail end of the conversation and blurted out instinctively.

"Holy shit, who’s the genius behind that?"

Zero Rush chuckled with a hee-hee.

"Who cares who the genius is, probably some lifestyle career player... relax, Blue Ground Squirrel doesn’t scam Blue Ground Squirrel; definitely legit! The ones opened by locals, they’re not legit!"

Since their last battle report was posted on the Forum, Jinjaron Harbor had seen an influx of players looking to join the excitement, particularly those active around Silver Moon Bay. They brought not only money and goods but also introduced some of their local industries.

With Jin Galun Harbor in need of reconstruction, business opportunities abound everywhere.

Even providing residents of the City of Dawn with just one more coat in their wardrobes or an extra pair of shoes in their shoe cabinets could fetch enough money in the real world to buy a house.

Thus, players with life-based professions have been demonstrating their creative skills, coming up with just about every possible way to make money, whether from the locals or from the stationed armed forces.

Naturally, the industries operated by the players are quite formal. After all, the circle of closed beta players is too small, and any little scandal will end up being bickered about on the forums and eventually catch the eyes of the "Dog plan," which wouldn’t be too good in the end.

"Well, forget it."

With an expression of boredom, the Firstborn yawned and shifted his position. Looking as if he had kidney deficiency, he closed his eyes again, "I might as well go back to being informal."

Moonlight: "??"

Zero Rush: "???"

Mountain River: "..."

MMP!

How exactly did he end up drawing such a bunch of oddballs!

...

Even though a formal ceasefire agreement had not yet been signed, a temporary ceasefire had effectively been put in place due to both parties’ restrained behavior.

The players stationed at Jin Galun Harbor used data from drone mapping to outline a territory of approximately ten thousand square kilometers with the port as the pivot.

Compared to the buffer zone proposed by the West Winds Empire, the announcement drafted by the players was much more straightforward.

They first announced the establishment of Z Mansion in the Jin Galun Harbor area and then claimed actual control over the region in the name of Jin Galun Harbor.

The current police chief of Jin Galun Harbor is Director Bihari, while the chief of the Tulip Street and port area bureaus is Mandar, who was the duty director before.

Except for the chief judge of the original community court, who was dismissed for refusing to serve the new authorities and was replaced by a citizen who had served as a recording officer at the port area court, no other administrative positions, including customs, taxation, education, transportation, fire services, and so on, have been changed for the time being.

In addition, a Civil Defence Office has been specially established in Jin Galun Harbor.

The original First Corps of the Avengers Alliance has officially been renamed the Militia Group, under the command of the Civil Defence Office, while the wartime command is held by the Alliance Army stationed at the port.

The former corps commander, Laxi, has been promoted to director of the Civil Defence Office, in charge of strategic deployment and logistics, no longer directly commanding front-line combat troops or engaging in frontline combat.

Although this guy is talented, both in terms of motivational power and execution, far surpassing other freed slaves, his impulsiveness is not an issue to be overlooked.

Thus, after discussions on the forum among a number of players, it was finally decided to move him away from the frontline to the rear to sit in the office.

This would cultivate his military capabilities; who knows, he might be useful in the future, and it would also prevent him from causing trouble, such as firing randomly on the frontline.

With a series of personnel appointments put in place, a framework for a temporary Z Mansion in the region was hastily erected.

The players, who were adept at creating disturbances, even designed a new currency for this nascent regional government called the Gallon, with a provisional exchange rate of 10:1 against the silver coin.

That is, 1 silver coin for 10 Gallons.

They did this mainly because the West Winds Empire had closed its market to Jin Galun Harbor, leading to a continuous depreciation in the purchasing power of the West Winds currency locally, and since Jin Galun Harbor isn’t Alliance territory like Potato Harbor, it was inconvenient for players to integrate it directly into the Alliance market.

After all, doing so would mean forcibly integrating a settlement with a population of a million into a "customs union," and it wouldn’t be clear who was benefiting in the end.

By contrast, introducing an intermediary currency seemed like a good choice.

With this, Jin Galun Harbor could formulate either a loose or tight monetary policy based on its own economic needs. Inflation caused by an oversupply of money would not impact the Alliance market, while also reducing the impact of the West Winds currency devaluation on the financial affairs of the settlement.

As for the original currency of the West Winds, it could still circulate freely within the settlement, or survivors could, using their skills, smuggle in the supplies needed at the port from other areas of Poluo Province.

However, imported goods invoiced in silver coins, including food and production tools, brought from the Alliance would need to be purchased with the Gallons issued by the Jin Galun Port Authority.

At the same time, all fiscal expenditures within Jin Galun Harbor, be it personnel salary expenses or goods procurement, will gradually shift from "foreign currency (West Winds coins)" settlement to payments in the newly issued Gallons.

Tax collection would remain unchanged in rate, but would synchronize with the change in settlement currency to the newly established legal tender.

Of course, the right to issue currency would be held by the Jin Galun Port Authority, with the port’s bank as the issuing entity.

Apart from the vacant position of the lord of the settlement, everything from defense to public order had essentially been brought back on track.

Currently, the settlement temporarily implements the laws of the Alliance.

When the time is ripe, "shareholders of Baiyue Corporation" would consider convening representatives from all industries and strata of the local community to form a council similar to that of the City of Dawn and, based on the Alliance’s "Basic Law," draft a "Common Law" suitable to the local practical conditions.

But honestly, although order in Jin Galun Harbor had been restored to normal, the efficiency of this vast machinery of government was still frustratingly slow.

The previous Governor Nihak, though an expert in "haggling," was utterly clueless about regional governance.

This could be deduced from the slums spread out next to the Governor’s Mansion; this settlement of over a million people lacked any planning whatsoever.

He would rather tolerate the stench just a stone’s throw away than reallocate funds from the treasury to build a drainage ditch for the slums.

Not only that, but apart from the organizational structure of the customs and taxation departments, which had some merit, the rest of the departments appeared to be mere window dressing, with no clear idea of even how many people they had under them or if they had anyone at all...

...

In the port area, the former Governor’s Office.

Looking at the fire chief standing nervously before his desk, Fang Chang couldn’t help but tap the ledger on the table with his knuckles and ask.

"Where’s the money? I want to know where the money went?"

The man was startled, fearful that he would pull out a gun and press it against his head, and hastened to reply carefully.

"Sir... isn’t the money all in your hands?"

He had heard about it.

The first thing the Iron Men did after landing was to take control of the bureaus, next was that big bank on Tulip Street.

The five hundred million Dinars that His Majesty had kept there had all gone into these people’s pockets, and so did those ten-plus million West Winds coins, all as war reparations.

Fang Chang rolled his eyes, restraining his temper as he continued to speak.

"I’m asking about before! It’s clearly written in the ledger that the Governor’s Mansion allocates thirty million West Winds coins every year for the fire-fighting matters of Jin Galun Port. You spend this budget entirely each year, yet I damned ask how many fire stations there are in the entire settlement – you don’t even know how many firefighters there are!"

"Sir, most of that money is managed by Governor Ni Hak; I truly have never even seen it!" The man, nearly in tears, kept wiping the sweat from his forehead, "As for firefighting... it’s mainly handled by the survivor groups in each urban district on their own. We don’t have any money; we can’t just conjure a fire brigade out of thin air."

Of course, he had taken a little for himself, but it was nowhere near as much as Governor Ni Hak had. Compared to him, it wasn’t even at the same level.

Fang Chang glared with narrowed eyes, although he had already expected this, he couldn’t help but ask,

"What the hell does ’handle it on their own’ mean?!"

Not daring to meet the official’s gaze, the man’s eyes shifted to the side as he stammered softly,

"Each community has its own organization... In more remote suburban areas, it’s usually the elders of a clan who arrange for a few young lads to handle disaster prevention. In areas where multiple clans live together, it’s often a few strong and robust fellows who band together to collect fire money and head out wherever there’s a fire."

Fang Chang stared at him, dumbfounded.

"...And what about Tulip Street?"

The man said with a pained expression, "The owners of those houses all have their own servants. There are people watching the courtyards every day; how could they possibly let a fire break out?"

Wow!

These self-governing rates are maxed out, huh?!

Fang Chang was entirely astounded.

Normally, the property management fees and services of a neighborhood should be proportional, yet under Governor Ni Hak’s tenure, it was entirely the opposite.

There were many tax entries in the ledger, and firefighting expenditures were thoroughly recorded, yet the specific responsible units were unable to operate due to lack of funds. They had to delegate the power and responsibility to the more grassroots level, forcing the local survivors to form their own private groups to maintain basic public facilities, and spend money on the same matter again.

In some sense, Governor Ni Hak, who managed to collect these taxes, was talented, and the survivors of this settlement were also talented. The excellent regional matching mechanism of the Wasteland perfectly matched them together.

If Elder Sid were to lead these folks, even if he produced all the ABCDEF coins and the Manager stuffed Melvin, the bank manager’s drawer full of IOUs, Giant Stone City might not go bankrupt. Perhaps it could even compete to and fro with the Alliance during the same era.

This wasn’t an impossible scenario; the locals, who hoped for a better life in the hereafter, were like docile lambs. No wonder the Weilante People considered them friends.

Not fleecing this bunch a good one, Fang Chang felt that his moral standards had indeed improved a bit, because of Miss Dolly.

In the past, he would definitely have fully exploited game rules to drain them dry – as for what happened to the people here afterwards, that was none of his business.

Seeing the official’s shifting gaze, the man felt a creeping fear, involuntarily swallowing his saliva, carefully saying,

"Actually... the slums rarely catch fire. You don’t need to worry too much about those guys."

He paused, tentatively continuing,

"I’ve lived here for so many years and have hardly seen any big fires, nor have I heard of anyone dying by fire. Besides, their way of eating usually doesn’t require fire, and they don’t use hot water much either. As for the citizens, they live quite well without us – everything just going on as usual isn’t too bad—"

"Why would I still need you? If everything carries on as usual whether you exist or not, it’s all damn the same." With no courtesy, he interrupted the man’s speech and flung the ledger back at his chest, filled with an iron-forged sense of frustration.

Looking at the man hurriedly taking over the ledger, he stood up from his seat, reached out to grab the guy’s collar, and stared into those evasive eyes as he spoke slowly and deliberately.

"Within three days, I want to see a complete list!"

"The list needs to have the actual accountable persons for fire safety problems on every street, I need you to pin down each street for me, including the areas they actually oversee, even if those parts have been demolished, find them for me! Remember, don’t expect to just find a few people to make up the numbers, we have our own informants on the ground, we are not blind!"

The man was so anxious that he broke into a sweat, looking like he was about to cry.

"But, sir... I don’t have any staff, all the money is in Governor Nehak’s hands, and our entire department only has ten people."

He had even counted his underage son, otherwise, the department couldn’t even muster ten people.

"Then go recruit more! Get me another twenty! Remember, you are not allowed to recruit from your own clan! Not a single one!"

"Yes, yes—!"

Watching the man scurry out of the office, tumbling and stumbling, Fang Chang exhaled a breath of foul air and picked up the cup on the table for a sip of tea.

These guys.

If it weren’t for others being even worse, unable to pick out a taller one from a bunch of dwarfs, and having to settle for those who were more skilled, he would have liked to fire them all right away!

Picking up the roster on the table, Fang Chang took a deep breath and yelled out of the office.

"Next! Prasad, the one in charge of the sewers... do you bloody plan to keep the shit in the cesspit to generate electricity? If you don’t clean it up, I will make you go swimming down there! Get in here!"

That hoarse shout was like the harrowing call of a reaper.

When the people lined up in the long queue outside the office heard it, their bodies all shivered in unison, dreading that their name might be called.

But the inevitable was bound to come.

"Yes, yes! Sir! I-I-I will!"

The man whose name was called turned pale, and under the watchful eyes of two militiamen with rifles slung over their shoulders, he walked tremulously out of the line and into the office like a man headed for the gallows.

The rough roar quickly came again, and the officials standing at the door all shrank their necks and closed their eyes, as if they themselves were being spat on.

Because the problems were almost identical—

They might as well have seen what was going to happen next.

The two militiamen carrying the LD-47 in the corridor couldn’t help but yawn, their gaze aimlessly drifting over the crowd.

The officer hadn’t given them any specific orders; he just called for them to bring the tools of their trade, and they did, but there was no follow-up, only the sight of a crowd of officials appointed by the former governor trembling with hunched shoulders.

Suppertime was approaching.

Today’s dinner was said not to include beans or dirt, but instead, a thing called corn, supposedly transported on a large cargo ship from Silver Moon Bay.

That was an imported good not purchasable with West Winds currency, only affording by the masters. The two were so hungry their stomachs were growling, and they couldn’t help but murmur in their hearts.

When would the target practice finally begin...