This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 711: Truly Fragrant!

Chapter 711: Chapter 711: Truly Fragrant!

Indeed, shouting did prove somewhat useful.

Considering those two barbarians with rifles in the hallway outside, the officials, who had been penned up for years, finally put on a bit of a serious attitude.

As for the outcome, we still have to wait for the following news.

However, Fang Chang hadn’t placed all his hopes on these insects.

He was only using them temporarily because there was no one else available; firing everyone right away would bring no benefit beyond the brief satisfaction.

Fang Chang was well aware that while these fellows appeared clueless on the surface, they were actually intricately connected with the grassroots behind the scenes.

They devolved some of their power and duties to local community groups, allowing these groups to "legally" collect "fire money," "water money," and "sanitation fees," and these groups would certainly have to kick back some benefits to them.

In other words, these guys were likely not just taking money without doing the work, but "taking money twice without doing the work"! Most of the poor in Jin Galun Port had to pay three times for the same public matters—including the money to those community groups.

In such a situation, it would be a miracle if people could keep from eating dirt and afford to wear clothes!

Although most settlements in the Alliance also adhered to the principle of "survivor’s choice," they never sold off public matters to private entities, let alone outright handed them over to violent associations. This was no longer a matter of the rate of autonomy, but pure rot!

If the problem of paying thrice for one thing isn’t solved, no matter what they do in Jin Galun, there won’t be much change in people’s lives.

For the first step, he planned to leverage the remaining authority of the old bureaucratic machinery and the coercive power of the Militia Group to take back some of the rights and duties that had been delegated to who knows where, or simply to win over some of the more competent fellows.

For the second step, he needed to recruit some capable lower-level personnel from the literate citizenry to gradually replace the already decaying blood, and even to cultivate a qualified city lord, or rather, mayor, to coordinate with the future governor of Jin Galun.

That is, if the Manager decided to send a governor here.

...

"...This place is worse than we imagined; it’s like an orange rotting from the inside, you have no idea what’s going on inside until you peel it. Chief Bahari was right, if we abolish slavery here, this settlement will be submerged under a mountain of excrement within a week, but we still have to do this."

After coming out of the Governor’s Office, Fang Chang met up with Old White, who had returned from Lowell Camp, and talked about what had just happened on their way.

Before "clocking out," he had signed a recruitment order, offering a monthly salary of 2,000 gallons to enlist two hundred literate citizens into the city hall.

After a period of training, he would arrange specfic departments and work for them based on the organizational structure previously discussed on the Forum, and merge and reorganize the departments from the old era of Governor Nehak, concentrating the old bureaucrats in an Edge department to be gradually eliminated, completing the final blood change.

This organizational structure was originally meant for Potato Harbor, but unfortunately, there were too few people there now to make use of it.

Instead, it came to the survivors of Jin Galun Port.

Seeing Fang Chang shaking his head, Old White laughed with a grin.

"Do you still remember the original purpose of our coming here?"

Fang Chang paused for a moment, then said.

"To teach the jumping clowns a lesson, and by the way, to liberate some slaves to go back to work... What’s going on?"

"We seem to be in the business of poverty alleviation now, look at how hard you’re working," said Old White with a laugh, "Don’t be too impatient, some things can’t be changed overnight."

"I’m not in a hurry, what do I have to be anxious about? And it isn’t poverty alleviation; it’s that a bunch of poor wretches are simply not worth squeezing. If we want to gain enough benefits from the local area, we need to enrich the locals first or at least let them live with some dignity." Fang Chang sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering to himself, "...literacy is a big problem; we need to move quickly with the literacy education."

He had previously hired a group of doctors from Silver Moon Bay to treat the injured captives; perhaps they should invite some teachers over as well.

Watching Fang Chang lost in thought, Old White gave him a "whatever you say" look and patted his good brother’s shoulder with a laugh.

"Here’s some good news. The reconnaissance team we sent north has collected information. According to the locals, there’s a Guerrilla Team active in the mountainous area on the north bank of the Everflow River. Although they haven’t noticed our signal yet, they should have already seen what’s happening in Jin Galun. Perhaps someone will come in contact with us soon."

Fang Chang pondered for a moment and then said.

"Keep searching, hopefully there are some talents we need... Wait, do you smell something?"

While they were talking, a faint sweet aroma suddenly entered his nostrils, seeming to drift along the street from the direction of the docks on the sea breeze.

Strange.

It wasn’t the smell of fish coming from there.

Seeing the surprised expression on Fang Chang’s face, Old White laughed and said.

"That’s the second piece of good news."

"Tail and the others just arrived."

...

"Oh! Jin Galun Port!"

"It’s only been over two months, but it feels like a long time has passed."

"Yes, yes! Huge changes, giao!"

Time went back to a few hours earlier, on the deck of the Meat Meat.

Tail and Meat Meat, standing on their toes at the bow, excitedly looked toward the port and gestured towards the buildings there.

The dock was still the same, but the lifting devices for moving goods were changed from wooden cranes to electric-driven metal wheel machines, and the vehicles for moving goods were switched from ox-carts and manual labor to forklifts, pushcarts, and light and heavy trucks produced from Dawn City and Giant Stone City.

The area near the port was filled with box upon box of military supplies; militiamen with white bands on their arms replaced the Empire’s soldiers on patrol along the shore.

The only downer was that the place, compared to two months ago, seemed a little desolate—only a few fishing boats were docked.

This might have been due to the shutdown of the slave trade and the impact of the war; cargo ships from the West Coast of the Poluo Province were nearly extinct, and the trading ships of the Weilante People were nowhere to be seen.

But this also made room for the merchant ships from Silver Moon Bay.

This time, the Meat Meat didn’t just bring a thousand tons of shelled and dehydrated corn, but also an entire convoy loaded with goods!

Previously at Silver Moon Bay, Si Si, through the banking services under the White Bear Knights, released news that a ceasefire agreement was impending and that the Empire would impose an embargo on Jin Galun Harbor. Then, Si Si instructed the bank manager, Old Buma, to offer a very low-interest loan to specific shipping routes and commodities.

No deliberate promotion was needed; with the support of information and capital, active traders at the port naturally descended like sharks to a scent of blood, bringing the needed goods.

Sitting in the cockpit, Si Si skilfully blew the steam whistle to greet friends on the dock.

At the stern, Sesame Paste signaled to the crew from Silver Moon Bay, preparing to dock and unload.

With everyone’s concerted efforts, a series of cargo ships finally managed to dock at the port before dusk. Containers full of goods were moved onto the port with the help of cranes, then a couple of forklifts transported them to the container yard.

This place used to be a transit point for people and a battleground for the White Bear Knights.

Since the arrival of the Alliance, the facilities here had been thoroughly cleared, leaving behind a plot smaller than twenty square meters as a memorial to history. The rest of the area had been transformed into a container yard to increase the port’s warehouse capacity.

Thanks to the full cooperation in port management, port workers prioritized the inventory check for food-type commodities and stamped the batch of goods purchased by Jin Galun Port Authority on the spot, completing the delivery and making a one-off payment for all goods.

Then, a dozen or so trucks drove into the container parking area.

With the hard work of the bare-chested laborers, bags of corn and flour were tossed into the trucks, departing in the direction of various construction sites managed by Jin Galun Port Authority, Lowell Camp, and the direction of the POW Camp outside of town.

A total of eight thousand tons of peeled and dehydrated corn was sold at a wholesale price of 700 silver coins per ton! There were also nearly three thousand tons of cornmeal, also sold at 900 silver coins per ton!

In Luo Xia Province, especially in the Lion Kingdom which imports a large amount of fertilizer, pesticides, and high-yield seeds from the Alliance, the production cost of one kilogram of corn is only 0.2 to 0.3 silver coins! And since the railway from Lion City and Falling Leaves City to Petra Fortress became operational, transportation costs have been reduced to less than 50% of the production costs.

Even factoring in the sea transport section and deducting the array of costs, including the wages of crews and mercenaries, the total cost of one ton of corn is below 600 silver coins. And if it’s your own ship and private guards, the cost can even be pressed close to 500 silver coins!

This at least 16% return rate on the commodity profit margin is enough to drive all merchants coming here for business crazy!

For the Jin Galun Port Authority facing the threat of famine, this batch of grain worth more than eight million silver coins is a timely relief to the settlement’s urgent needs.

When evenly distributed into every person’s hands, one could get about 11 kilograms of carbohydrates.

Of course, the final distribution method certainly would not be such a simple and crude method.

The authorities of Jin Galun Harbor would initiate a number of municipal projects through work-relief efforts, like the ongoing reform of the Krabi Market and the construction of several major traffic arteries and sewers, etc.

Through these projects, the authorities would pay salaries and payments in Gallon coins to those involved in the construction, and this grain imported from the port could only be purchased with Gallon coins.

In this way, they could prevent citizens holding a large amount of West Winds currency and the old aristocracy from hoarding food, while also finding employment for the large population of young and strong labor forces, incidentally improving the infrastructure of Jin Galun Harbor, and precisely directing money into the hands of those who needed it.

It was a quadruple win.

As for the foreign exchange spent on purchasing grain, it was ostensibly borrowed from the well-funded Baiyue Corporation, but ultimately, the reparations to be paid by the Emperor of the West Winds Empire would settle the bill.

How many times exactly the Alliance had won in this battle, Fang Chang no longer bothered to calculate for the respected Manager...

In any event, he had nailed this opportunity.

...

On the outskirts of the city, the POW Camp.

Unsure how long he had been unconscious, Caper woke up groggily from his coma.

When he saw the man in the white coat before his eyes, he almost instinctively opened his mouth and a hoarse word squeezed out from his inflamed throat.

"Where is this..."

The doctor glanced at him and replied casually,

"Jin Galun Harbor."

His accent sounded like someone from Camel Hump Kingdom.

But that wasn’t the point—

A flicker of joy appeared on Caper’s face as he excitedly reached out his stiff right hand, grabbing the man in the white coat by the sleeve.

"Did we win?!"

The doctor was taken aback for a moment, then smiled at him.

"What kind of nonsense are you talking about?"

Saying so, he called out to someone next to him.

"This guy woke up, but he’s not quite right in the head, the rest is up to you guys."

A vague shout came from a distance.

"Okay, as long as he’s awake, leave the rest to us. You go on to other matters."

"Understood."

The doctor lifted his pen-holding hand as a form of acknowledgement, hurriedly scribbled a few words in a notebook, then left the cramped tent.

Caper watched the man bewilderedly, his outstretched right hand unconsciously losing its strength and falling, only realizing when the person had walked away. He then shifted his stiff neck to survey his surroundings.

It seemed to be a military hospital; the cramped tent was filled with about a dozen beds, all occupied by people wrapped in bandages, a deathly still atmosphere.

Then he looked down at himself, half of his body exposed at the edge of the blanket was tightly wound in bandages.

What horrified him even more was his right hand.

Only now did he notice that his right hand, starting from the elbow joint, had all been replaced with a clunky metal prosthetic.

The memory before losing consciousness hesitantly flooded his mind, he remembered being knocked out by a mortar shell when attacking the Governor’s Mansion.

At that moment, a man in khaki-colored uniform lifted the tent flap and entered, walking straight to his bed.

"Twelve bullet fragments in your body, only ten were removed, it’s a miracle you’re alive."

Looking down at the fellow lying on the bed, the man continued in a sarcastic tone, "Of course, your teammates weren’t so lucky, nine of them couldn’t even make up a whole corpse."

Gone... all gone...

Caper’s Adam’s apple moved, but he couldn’t utter a word for a long time.

He didn’t know why.

When he heard these words, there was not a ripple of anger in his heart, only numbness and bewilderment.

If it had been one person who had died, he would have remembered that guy’s name, visited his grave every now and then, and even reminisced about what he had been like when he was still around,

but when the number of the dead became so large that they could only be summed up by a carelessly scribbled number, the weight allotted to each name seemed trivial.

Maybe General Arai Yang felt the same way when faced with that number...

He just felt that his own survival was so unreal.

"...Who are you?" Though he had already guessed the man’s identity, Caper still mustered the question with difficulty from his throat.

"I am a clerk of the Captive Affairs Department of the Jin Galun Harbour Civil Defence Office; as for my name, you don’t need to know it. You just need to know that you are a captive."

Saying this, the man flicked his thumb and tossed a coin-sized iron tag onto his blanket, inscribed with a string of numbers.

"This is your number. After you get up, take it outside to register your name and address; you’ll need it when you pick up your boxed meal, if you still want to eat, that is."

After giving his instructions, the man turned and walked towards the entrance of the tent. Caper, who had come to his senses, suddenly remembered something and hurriedly called out to him.

"Wait, my hand..."

"It was ruined, so we replaced it with a new one," said the man who claimed to be from the Prisoner Management Office, giving his arm a quick glance before continuing, "The cost will be paid by your emperor, as part of the war reparations. No need to thank us."

Watching the man leave, Caper tried moving his body, feeling nearly recovered, and then slowly got out of bed.

The registration spot wasn’t far from the tent; he went over with the iron tag and quickly completed the prisoner’s registration.

Just in time for dinner.

After registration, he followed the instructions of a logistician, found his camp, collected his bedding, and carried his meal box to a long queue forming in front of a large pot.

Two guys, who looked to be of the same status as him, busied themselves beside the large pot, constantly stirring the contents with a big wooden spoon.

The entire camp was filled with a thick, sweet aroma that made him swallow involuntarily and mumble subconsciously,

"What’s being cooked?"

He had not expected a response, but the man standing in front of him turned his head.

"I heard it’s corn."

There was a glint of anticipation in the man’s eyes.

Caper froze for a moment.

"...Corn?"

He had heard of that crop; it was common in the central and southern parts of Luo Xia Province and was also introduced in small quantities to Poluo Province, but not as widely grown as beans.

"That’s right, I heard it came from Silver Moon Bay, including the doctor who treated you..." Scanning the bandaged newcomer, the man continued, "My name is Ahta. I used to be with Chief Manu... never mind, we’re in the same camp now anyway."

Caper swallowed and introduced himself.

"...Caper. Prince Dilip led us in the attack on the Governor’s Mansion."

Ahta whistled softly, glancing at the militia not far away on duty, and then said with a smirk,

"Really? That was a disaster... I heard only a little over a thousand of your men survived. You must be blessed by the Wolf God to be alive."

Caper gave a bitter smile and was silent for a long time before asking,

"What exactly happened here?"

"As you can see, we lost, and then became prisoners of the Alliance... although it’s mainly those militia who manage us."

Ahta seemed reluctant to discuss the details of that battle and vaguely continued the subject,

"...For the first three days, those monkeys locked us in cages and even urinated on us, throwing food on the ground for us to lick up. The Alliance people couldn’t stand it anymore and finally brought us here. Anyway, you woke up at the right time. The POW camp is now built; we only have to work eight hours a day, receive three meals, and get 2 gallons as wages."

Caper: "Gallons?"

"That’s the new money."

Ahta fished out a coin from his pocket, showed it briefly, and then tucked it back in.

"Since the Empire cut off the supply of resources here, this stuff works much better than the old money did. Although 2 gallons can’t buy much, having some is better than none. By the way, I heard that if you can read, they’ll arrange some less tiring jobs for you, and the income will be a bit higher, around five or six coins a day."

Though Caper was confused about the so-called new money and had no interest in earning any, he still asked subconsciously,

"...How is that arranged?"

"How? Of course, they’ll arrange it for you. You think you can still pick and choose? Anyone who doesn’t want to work ends up shoveling manure. Don’t mess up and talk back to them," Ahta looked at the bemused guy as if his brain had been blown to bits, and continued, "However, you’re different from the others; the others who woke up like you all went crazy."

"I might be a bit off too," Caper said with a wry smile and after a long pause added, "I feel... as if I’ve died once."

Ahta looked at him in stunned silence and said nothing more, for it was his turn to get his food.

A bowl of fragrant corn porridge, a spoonful of sour string beans, and two slices of steamed yellow bread constituted their dinner after a day’s work.

Ahta thanked the fellow prisoner who filled up his meal box with a smile, then happily carried his portion to one side and started to eat voraciously.

He wasn’t the only one.

Everyone here was eating deliciously.

Not only because they had worked hard all day at the construction site and wasteland but also because they had never tasted such delicious food before.

Especially that soft and fluffy bread.

That thing simply didn’t seem like something that would appear on the table of ordinary civilians, and yet these Iron Men were generously feeding it to them, the prisoners of war!

What a group of kind-hearted individuals!

Akhtar almost wished he could kneel and kowtow to those Iron Men who had released him from the cage and fed him.

To put it bluntly, the food here was even better than what they had when they were squatting in the trenches before!

Caper also went up to get a bowl.

Perhaps lacking the experiences of the previous days, he wasn’t as excited as his former comrades were. He simply quietly took his food container and went to a corner of the camp to find a secluded place and quietly began to eat.

In the West Winds Empire, he belonged to a citizen class that was quite well-off, and he was never deprived of nutrition as a child.

Logically, his reaction to the taste of food shouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary.

But when he tasted the first bite from his bowl, he couldn’t help but be surprised as his pupils dilated.

A rich, sweet flavor spread from the tip of his tongue – a taste he had never experienced before, like milk mixed with honey.

Although it wasn’t particularly delicious, the unique taste and texture made him swallow another bite unconsciously.

Without realizing it, he had finished a large bowl, and the two pieces of bread that were probably fermented from cornmeal were completely swallowed down with the tangy and appetizing pickled green beans.

Having satisfied his hunger, Caper sat on the ground.

Longing for more, he looked down at the empty bowl he had licked clean and then raised his head towards the gradually brightening night sky.

Truly fragrant...

He really wanted another bowl.

Leaning his steel prosthetic on his bandaged stomach, he laid his head against the tent of the barracks and closed his eyes wearily.

The peaceful evening breeze caressed his face as if bringing songs from his hometown; the deafening roar seemed like a distant dream, buried far away along with boiling blood and soul.

For the first time since waking up, he felt how wonderful it was to be alive...

...

Not only were the Gray Wolves sitting in the POW Camp relishing their food, but so too was Prince Dilipu, squatted in the cell at the Harbour Area Police Station.

Although he fought the dimmest battle with the heritage of the West Winds Emperor, it didn’t stop him from having a huge appetite in jail, finishing one bowl and wanting another.

Frankly, he was quite a particular person.

Especially when it came to eating, he could even confidently say that even the people of Vellante would have to bow down to him.

Take roasted lamb, for example. He always ate only the lamb that had just been weaned, and only a small piece from the back at that, giving the rest away to his servants.

However, after being locked up and forced to eat a few meals without big fish or meat, he found that he had opened the door to a new world.

He had not expected that the Alliance, with its remarkable technology, also had such deep skills in culinary exploration, managing to make such a unique and delicious dish with simple ingredients and cooking methods!

Passing his plate through the small window of the prison, Prince Dilipu looked eagerly at Director Gulamangi and sheepishly asked,

"Could I have another bowl?"

"Are you a pig? Eating more than those who work!" As he looked at the prince who had clearly gained weight, Gulamangi couldn’t help but curse.

It was these idiotic rulers who had swollen their own faces time and again.

Gulamangi felt both anger and joy in his heart. The anger was at realizing he had been ridden by pigs, and the joy was that he was now riding atop the head of a pig.

Even if temporarily.

He waved his index finger haughtily, signaling his subordinate in a police uniform to serve another bowl to the fawning prince.

Looking at the cornmeal porridge poured into the bowl, Prince Dilipu seemed to feel embarrassed, his face turning as red as a monkey’s butt, and he tried to save face by saying,

"Some more of that sour stuff... cough, you can add the cost of the meal to my ransom. I won’t eat for free... I’ll pay."

"We’ll talk after your emperor has signed the armistice agreement," said Gulamangi, rolling his eyes and treating his words as a fart. He left the matter to his subordinate and then glanced at his watch.

It was time to get off work.

After filling the bellies of these "criminals," his own stomach was still empty.

That cornmeal porridge did smell truly fragrant...

Gulamangi swallowed, but still resisted.

It wasn’t that he was too proud to eat a prisoner’s food; it was that there were more delicious treats waiting for him at the banquet.

To thank those traders who supported the reconstruction of Jin Galun Harbor, as well as for some commercial inducement, the authorities of Jin Galun Harbor planned a lavish dinner at the most luxurious hotel in the harbor area to host these guests who had eased the urgent needs of the settlement.

Not just the distant guests but also notable figures from the settlement and some important representatives among the Iron Men would attend.

Although one could look forward to the feast at the banquet, what was eaten was never the point; getting closer to the Iron Men was key.

His rapid rise depended entirely on them!

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