This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 717 Water!

Chapter 717: Chapter 717 Water!

[Starting from today, the underwater freshwater pipeline is officially in operation, and the water tank located on the island has been refilled. According to the water supply agreement signed between the Governor’s Office of "Circular Island Port" and Fries Port City Hall, the import price of freshwater is only 0.8 Silver Coin per ton! The price of life and industrial water on "Circular Island Port" will return to the level before the ocean current power station was destroyed and there will no longer be a monthly water consumption cap.]

[Reported by the Baiyue Strait branch of Survivor’s Daily for you!]

Recently, Survivor’s Daily also established a branch in Fries Port, although the newspaper office is small, with just a wooden hut of twenty to thirty square meters.

The chief is a Moon Clan girl named Misa, who was a teacher before the Xilan Dynasty launched a purge against the Moon people.

After learning about Survivor’s Daily, she decided to set up a branch in Fries Port to report local interesting news and promote cultural exchange among different ethnic groups while incidentally helping her fellow Moon people to improve their literacy rate.

Some things do not necessarily have to wait until the literacy rate has increased before they can be done; on the contrary, it’s often the act of doing these things that gives people more motivation to proactively learn.

As for the access policy of Survivor’s Daily, it is quite lenient; as long as one pledges to speak on behalf of all survivors, they can get recognition from other branches and the Dawn City Head Office without needing a rubber stamp personally bestowed by the Manager to be considered "orthodox."

Of course, if one day a branch no longer stands with the survivors, the Dawn City Head Office and other branches will issue a statement to expel it from the ranks and will no longer reprint or quote any news from that newspaper—this serves as an exit mechanism.

From a profit or publicity standpoint, this management and exit mechanism clearly has its flaws, but as the Manager puts it, the Alliance isn’t just about this one newspaper.

If one day all issues of Survivor’s Daily were to stop or only the one in the City of Dawn remained, it would indicate that its historical mission had ended and it was time for it to retire to a museum. By then, people would naturally find something new to replace it and carry on.

Since there are no paper mills or printing plants in Fries Port, the Baiyue Strait branch of Survivor’s Daily is temporarily outsourced to a printing plant on "Circular Island Port." Some fishermen, sailors, and dock workers who frequently travel between Fries Port and "Circular Island Port" occasionally bring newspapers back to the island from the shore.

Therefore, even though Survivor’s Daily is not sold on "Circular Island Port," its presence can still be seen on the docks.

"0.8 Silver Coin?! The hell, they sell it to us for 1 Silver Coin!" Looking at the newspaper in his hands that felt like it could wring out water, a repairman on the dock widened his eyes and couldn’t help but curse.

As they often come ashore, the residents on "Circular Island Port" are no strangers to Silver Coins and can easily convert them into the Money in their pockets.

"After all, the people who run the water tanks and the faucets also need to make a bit of money," said the middle-aged man squatting beside him, cracking a smile, "Do you expect them to work just on the strength of the Northwest wind?"

"I’m not saying they can’t make money, but this is just too easy money!" the repairman shook his head, folded the newspaper, and put it back where he picked it up from.

It was almost time to go to work.

Recently, there have been some new orders from Fries Port and Jinjaron Harbor, so the factories and ports on "Circular Island Port" have become lively again.

To increase loading and unloading efficiency, the port office even reinstalled the Gantry Cranes, which were almost rusting in the warehouse, and sent away some of the young men who were loading boxes on the docks so they could go back to work in the factories.

And these old technicians, who lost their jobs along with the large ocean current power station, finally had work to do again.

To be honest, if there were no more jobs for them on "Circular Island Port," they were planning to try their luck in Fries Port.

It was said that they are also undertaking automation upgrades in the port over there, and the pay is not bad, with the only risk being safety concerns.

The middle-aged man squatting beside him smiled, threw a towel over his shoulder, and stood up along with the repairman.

"Anyway, even at 1 Silver Coin, it’s still much cheaper than before! Plus, there’s no restriction on water usage... the days of bathing once a day are finally back."

This is the tropics.

Not taking a bath for one day is enough to kill you, especially when you’re working at the docks.

Not long after the two middle-aged men left, a group of idle youths also wandered over from their settlement and happened to squat in the same spot where they had squatted before.

Not everyone had found work in the factories, and although the docks no longer needed them, they would still habitually come here to loiter.

After all, many of their friends were still working here, and occasionally some interesting ships would pass through.

Anyway, those living off relief money weren’t in much of a hurry to make ends meet. Daydreaming was the same everywhere, so why not find an interesting place?

"Hey! There’s something here!"

A sharp-eyed lad quickly found a stack of newspapers shoved under a ladder, pulled it out, unfolded it, and shouted showily to his companions nearby.

"Look what I found! Newspapers brought back by the sailors!"

Hearing the excited shout, the youths who had just squatted in the shade immediately stood up and gathered around with interest.

"The latest issue of Survivor’s Daily, a newspaper from Potato Harbor! Let me see what’s written... Wow, the underwater freshwater pipeline has officially started delivering water!"

"Really?!"

"No wonder my mom said the water bill came down yesterday... so that’s what it was!"

"Hmph, I knew it yesterday."

"Some say the pipeline will go through a minefield... wouldn’t that affect the ongoing war?"

"War? If you hadn’t mentioned it, I would’ve almost forgotten about it."

"This war has gone on so long, and I haven’t even seen a person from Shelter No. 70."

The group of lads crowded in front of the newspaper, discussing the news, with their topics quickly shifting from the newly operational underwater pipeline to the bar advertisements on the third page of the paper.

There were the most dense and colorful illustrations in the entire paper, and while not particularly exciting, they had a fatal attraction for these youths in their restless age, much like the old guys’ cigarettes and liquor.

However, not all were interested in those nutrition-less ad illustrations, like Suni sitting here, who was thinking about other things.

A few months ago, he was producing sardine cans at a cannery on Circular Island; after a series of events, the canning line and the port’s automated loading equipment were forced to shut down, and he went to the docks for odd jobs under the call of the Governor’s Office.

Now, with the trade on Circular Island recovering, the port’s automated equipment and the factory’s production lines were no longer losing ventures, and the Governor’s Office was hoping they would return to work in the factories.

He always felt like a handy, convenient machine, being led around by the nose.

Not that it was any kind of fuss.

Seventeen or eighteen was the age for wild and fanciful thoughts. If not wasting their minds on pretty girls, they could only ponder questions like "where do we come from, where do we go."

When he read the news about the completion of the underwater freshwater pipeline in the newspaper, his heart was suddenly filled with emotion. Especially when he found out that the survivors from Coral City had participated in the design, his feelings intensified.

How wonderful.

While the people of Ring Island were still busy with a war that befuddled them and being lead by the nose by incomprehensible events, those most unfortunate fellows had already walked out of the disaster from several months ago and begun a new life.

He too wanted to live a life with a little more meaning...

Finally making up his mind, he suddenly, without any warning, lifted his head and said to his buddies crowded around the newspaper,

"I want to go to Jinjaron Harbor."

The young men who had been loudly discussing the news quieted down instantly, and only the sounds of seagulls cooing remained on the dock.

A little chubby guy with a sun-reddened face stared at him for a long while, making sure that expression wasn’t joking, then suddenly widened his round eyes.

"Have you lost your mind?!"

Jinjaron Harbor?!

That place wasn’t just a few words different from their neighboring Potato Harbor; it was another continent, over two thousand kilometers away!

A place that seemed even more like Wasteland than River Valley Province itself!

There, there was neither unemployment benefits nor insurance, not even the most basic security of life could be guaranteed, and they still practiced the oldest, most primitive form of slavery in the history of human civilization.

In that godforsaken place, killing a person was as commonplace as killing a fish.

That cry of surprise broke the silence, and seeing his friends staring at him as if he were insane, Sune hurriedly started to explain,

"Wait, don’t rush to laugh at me... Do you guys remember that ship from before?"

A freckle-faced, well-built young man froze for a moment.

"You mean those thighs—wait a second, weren’t they just at Potato Harbor?"

A few months ago, when that cargo ship from Jinjaron Harbor docked at the port, the graceful figures on the deck had infiltrated the dreams of many adolescent boys.

They were sitting and drinking beer on the docks at that time, even in the very same place they were now.

The moment they heard "that ship," everyone instantly understood which one he was talking about.

"But there are more big—cough, I mean, huge changes happening all over Wasteland, and everyone out there is acting for a better life while I’m here wasting time!" Sune coughed violently, gazing seriously at his companions, "Don’t you think this is wasteful?"

The others exchanged puzzled glances, then turned to look at him, even more convinced that there was definitely something wrong with his head.

"What’s wrong with that?"

"It’s actually quite entertaining to sit here and laugh at them."

"I agree," the sun-reddened chubby guy also nodded his head, "The matters of Wasteland are fine to just watch, but actually going there... I’m afraid I’d end up cooked into soup."

"I can’t explain it to you guys," Sune sighed helplessly and gave up, looking toward the direction of the harbor, "I’ve learned so much, not to be lugging crates at the port or laying cans on assembly lines. Those kinds of jobs could clearly be done by machines... To be frank, I’m not needed here, but I feel like I might be needed there."

His companions looked at each other, seeming to understand this time.

Dear me.

After all this fuss, the kid wanted to go to the Wasteland to play god among the natives.

And by the way, to charm a few pretty girls.

"So... what work do you want to do there?"

Wanting to persuade this fanciful friend of theirs, the freckle-faced guy stared intently into his eyes, not expecting that he had already decided what to do even after he got there.

"Teacher." Without avoiding that inquiring gaze, Sune answered without hesitation.

The others were taken aback once more.

"Teacher?!"

"What can you teach them?"

"You can’t even find work for yourself!"

"Language, math, even physics and chemistry, everything taught in school," Sune was counting on his fingers and speaking to his friends, "Knowledge that isn’t used in the factory might be useful there; I’ve heard that many there still haven’t learned to cook with fire. Besides, it was written in the newspaper before, that place needs teachers, and as long as you’re literate, you’ll do. The Alliance... those friends north of the strait, they’re planning to start literacy schools in Jinjaron Harbor, and the salary is paid in silver coins! Could be a couple thousand a month!"

The group exchanged looks, surprised that he had planned so far ahead, even knowing the salary for working there.

Realizing his friend was serious, the freckle-faced guy didn’t say more but just reached out and patted his shoulder.

"I won’t try to dissuade you from this idea anymore, but remember, that place is Wasteland. Make sure you think it through before boarding a ship."

Seeing that someone finally understood him, Sune breathed a sigh of relief and smiled, feeling more relaxed.

"I’ll discuss it with my family."

As they were speaking, the sound of a ship’s horn came from the direction of the harbor, as a huge cargo ship slowly approached the dock.

The group of young men sitting on the steps instinctively looked up toward that direction, their faces showing surprise.

"Meat Meat?"

"Those people are back?"

Staring in the direction of the docks as well, Sune’s eyes suddenly brightened, and his dark pupils were filled with the light of Xiaguang.

What a coincidence.

Just as he had resolved to set foot on Wasteland, the wind of dreams blew into the lonely port once again.

Perhaps it was fate...

...

"Welcome! Friends from Potato Harbor, friends from the Alliance!"

At the Circular Island Port dock,

Governor Mr. Chaning, accompanied by a line of soldiers wearing exoskeletons, walked up to Midnight Chicken Killing with a smile on his face.

However, upon seeing the appearance of the commander of the Jungle Corps, his smile seemed somewhat forced.

The guy was fitted with cybernetic implants all over; not only were there a massive chainsaw and a gun barrel welded to his arms, but his entire body had been replaced with steel.

While others wore their exoskeletons, this guy looked as though he had moved his head into one.

Packing so many implants, would his brain really not break down?

Unaware of what was on the NPC’s mind, Midnight Chicken Killing smiled naively and extended his right hand to Mr. Chaning.

"I’m delighted to deepen our cooperation! Our Manager asked me to send his regards to you!"

After shaking the extended hand, Mr. Chaning quickly let it go, continuing with a radiant smile on his face,

"We feel the same, delighted to be working with you! And, please allow me to take back what I said before... I didn’t expect you could actually gain a foothold on that incredible land; we had made many attempts over the past century and all failed."

That was his heartfelt thought.

If two months ago he had more concerns and worries about the Alliance’s arrival, now he could only describe it as "Truly Fragrant."

The water supply agreement brought much more than just millions of tons of freshwater to Circular Island; the currency exchange clause included in the agreement even got about half of the factories shut down by the war back into operation!

Especially recently, as both Potato Harbor and Jin Galun Harbor were heavily involved in infrastructure projects, a massive market was opening up to all allies of the Alliance.

The profits from exporting industrial products and equipment not only resolved financial pressures caused by unemployment benefits and war taxes for the Circular Island authorities, but the cheaper coal priced in silver coins even turned the subsidized coal-fired power plants profitable!

It would be even better if those "Blue Jackets" on the continent could solve the electricity problem as well.

Of course, he had already finalized this with the CEO of Baiyue Corporation.

Soon, a high-voltage submarine power cable would crawl up to the island along with that water pipe; then they could shut down the coal power plants and use silver coins for many more things.

As for the Tiangong and that lair on the seabed, while it would be best to solve these, life would still go on even if they couldn’t.

After all, the River Valley Province had already successfully addressed the lair issue.

They didn’t necessarily have to rely on the Torch Church’s methods...

...

After shaking hands with Governor Mr. Chaning, Midnight Chicken Killing walked with him to the square at the junction of the harbor and the docks.

There sat a fountain carved out of marble, with a hammer symbolizing order standing right in the center.

The statue at the fountain was completed in the City of Dawn and transported to Potato Harbor by freight airship, then transferred here by cargo ship.

As a blessing for the operation of the submarine freshwater pipeline and a symbol of friendship, the Alliance donated this "Never-ending Fountain" to the local survivors.

Connected to the fountain was exactly the undersea freshwater pipeline; as long as Potato Harbor kept sending fresh water to the island, the pool in the fountain would never run dry.

Just as the two men stepped onto the port, two hundred players from the Jungle Corps, gathered on the deck, also stepped onto the port of Circular Island following their lead.

The gleaming armor of the "K10" Iron Wall exoskeletons radiated a thrilling light under the sun, like a walking scorching sun.

The port was crowded with onlookers, and window after window was pushed open in the densely packed grid of buildings along the coast.

Whether young men and women, the elderly, or children, they all cast curious glances at the neatly-organized, well-equipped troops.

Even some of the operators in the cranes paused their work to look over in that direction.

They were seeing a land army for the first time, as well as encountering such heavily armored and numerous combat exoskeletons.

Although the Alliance’s Navy was also equipped with exoskeletons, most were used for underwater operations, with only a few sailors equipped with combat exoskeletons featuring ballistic panels.

And even those combat exoskeletons designed for close-range firefights seemed tiny like toothpicks when compared to these behemoths that were akin to walking chariots.

The scratches etched on the paintwork were like medals; these braves were truly warriors who had come down from countless battlefields!

Uncontrollable admiration and reverence filled the gazes of many, as these people were approaching from the directions they themselves had once fled.

However, despite having enough capital to boast, these "Iron Men" did not flaunt their presence.

They didn’t even bring weapons, nor did they make deafening footsteps, simply walking forward, neatly and uniformly, with the Alliance’s insignia and jungle-colored paint.

Rather than a grim killing air, the survivors standing at the port perceived more a sense of safety and reliability from them.

No one doubted that they had come with peaceful intentions.

The players of the Jungle Corps stopped at the entrance of the dock, lining up in front of the fountain without pressing forward.

Not only the residents of Circular Island but also Mr. Chaning were scrutinizing this steel-clad army of warriors, feeling secretly impressed.

No wonder that Empire was no match for them.

These people probably didn’t even fight with their full strength.

But—

Mr. Chaning’s gaze fell on the "shabby" cargo ship behind these soldiers, and he couldn’t help but sigh in his heart.

What a pity.

While their power on land was formidable, their naval strength was still considered a shortcoming. Clearly not enough to contend with the navy of the Southern Islands Federation.

The comparison wasn’t because he harbored any ulterior motives or wanted to lead the locals here to break away; rather, he just wished that this "big tree" could grow taller and stronger.

That way, the strategic value of Circular Island within the Federation could rise as well.

His fear was that these people represented a potential threat to the Federation—alas, not much of a threat.

However, Mr. Chaning, despite feeling a slight disappointment, did not let that insignificant trifle show on his face.

He was a man easily contented.

All things considered, he was quite satisfied with this ally.

As the Jungle Corps landed, the band on the shore struck up a welcome tune, and the ceremony reached its crucial phase.

Gazing at the Alliance Corps Commander standing beside him, Mr. Chaning smiled and performed a standard Federation salute, earnestly saying,

"May our friendship be long-lasting!"

Midnight Chicken Killing also placed his right fist over his chest and boomed in response,

"May our friendship be long-lasting!"

As they bore witness to this historic moment, the crowd at the port burst into fervent applause, whistles, and excited cheers.

The staff members in the square tossed the previously prepared ribbons and fireworks into the air, with music from the band elevating the atmosphere to a climax.

The port was engulfed in a celebratory mood, as lively as a festival.

At the same time, the Warhammer standing atop the fountain sprayed water, and a faint rainbow appeared alongside the drizzle, falling with the water droplets.

Everyone’s eyes were drawn to the rainbow overhead, their faces alight with excitement and anticipation.

The days of water shortage were finally coming to an end!

And tomorrow would be even better!

Mr. Chaning and the port officials also applauded with smiles on their faces, any worries and concerns falling away with the fountain’s sprays.

But at that moment, an ear-piercing emergency alert suddenly sounded over the port.

The celebratory atmosphere and music halted abruptly, like a balloon pricked by a needle. Musicians and drummers stopped mid-performance, looking bewildered toward the direction of the alarm.

The survivors gathered at the port were likewise stunned, panic and confusion evident on their faces as they looked around, not understanding what had happened.

Normally, an alert would only be triggered if vessels from Shelter No. 70 attacked nearby fishing boats, cargo ships, or underwater installations.

But here on Circular Island at the edge of the Southern sea area, aside from special scenarios like drills, it had been a long time since the alarm last sounded.

So much so that, without deliberate thought, most had forgotten they were still at war.

Governor Chaning was equally bewildered, staring blankly in the direction of the alarm, unable to grasp what was happening.

While everyone was in a state of shock, only the players standing beside the fountain looked eager to jump into action.

Good grief.

Was this work coming their way?! The story’s CGI scene had passed some time ago, and uninformed newbies and backseat drivers might still think of them as NPCs.

All players were itching to head back to the deck, weapons in hand.

They simply couldn’t wait to show these world-unseen folks a thing or two!

In the midst of this, a worker from the port office rushed over and whispered urgently into Mr. Chaning’s ear.

Mr. Chaning blinked in surprise and then his expression changed dramatically. He turned to the Alliance Corps Commander with a serious tone,

"Our patrol team near the minefield detected an explosion signal... That area seems to be where the water pipes run through."

After a pause, he continued,

"We suspect that vessels from Shelter No. 70 may have attacked that location."

While speaking, he couldn’t help but glance at the fountain, yet the spray of water showed no signs of abating.

The water still surged outward unabated, as if unaffected.

Looking at Governor Chaning’s tense demeanor, Midnight Chicken Killing laughed heartily and said,

"No need to worry, it’s a small issue."

Mr. Chaning hesitated, wondering if he had heard wrong, and repeated incredulously,

"A small issue?"

Midnight Chicken Killing nodded, smiled gently, and explained,

"We anticipated this situation two months ago. By the time you fret over it, the problem might already be solved."

Pausing, he looked toward the slack-jawed staff member, covertly gestured towards the band, and continued in a low voice,

"Could you kindly turn off the alarm and have them resume the music..."

"We’re recording a video."

Mr. Chaning: "...?"

Staff member: "???"

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