This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 726 War Machine Starts!

Chapter 726: Chapter 726 War Machine Starts!

In the central region of Brocade River Province, next to a lush mangrove forest, there nestled a settlement known as Mafu Town, approximately one hundred and fifty kilometers away from Singular Point City.

Although it was just an unremarkable small town, the population living here was actually not that insubstantial.

At least compared to the uninhabited areas around it, it could already be considered a "smoke-curling" settlement.

A century ago, local survivors made their living by breeding horses, and the not-too-large settlement supported only two or three hundred people.

But around a hundred years into the Wasteland Era, Brocade River Province saw an increase in farms and manors, and the slave-owner-led manor economy flourished. Local survivors switched to herding cattle and sheep, providing food and shelter to the merchants traveling from the south to the north, and the town gradually grew to house two or three thousand households, seven or eight thousand people.

As for now, the Alliance’s railway had been built through the area, giving the locals another job: guarding the railway and selling roasted sausages and sunflower seeds near the train station and so on.

Each day, they only needed to ride their horses along the railway line for a round, ensuring the safety of the nearly one hundred and fifty-kilometer stretch of railway, ensuring that the Alliance’s trains did not have accidents there, and the Alliance’s insurance company would pay them a sum of money.

As to why it was the insurance company and not the company operating the railway that gave them the money, they didn’t quite understand. In the end, as long as those people were willing to pay, it was all good.

Moreover, since the railway had been built, those smoke-billowing trains would occasionally bring along some interesting novelties en route.

Items like tables and chairs, periodicals and books, clothes and pants, furniture and appliances, as well as some puffed and canned foods that no one had seen before could be taken home as long as they pulled out the coins.

To earn more silver coins, those idle young fellows in the town one after another boarded the train, intending to make a (da) splash (gong) on the Alliance’s territories.

In the past, people might have hesitated to leave because it was too far from home, making it difficult to return, even if they thought there might be opportunities to make money there. But now, a trip to City of Dawn took less than a day, so many people boarded the train with a try-it-and-see attitude.

Although most people in the town did not feel that they were part of the Alliance, they just thought that the Alliance and those merchants coming and going didn’t seem much different, merely doing business a little bigger. Nonetheless, their lifestyle and habits were still more or less influenced by Dawn City, just as the slave owner’s manor economy had once influenced their production and life.

Regardless of whether those young men who went to work in Dawn City brought back pan-fried buns and noodles, or the Great Antler God and Big Horn Rat, or even "Awakener Bol" and the "Man and Automation" from Singular Point City, they were all things that this small town had not encountered before.

Especially in recent times, it was not only young men who had boarded the train but even the old town chief of this small town had visited Dawn City to participate in that Sticky Community meeting.

According to the letters the old man sent back, he had seen quite a few bigwigs there. Not only was there the big-nosed guy from Triumph City, but there were also people from Ideal City and the Academy.

These bigwigs sat together and discussed making the resolution of the "Mutated slime fungus" a top priority.

But before that, they had to deal with a group called Torch. Those madmen were planning to use the technology from the Era of Prosperity to spread something called Nago in the sea.

The townspeople couldn’t understand what it meant; many of them had never seen a mutant slime fungus or the sea in their lives, only occasionally spotting a couple of proselytizing madmen.

But the old town chief, who had now seen the world, told them that this thing is a surefire opportunity!

And a big one at that!

Although there were no Mucor Nests around Mafu Town, there was no shortage of them in Brocade River Province.

Solving the mucor issue wasn’t really important to them, much like the railway the Alliance had built.

But if they could help those bigwigs solve their problems, their lives could visibly improve!

To put it in the words of that manager from the Alliance, making money was in no way embarrassing.

They knew that if they could live their lives well and allow people to live the life they should, free from poverty and ignorance, they were already making a significant contribution to ending the Wasteland Era.

He wouldn’t demand that they hold their torch as high as the Alliance does.

As usual, the old town mayor of Dawn City had probably heard some rousing speech, and as the sun was about to set, he sent an urgent telegram to the town hall.

The town hall secretary yawned as he posted the telegram on the public notice board in the square, nailing it up before clocking off to play cards at the tavern.

A crowd of townsfolk gathered around the square, curious, and after some shoving, a literate cobbler was summoned to read the telegram sent by the mayor.

"The Mucor Research Community meeting has passed Resolution No. 1 unanimously. All members declare war on the Torch Church and its servants..." he murmured his summarized content, the man’s expression changed slightly, he whispered incredulously, "Are we going to war?"

Upon hearing this, a buzz of whispers spread among the crowd.

Especially the young men from families that ran farms and forestries showed eager expressions on their faces.

But worry also appeared on the faces of some, as they quickly remembered they were part of that community too, their mayor was at that meeting, and perhaps had even cast a vote.

Residents of Mafu Town have a fierce reputation, not afraid of a few missionary zealots, but the thought of fighting a war against a bunch of strangers made most hesitant, even though they knew the Torch was no good thing.

A local farmer looked at the cobbler reading the notice, furrowed his brows, and asked.

"Do we need to go to the battlefield?"

In the past, when Mafu Town clashed with outsiders, those with horses would bring horses, those with guns would bring guns, and those with nothing would give their lives— who knew what the rules were now.

Ever since the Alliance had built a railway here, raider camps and mutant nests in the vicinity had vanished as if into thin air. Although there were still occasional small groups of looters or variants roaming around, large-scale fighting had long been absent.

"...No, that won’t be necessary, our required work is logistical support, providing accommodation, food, and fresh water as well as daily necessities for those who come to fight," replied the cobbler after reading to the end of the notice, then hesitated and added.

"Also, the mayor asked us to make use of any spare warehouses, cowsheds, stables, or even attics, turning them into hotels, taverns, guesthouses, and the like... In the next few days, I expect many will be coming over from Dawn City."

He wasn’t sure what a guesthouse was but supposed it must be similar to a hotel or tavern.

Seeing this, the townsfolk exchanged glances, their faces a tapestry of indecision.

It was then a stout housewife stepped forward and asked skeptically.

"Do they pay?"

The cobbler was taken aback for a moment before responding.

"Why wouldn’t they?"

In his experience, they had never had someone follow the train over without paying; on the contrary, it seemed like those guys couldn’t wait to stuff silver coins into their pockets, even though they’d find ways to make the money back soon after.

Hearing this, everyone felt there might be some sense in that, and except for a few who had been eager to try their luck now disheartened at losing the opportunity to shine, most who had been hesitant now had a glint in their eye.

At last, the crowd around the bulletin board realized the big deal the old town mayor had brought back to them, and they scattered like a swarm of bees, all hurrying back home to prepare their vacant houses.

There was no shortage of land in the Wasteland, especially around Mafu Town where land was vast and the population sparse, with vast uninhabited areas beyond the town.

Many of the residents lived in two-story wooden houses with ladders usually outside, and it wasn’t a bad idea to turn the spare first floor or second floor into inns.

As it happened, many young people had recently left for City of Dawn, freeing up plenty of vacant houses and rooms.

Apart from those rushing to their homes, there was someone in the square who shouted out.

"Right, I just remembered... I’ve got this huge chunk of iron in my old warehouse, it’s got tracks underneath, looks like something from the Era of Prosperity, my grandfather dragged it back from a city area over a hundred kilometers away."

The man had a straw hat on his back and a towel over his shoulder, looking like a farmer.

Somebody curiously looked at him and asked,

"What’s that?"

The farmer shook his head.

"Don’t know... but it looks like something from a battlefield. We tried to turn it into a tractor before, but we couldn’t dismantle it, so we just threw it in the warehouse."

Soon someone patted his shoulder and laughed,

"When the next train comes, drag it to City of Dawn to ask around. There are a lot of archaeologists over there who should offer you a good price."

Then another person chimed in,

"Once you sell it, you’re treating us to drinks, ha!"

The farmer scratched his head and said with a smile,

"Haha, for sure!"

If only he could actually get some money for it...

As the residents of Mafu Town busied themselves for the coming war, other settlements linked by railway and the Tributary of Tianshui did the same, springing into action one by one with the dispatch of telegrams and urgent letters.

A united front was slowly forming.

These settlements were like gears in a huge machine, insignificant when scattered on the ground, and perhaps unnoticed by the giants of the Wasteland, but once strung together by a chain, the energy they unleashed was formidable.

Even the person who strung them together might not fully understand what was on the chain.

After all, who isn’t a descendant from the Era of Prosperity?

The Waste Land Wanderers weren’t truly primitive people; their forebears had lived in a great era, which then receded into the distance along with their forefathers.

Who knows, there could be some deadly legacy weapons from the Era of Prosperity hidden in one of those settlements, just never found the right place to use them, so they never came to light.

As those rusty gears began to turn for a common purpose, City of Dawn at the center of this great machine was also bustling with activity.

A military train from Dawn City blew its whistle and came to a steady stop beside the platform of the Dawn City train station.

Its carriages were filled with ammunition, supplies, and trainloads of heavy artillery, all destined for the front line.

Some were purchased by the Alliance while others were sponsored or sent from the individual members of the Sticky Community.

For instance, two 902mm heavy mortars were among the war machines generously provided by Triumph City.

The short, stocky barrels resembled upturned pig snouts, the massive bore big enough to fit two people inside.

The Weilante People called them "Wild boar."

Though they may look antiquated, their killing power is no joke, even surpassing some tactical nuclear weapons, particularly when taking on hardened targets like concrete bunkers.

Their only drawback is that they’re incredibly heavy, the mortar itself weighing a staggering 150 tons, far exceeding the Alliance’s No. 2 tanks, and the shell weight a horrifying 5 tons! It’s essentially a postmodern enhanced version of the "Karl-giant cannon!"

By comparison, the main gun of the Steel Heart seemed almost charmingly small.

It was said that these two guns were produced by a factory under the Southern Army and shipped across the sea from Triumph City to Silver Moon Bay and then by railway to City of Dawn.

Although no one knows what kind of obsessive thoughts the people of Weilante in the southern West Continent harbored when they designed such a distorted weapon, the Alliance naturally did not refuse the free gift, accepting it with open arms.

But for now, the Alliance lacked a vehicle to tow these massive mortars and deemed it impractical to build a specific chariot just for these imports, so they simply welded them onto train carriages.

In contrast, the No. 60 electromagnetic cannons donated by enterprises seemed much more genuine and versatile.

Although the Alliance could manufacture these themselves, their production capacity couldn’t compare with Ideal City.

The Academy, for its part, delivered a batch of automated combat drones and swarm missiles to City of Dawn, able to be operated in conjunction with neural connection devices.

Intelligence System players had new toys to play with.

Waiting at the train station, alongside the weapons bound for the front line, were the players about to rush there themselves.

At that moment, five hundred players from the Death Legion clad in exoskeletons sat atop the similarly armored backs of the Claw of death, bidding a reluctant farewell to their fellow Residents of the refuge—

At least to those Waste Land Wanderers who couldn’t understand Mandarin, it seemed that way.

"Hahaha! Dumbfounded, aren’t you? I’m one of the first!"

"Edge bro is the man!!!"

"Guys! Vote 6 for our leader! Finally, he’s proving useful!"

"6666!"

The players standing at the platform couldn’t help but look enviously at this lucky bunch, cursing that it wasn’t them boarding the train.

Watching those guys looking so smug, the Canyon Running Mole just couldn’t bear it and whined a little.

"Dammit, my Chimera is way cooler than those Cannon Fodder!"

When they fought in Brocade River City, it was their Skeleton Corps that led the charge. They thought there would be no suspense this time, but unexpectedly, the Death Legion snatched the lead from them.

Standing nearby, "Beta the Toy Car Driver" chimed in.

"Exactly! Why the hell aren’t we at the vanguard!"

Shuke, the helicopter pilot, says, "There must be some shady backdoor deals going on here."

Looking at the group of whining losers, Edge Shoveling, who was riding on a Claw of Death, nearly died laughing and shouted at the Mole.

"Give it a rest, will ya? With five hundred armored Claws of Death under my command that can scale mountains and cross rivers, who else if not us? Can your Chimera even cross a small ditch?"

"Midnight Carrying an Umbrella and Not a Sword," retorted, "Exactly! Does your Gun Tower turn as fast as I charge?"

Canyon Running Mole: "Come on, give it a try! I’ll be waiting for you at Camp 101’s arena!"

"Just go play around that place yourself," Edge Shoveling laughed, pulling down his helmet’s visor as he clutched the restless Claw of Death beneath him, "I’m off to the front lines to collect heads."

Debt Giant Eye joked with a grin, "Brother Mole, better go back to playing your Game! Leave the fighting to us pros!"

He had over a hundred children that were pretty useless and ate like pigs, fattening up and almost driving him to bankruptcy.

Now that the fighting had started, finally, these children could be put to use.

Even if they couldn’t withstand the front lines, helping to transport supplies or embedding as eyes-on-the-ground would be excellent.

Canyon Running Mole: "Get lost!"

Watching the boisterous crowd, the Spring Water Commander with crossed arms shook his head and sighed helplessly.

"I thought about it all night and still can’t understand why it wasn’t our Storm Corps leading the charge."

Battlefield Atmosphere Group also looked thoughtful, "Indeed... it’s outrageous to put those with the highest casualty rate at the forefront."

Likewise, standing at the platform, Silver Daddy immediately felt displeased upon hearing this and looked at the guy with a deeply aggrieved expression.

"Have you considered the feelings of our Silver Corps?"

The Battlefield Atmosphere Group was taken aback, and it took them a while to remember that their casualty rate wasn’t low either, so they quickly laughed it off.

"Sorry... I forgot."

Silver Daddy: "@#%@!"

In this harmonious atmosphere, Brother Edge and his brethren boarded a train headed to Luo Xia Province.

They were to take the train to the central region of Luo Xia Province, to join with the construction troops that had headed there earlier in the year. Then, they would launch an offensive from the north of the territory controlled by the Torch Church, pushing the front line to the border between Luo Xia Province and Haiye Province.

By then, reinforcements from armies, companies, and even academies would join them there.

The Manager had only one demand for them, and it was to fight with the same vigor they showed in Luo Xia Province!

To not let their allies look down on them!

...

It wasn’t just the train station that was busy, but the Alliance’s airport as well.

A massive transport plane stood ready at the end of the runway, its huge body like the wings of a Peng, its four massive engines solidly welded to the wings.

This was the Alliance’s first "self-produced and self-researched" big plane!

Its number was H-10, codenamed "Overlord," a joint design by Factory No.81 and the Academy’s design institute.

Initially, the players from Factory No.81 wanted to use the codename "Peng" because the thing was really big, but to avoid confusing the kids who always mix up virtual and reality, they decided, after much deliberation, to use an unused military codename from the real world.

The plane’s power storage used entirely solid hydrogen, while the power system was a plasma engine similar to the one on the "Tiger Whale" transport plane.

Its maximum range was up to 2000 kilometers, slightly inferior to the 3000+km range of the Tiger Whale, but its max payload was a bit higher, reaching 150 tons!

After all, this beast was equipped with four engines, and it was indeed a case of strength creating miracles.

To be honest, saying that this thing was similar to the Tiger Whale was a bit modest.

If one were to ignore the differences in appearance between the body and engines, aside from not being able to rotate the wings freely for complex maneuvers and switch between fixed-wing mode and vertical takeoff and landing mode, it was practically a knockoff "Fat Tiger" or a "Thin Whale."

Of course, to make up for the lack of vertical takeoff and landing, Goblin Technology collaborated with the research institute under the Academy to design a "small plane" that could switch between fixed-wing mode and vertical takeoff and landing mode.

That gadget was called "Thunder," but it wasn’t deployed here at the moment.

As a powerful upgraded version of the "Soaring Clouds" fighter jet, it, like "Overlord," used an electric propulsion plasma engine, only its power unit wasn’t solid hydrogen but a fusion battery similar to power armor but with a higher energy density and cost.

The main advantage of a plasma engine wasn’t thrust or energy conservation but the stable output of the plasma exhaust stream. Its maneuverability and stability were much stronger than the chemical engines used in traditional jet aircraft.

That’s why players could have more room to fully display their creativity and bring to the Game some ideas that are impossible or too costly to realize in reality.

As for the actual performance, only the battlefield could tell.

At the moment, ground support vehicles were shuttling back and forth between the runway and the warehouse, stuffing boxes and bundles of supplies into the back of "Overlord."

As the cargo hold filled up, the door slowly closed, and the Pigman Brothers, casually chewing gum, skillfully pushed the throttle, guiding the plane onto the runway, trailing four blue arcs of light as it soared into the sky.

Although his flight path and the train heading south were in the same direction, his destination was not Brocade River Province, but Baiyue Province, located to the southwest of Haiye Province.

Near the military base northwest of Potato Harbor, there was a two-kilometer-long runway.

Although building and maintaining a runway in Baiyue Province was costly, Chu Guang ultimately decided to foot the bill out of strategic necessity, commissioning local players to construct it.

After all, the Iron Heart had only one vessel, and relying on inflatable airships to transport supplies was just too sluggish when it mattered.

The Alliance was planning to launch simultaneous offensives from both the south and north against the territories under the actual control of the Torch Church; therefore, the military deployment around Potato Harbor was also essential.

Next to the airport runway, two corporate pilots looked in the direction where the Overlord transport plane disappeared, exchanging odd glances.

The more straightforward one shared the confusion in his heart directly.

"... Is it my imagination, or does that thing somewhat resemble our engines?"

The one standing next to him opened his mouth and gave an ambiguous answer.

"Perhaps...it’s just an illusion."

Let’s assume it’s an illusion.

After all, there’s no such thing as patents in the Wasteland.

Their engines were copied from the plasma thrusters on the Era of Prosperity’s starships, and with so many residents of the refuge copying new parts, there didn’t seem to be anything unreasonable about it.

In any case, now wasn’t the time to argue about this. Plus, the Alliance was still their ally.

Even if there were disputes, they would have to wait until after this war was over to address them...

...

North of the City of Dawn, near the Corps Diplomatic Team’s residence, there was a bustling lobby in a certain hotel.

And the focus of everyone’s heated discussions was naturally the latest issue of the Survivor’s Daily.

Two major headlines appeared on today’s paper, an unprecedented occurrence.

One headline was about the Sticky Community declaring war on the Torch, and the other was about the newly established South Sea Union.

Although the Alliance seldom actively exported its values, there was no shortage of followers eager to embrace the Dawn on the Wasteland.

It was said that the South Sea Union’s territory was even larger than the Alliance’s!

However, their "land" was so small that the residents of Dawn City were more surprised about how they managed to cram people onto those tiny islands than about what was happening there.

Surprise notwithstanding,

The topic of the Southern sea area didn’t generate much discussion heat in Dawn City, at least not as much as the "Sticky Community declaring war on the Torch Church"—a truly significant event!

After all, nothing had been more topical than the Mucor Research Community meeting being held over the past four months.

And as for the atrocities committed by the Torch Church and its followers, the survivors in Dawn City had vivid memories.

Most of them were Bone Chewing Chaos survivors, including those who had fled from Brocade River Province; almost everyone loathed those madmen to the bone.

Now that they heard that all members of the Sticky Community had declared war on the Torch Church, nearly everyone couldn’t help but cheer.

"It’s about time someone dealt with those dogs!" A drunken mercenary slammed his right fist on the table, bellowing inebriatedly.

The merchant sitting next to him spoke in a grave voice.

"I remember the Chewing Bone Tribe had their shadow! These beasts, a bunch of inhuman..."

"Unexpectedly, the Weilante People are standing with us. Those guys have their fair share of beastly deeds."

"There are also those from Bugra. I always have the feeling they’re no good."

"To use the Manager’s words, those guys are no good, but we can put our disputes with them aside for now. We need to solve the more critical issues first."

The hotel lobby was filled with noisy voices, and no one noticed the person in the corner.

It was the ambassador from the West Winds Empire, Duke Garava, who had just been discharged from the hospital.

Although the doctor had advised him to drink less and read fewer newspapers, it was clear he hadn’t followed his medical guidance, as he defiantly clenched a copy of the Survivor’s Daily bought by his servant.

Staring at the newspaper’s headline, Duke Garava’s face showed a sickly flush of excitement as he muttered under his breath.

"It’s started!"

Finally, it had begun!

Once the Alliance’s war machine started up, they would surely have no time to pay attention to the affairs of Poluo Province, allowing their empire not only a chance to catch its breath but also potentially an opportunity to turn the tide and regain their former glory!

However—

The Corps also seemed to have joined this war against the Torch, and they even sent direct troops from the Eastern Legion.

As the largest ally of the Corps and one of the main member states of the Sticky Community, Duke Garava pondered that they should make some gesture.

At least let the Corps realize their importance.

Moreover, it was a deal with no risk involved.

Facing the wrath of three immortals, the Torch probably wouldn’t last long, let alone have their ashes scattered.

Perhaps they might even snag some spoils of war.

Stroking his chin, Duke Garava contemplated in his heart.

"... Let His Majesty send some people over symbolically, at least."