This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 93: The Mark of Blood

Chapter 93: Chapter 93: The Mark of Blood

Linghu Wetland Park.

By an unnamed river, the surroundings consisted of burnt soil and tree trunks.

The previous fire had been extinguished, torches encircled the open space, corralling twenty-nine disheartened captives in the center.

It was now the second half of the night, and in a few hours, it would be dawn.

Night Ten yawned, looking towards Old White.

"How long until the Manager returns?"

"I don’t know."

"And Wild Wind?"

Fang Chang pointed his chin towards the half-dug cave by the river.

"He had class in the afternoon and fell asleep there."

Logging off in the game was quite convenient except for safely logging off at respawn points, any scene that resulted in loss of consciousness could disconnect you.

That included, but was not limited to, being knocked unconscious or simply sleeping.

However, this method wouldn’t save your Gene Sequence progress.

Hearing that Wild Wind had gone to class, Night Ten asked in confusion.

"Didn’t he send his assistant the PPT?"

"I don’t know, probably couldn’t leave his students behind. Anyway, the mission was over, and since he was spaced out, I let him log off to handle his things. When he wakes up, he can just take over our shift."

As one of the earliest veterans in their group, Old White probably had the longest contact with Wild Wind and understood him best.

"...Don’t be fooled by how Wild Wind brags in the group chat every day. In reality, he’s actually a very honest and dorky guy, extremely dedicated to his work, and has no other hobbies but the game."

Night Ten chuckled.

"I didn’t see the honesty, but he does seem broody."

Old White laughed.

"Haha, just keep roasting him while he’s offline!"

Night Ten: "Speaking of which... After logging off, the game characters are unresponsive no matter what you do?"

"Probably, so logging out in non-safe zones is really risky if no one’s watching," Fang Chang glanced at Night Ten, "What are you thinking?"

Night Ten’s eyes flickered.

"I’m not up to anything, just thinking... What if we all logged off? Wouldn’t NPCs be able to do whatever they want with us in the cultivation chambers?"

Hearing this bizarre idea, Old White and Fang Chang choked on their spit.

"Putt."

"Cough! Alright, stop projecting your filthy thoughts onto others. Besides, such baseless speculations are utterly meaningless. You have no evidence to prove it, nor any evidence to disprove it. Questions like whether aliens are always around us, whether our world is actually a game, or whether the science we know still works outside our ’Viewrange’ are purely a source of unnecessary worries unless you find credible evidence."

"What do you mean filthy! Can’t I be curious? What else is there to do while on guard duty, daydream? And you sound more and more like Wild Wind with that preachy tone," Night Ten said, rolling his eyes.

Fang Chang shrugged.

"Nope, I just think that people who ponder such questions are themselves very questionable."

Old White nodded in deep agreement, adding another jab.

"Exactly, and I think nobody would want to mess with your body."

Night Ten: "I said it was a hypothetical! Hypothetical! Ah, it’s impossible to have a common language with you old folks."

Fang Chang: "..."

Old White: "..."

At that moment, Tomato Scrambled Eggs and three other players walked over from a distance.

Seizing the opportunity, Night Ten quickly changed the subject.

"Yo, Brother Scrambled Eggs, what brings you here?"

"I came to take over the shift. Didn’t the Manager say I’d be on duty after 2 A.M.?" Scrambled Eggs noticed someone was missing and curiously asked, "Where’s Wild Wind?"

"He logged off, got something to take care of in reality, we’ll carry him back later."

Scrambled Eggs nodded understandingly.

"Ah."

Since others had come to take over, they could relax now.

Perfect time to log off for a meal, rest a bit, then come back to play.

Old White picked up Wild Wind on his shoulder then handed over the duty of guarding the captives to Scrambled Eggs and the others, and then walked away with Night Ten and Fang Chang.

Now it was Scrambled Eggs and their turn to be bored.

At first, the four young players stood guard with serious expressions, but since all the captives were asleep, they gathered to chat casually and pass the time.

"That was rash, had I known guarding was so boring, should have bought some meat and charcoal from the warehouse to grill and eat."

"Right, speaking of which, Brother Scrambled Eggs, is rhino meat tasty?"

"I’ve never eaten that thing..."

"Aren’t you a chef?"

"What restaurant dares to do that???"

"I heard rhinos come under CITES Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora’s Appendix I species, seems like the penalty is at least five years with no upper limit. But there are probably no wild rhinos in China, you’d have to go to South Africa."

"...Ahem, should be fine in the game, right?"

Players casually chatting.

At that moment, rustling noises came from the nearby woods.

Everyone immediately tensed up and gripped their guns, but they quickly relaxed.

It was one of their own.

"How are the captives?"

"They’re all still here, respected Manager."

"Good."

Chu Guang nodded and turned to the players following him, instructing,

"Take these people with you."

One of the duty-bound players exclaimed excitedly,

"Take them back to hang?"

That had always been their approach!

However, this time it seemed that the Manager had a new plan.

"Take them to the abandoned tire factory four kilometers away, where they’ve built their own dungeons," Chu Guang glanced at those villains and said indifferently, "Death is too good for them. They will spend the rest of their lives in the mines of Red River Town."

The mines of Red River Town weren’t real mines, mostly just old landfill sites.

Only God knew what could be dug out from there; discovering improperly buried nuclear waste wouldn’t be surprising.

The slaves working there were disposable, with few surviving past ten years—the quicker ones barely made it two or three years.

But who cared?

People died every day in the wasteland.

The drowsy captives were all woken up, over twenty people strung together by a rope, the line stretching quite long.

With about ten players armed with guns overseeing them, there was no worry about these people escaping.

After walking four kilometers along the elevated pathway out of the city and turning into a street, they quickly arrived at the abandoned tire factory.

Seeing people already on the walls of their former lair, despair showed on the Looters’ faces, displaying looks of utter hopelessness.

Inside the camp, the freed captives stood bewildered on the open space, staring at the returning Looters instinctively wanting to flee.

However, upon seeing the ropes tied around the Looters and the warriors guarding them, these pitiful people quieted down.

Even the less intelligent could see what was happening.

The place had changed hands.

After issuing a highly rewarding "garrison mission," Chu Guang picked the ten luckiest players who raised their hands first to stay here, then he assigned the slower hands to gather the spoils of war, packaging them onto carts and hand trolleys brought from the base.

According to his and Hain’s "contract," all the spoils belonged to him.

After making these arrangements, Chu Guang approached Hain, looking at this merchant who had made substantial profits and said,

"When do you plan to leave?"

With a respectful expression, Hain replied,

"I’ve already sent Wen back. He moves fast and should return with what you need within four days."

Chu Guang asked,

"Just him alone?"

"Of course, one person is fastest. He has my token on him, so it’s all the same whether I am with him or not," the wily old merchant added thoughtfully, perhaps recalling something, "I know what you’re worried about, please rest assured, I am willing to stay here as a hostage. Even if you don’t trust my character, you should believe I wouldn’t joke with my own life."

Chu Guang looked at him with interest.

Knowing what I’m worried about is pretty good.

I didn’t even know myself.

"Suit yourself. I’ve never trusted your character nor cared about your tricks. I plan to head back to Outpost Base soon. Are you staying here, or are you coming back with me?"

Inside the base, he had left ten players in charge—five in each group, working in shifts. Basically, two stood watch inside the dungeon and three at the enclosing wall and gates, enough to watch over the few captives.

These spoils couldn’t be moved all at once; several more trips would be needed during the day.

The entire next day, the players would be busy.

"I’ll come back with you," Hain determined in just a second, immediately saying, "I don’t want to stay here for another second."

Looters usually weren’t very hygienic, and the stench of decay in their camp was unbearable for any normal person, likely only appealing to rats and cockroaches.

Chu Guang nodded without saying anything, gesturing to the players pulling carts and trolleys who were ready.

"Let’s go."

"Take our spoils of war."

"Home!"

...

They returned to Outpost Base at four in the morning.

Peering through gaps in the forest, they could already faintly see a few patches of white mist.

Except for the guards on the enclosing walls and a few players bustling about in the industrial zone, there weren’t many people in the base.

But wait a little longer, and it would be bustling.

Chu Guang found a couple of empty rooms in the main building of the hospital, lending them to Hain and his female bodyguards.

Then, instructing Luka, who had just woken up, to watch them a bit, Chu Guang returned to the shelter with Xiao Qi.

He placed Xiao Qi in the corner to charge, reminding it to wake Xia Yan for work on time the next day but not to disturb him, before heading back to his own room.

The door closed.

Sitting on the soft bed, Chu Guang pulled out a yellowed notebook from his pocket.

He had found it in "Bear’s" room—a collector’s item.

Since the notebook’s cover bore a Blood Handprint, Chu Guang thought it might be some sort of token from the Blood Hand Clan and had curiously stuffed it into his pocket.

What Chu Guang hadn’t expected was when he turned to the first page of the notebook, instead of the eerie customs or traditions he imagined, it was merely a plain diary.

[January 2, 2129]

"War ended in late 2128, 2129...so, this diary was written in the first year of the Wasteland Era?"

Chu Guang had a good memory for numbers, rarely forgetting what he saw.

So far, among all the information he had gathered, there had been no word of that war.

Perhaps this diary could provide some clues.

With a trace of curiosity about exploring old relics, Chu Guang, under the soft light of the room, looked at the first line under the date tag.

It was a rather intriguing sentence.

[...That day, I survived.]

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