Chapter 942 - This Game Is Too Realistic

Chapter 942: Here Lies His Haven In the vibrant province of Baiyue, amidst the picturesque surroundings of Mantou Harbor, Parry was diligently welding away under the scorching sun, perched on a steel framework a meter above the ground with his safety helmet on. Here, there were no wars or plagues, none of Tyre’s foolishness—just the blazing sun and pesky mosquitoes and flies. It seemed as if Batoa Province, currently a hell on earth, was separated from here not by a world but by several light-years. Setting aside the myriad species of insects, this place was quite habitable. The only flaw was that the abundant land inevitably led to laziness and complacency among its people. In just two months, Parry had completely forgotten his half-year of military service, never again contemplating fighting "for His Excellency the Marshal" or "for the land under the sun." The profound impact left by that container ship was simply too significant for him… "Have some water." The pleasant voice beside him was like the spring breeze blowing across the lawns of Batoa Province. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Parry beamed a bright, cheerful smile at the girl handing him a bottle of water. "Thank you." Blushing, the girl nodded slightly, mumbled something under her breath, and then hurriedly pressed a lunchbox into his hands before hastily leaving. Parry watched her retreating figure, observing her pause at the street corner, glance back, and shyly flee after locking eyes with him. He then laughed and unscrewed the cap to take a sip. Although not a top beauty, the girl was adorably petite, and he never tired of those rosy cheeks, so different from the girls back home. Most importantly, he felt she was a kindhearted person. From her face, he saw no fanaticism or hatred, a purity rare among his peers back home. Her name was Quinnah, and their meeting was purely coincidental. Her family ran a general store, and he had recently gone to install an air conditioning bracket for them, later using leftover steel to weld a ladder. They were of similar age, and over time, their relationship grew close. When not too busy, she would often bring him water to the construction site, occasionally packing leftover family meals they couldn't finish. Parry wasn't picky with food. After all, meals in the prisoner-of-war camp were mass-produced with little care, far excelling home-cooked meals. Besides, her cooking was top-notch. It was during their conversations that he learned she was from the Bird Tribe, originally intending to go to Polo Province. Upon discovering her identity, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. To think she was potentially the first Polo person he encountered since enlisting was quite remarkable. Reflecting on it now, he realized how foolish he had been. Two months ago, he had passionately chanted slogans alongside his officers, eager to venture to a place he had never been and fight people he had never met. What turned a young, handsome lad into a raging beast? He pondered this question many times with unclear answers. Sometimes he blamed Tyre, sometimes himself, and sometimes others. Yet, while unable to pinpoint the exact issue, he understood another matter clearly: A collective's fate is always determined by every individual within it. Tyre was no exception. And those manipulated by him were never truly innocent. In Mantou Harbor, most work shifts started lunch breaks at eleven-thirty in the morning, resuming at one in the afternoon, working until half-past five. If working under the hot sun, an additional hour was granted, breaking until two-thirty while only extending the end time by half an hour. Parry would often head to the harbor by the coast, finding a shaded spot under the warehouse roof where the sea breeze blew to enjoy the lunch Quinnah prepared. Upon arriving, he found the foreman of their construction crew already sitting there. The man, named Ding Ning, in his early thirties, hailed from a small place called Mafutown in Jinchuan Province. Unlike the officers in the prisoner camp, these foremen were independent contractors doing business, sharing an employer-employee relationship with the POWs, which led to cordial interactions. Noticing the lunchbox in Parry’s hand, Ding Ning jokingly teased. "That girl brought you lunch again?" Parry sat beside him, smiling as he replied. "Don't make it sound like I'm freeloading." Ding Ning chuckled, "Oh, did you actually pay her?" Unfazed by the tease, Parry replied confidently. "She wants to open a restaurant someday, but she's only ever cooked for her family and isn't sure about outsiders' tastes. I'm merely helping her work it out." Ding Ning lightly slapped Parry’s shoulder, suddenly adopting an earnest tone, "That girl seems nice, don’t let her down." Clearing his throat, Parry responded with equal seriousness, "You can doubt my work skills, but never question my loyalty in matters of the heart." Indeed, that was undeniable. Ding Ning recalled that the Verlant couples he knew enjoyed harmonious marriages, whether in Legion territory or within the Union. In contrast, the seemingly conservative Polo people often faced significant life and family changes once outside Polo Province. Of course, their circumstances within Polo Province were beyond Ding Ning’s understanding, his journey to Baiyue Strait being the farthest he had been from home. "I read in the news that the war might end soon. Have you thought about life after leaving the POW camp?" Parry smiled at the concerned inquiry. "I’ve thought it through—I plan to save up to open a restaurant and, if possible, bring my father over from Batoa Province. He always complained about the neighborhood full of old men, only accelerating his own aging. He often mentioned wanting to leave Aventur City and sip beer on sunny beaches. After a lifetime of service to the Legion, he deserves to enjoy life…" Pausing briefly, he continued, "But he’s attached to his pension and the respect of neighbors, though I never liked Tyre. He certainly knew how to please those old folks." Ding Ning looked at him in surprise, "Your family lives in Aventur City? I never heard you mention that." Parry chuckled, "Didn't I? Well, now you know. Not only do we live in Aventur City, but on Honor Road… Thanks to my two brothers who died in battle, I moved there young and attended Aventur’s best military school, graduating as a reserve officer." His time in military school were the highlights of his life. Handsome and promising, many girls of his batch had shown interest, though he hadn’t faced life’s harsh realities and only dreamt of achievements. Later, after six months in boot camp without reaching ten-squad leader rank, he suddenly found himself part of one of the most humbling units in southern legion history— Unit 100, a team packed like sardines in containers and shipped thousands of kilometers only to be captured upon landing. That mishap was enough to be a laughingstock for centuries. Ding Ning assessed the young man before him, noting his distinct presence and demeanor unlike other grunts, and surprised he emerged from military school. No wonder, even as a POW, with others developing calluses on their hands, he managed to find a partner. Yet, remarkably, the guy hailed from Aventur City... After a moment of silence, Ding Ning spoke, "I heard some unsettling news from Aventur lately." "I did too," Parry replied, focusing on his meal, reluctant to delve into the topic. That event occurred about half a month ago. Not only was Parry aware, but everyone there knew. Upon learning from the TV news of the unfolding events in Batoa Province, and the confessions of Unit 117 and the refugees stranded in Verlant Province’s south, nearly all soldiers who had let go of hatred felt a resurgence, a longing to reclaim their guns. They yearned to march back to Aventur City, drag Tyre out of his bunker, and question why he committed such inhumane acts. Most of the civilians driven into the sea were their compatriots; among them could be their parents, wives, and children. Some soldiers who hailed from Batoa Province even broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. While Parry wasn't as emotional, it didn’t mean he was untouched. He just comforted himself, trying not to dwell on the worst possibilities. After all, his family lived on Honor Road, where many high-ranking officers’ families resided. Even as mad as Tyre was, he wouldn’t start from that street… Noticing Parry’s sudden silence, Ding Ning realized he had touched on a sensitive subject. He awkwardly rubbed his nose, about to change the topic when he recalled something he heard from the bidders. About a month ago, the Baiyue Company took on a new development project that included a 30-acre resettlement area intended for refugees evacuated from the southern isolation zone of Velant Province. Most of these residents were from Aventur City, having spent a month in the isolation zone and nearly half a month adrift at sea, they were finally set to dock. The "Survivors Daily" from Fryfriends Harbor had briefly mentioned this event half a month ago but didn’t emphasize it much due to other pressing news. He remembered the article vaguely mentioned the docking schedule, which happened to be today! Those survivors from Aventur City might know more about the local situation. Thinking of this, Ding Ning suddenly became animated, looking at Parry with enthusiasm. "I have good news. Do you want to hear it?" Parry glanced at him. "You already said it's good news, why ask?" Ding Ning smiled mysteriously without explaining. "This evening, after work, don’t rush back. Go wander around the dock." Parry looked at him, puzzled. "What for?" Ah, so the guy doesn’t know! Ding Ning gave him a knowing smile but remained tight-lipped. "Don't ask, you’ll see when you get there." Rolling his eyes, Parry didn’t like the suspense but decided to remember it. After lunch, he took a short nap and then washed the lunchbox before heading back. On his way, he took a detour to Quinnah’s house, leaving the lunchbox by their mailbox with a note inside, praising today’s meal. Strictly speaking, it wasn't just flattery; to him, it was an exceptional culinary delight. Humming a tune back to the construction site, he swiftly completed his tasks, clocking out at precisely six when the bell rang. Recalling what the foreman said, instead of heading back to rest, Parry made his way to the dock. As he walked, he admired the street scenes beside the road. Thanks to the hard work of the POWs, this once barren land was now thriving, no longer just a bare-bones port. Under the guidance of Union engineers, they had built self-repairing roads using bio-mixed cement, established several lumber processing plants, and lined the streets with houses exuding a tropical charm. Once the houses were completed, a group of survivors from the Sea Cliff Province and the Southern Seas Union moved in. These individuals opened shops selling clothes, shoes, hardware tools, and bicycles, and started bars and restaurants. Finally, their wages paid in Union-issued silver coins had practical use. Yes, the Union wasn’t joking—they paid wages according to the Union’s minimum wage standards, counting from the day they landed, and even increased Parry’s salary after he signed with a private contracting team! To Parry, this was beyond belief—a crazy but true reality. Moreover, Baiyue Company, managing the POW camp, not only encouraged them to seek employment but also to start their own businesses, offering limited liability and loan guarantees for viable business plans! Except for the restrictions on leaving Mantou Harbor and bearing arms, they were almost no different from the nearby survivors. If they rented or bought a house, they could even convert their status from being in a concentrated dorm to "supervised residence with weekly check-ins," moving outside the camp. The Union wasn’t worried about them escaping, knowing that where could they actually run to on foot? As long as the value they created surpassed that of staying in the POW camp, the Union cared little whether they did intellectual or manual labor, or where they worked. For what Parry could gather, the captain of their engineering team had founded a construction company named "Build Fast." About a third of the sites in the new development area were under their charge, and they did excellent, speedy work. It seemed those guys had put trench and bunker-building skills to good use, and the houses indeed shot up rapidly. Not to be outdone, the adjacent Unit 100 captain took his men to open a sawmill named "Jungle Destroyers," reportedly so busy that overtime became a norm. As for the name, it might have something to do with their previous conflict with a jungle battalion. However, the Union employees weren't overly concerned about the name, with some even having fun taking photos under the company banner. Parry observed that officer ranks of centurions adapted well to entrepreneurship. As front-line officers, they had strong execution skills and grassroots prestige. Courageous and daring on the battlefield, these were qualities needed to kickstart enterprises. The only hump was overcoming the mental conditioning instilled by Tyre. But then again, those unable to adapt had long fled into the forests, never to launch businesses or return as productive citizens for the Union’s rebuilding efforts. In contrast, the field officers of higher ranks like chiliarchs and myriarchs struggled. Despite many having grassroots origins, they had been removed from direct command for too long. The Union didn’t provide these officers any special treatment due to their ranks. Adapting to the "demotion" was likely a challenge, especially while the war wasn’t over. With the fire now touching Batoa, and Tyre increasingly becoming a global pariah, the outcome was still uncertain to many. Even if it ended in a stalemate, they could be exchanged back to the southern Legion as senior officers, naturally disinterested in the Union’s financial incentives. However, Parry believed this conflict carried differences from the last. The Eastern Legion had once exchanged POWs with the Union, but the level of hatred and the range of warfare was incomparable, and the Union hadn't been as united back then. Moreover, the previous eastward expansion wasn't the collective will of the Eastern Legion but the remnants of expansionists under General Klass, making mutually claimed victories suitable for both parties. This time, however, it was about systemic clashes—an all-out war! Not to mention Tyre’s series of boundary-pushing acts during warfare; no one, not even among the Velants, would consent to let him slip by. The reckoning might sweep through to Aventur City. Parry harbored pessimism toward the war and the Legion’s fate, akin to that rancid container. Yet, regarding the Velant people’s future, he held optimism. Though coerced, in Mantou Harbor he saw an alternative potential. If Aventur City’s industry and steel weren't channeled into surplus weapon production, if the Velant intellect and manpower served personal and community well-being rather than superior commands, they needn't endure so many lies and hardships. Parry contemplated composing a memoir, reflecting on the war, hoping it might enlighten others. At the very least, it could help others avoid his fate—being trapped in a waste-stinking container, dumped on an unknown land to rot. Parry understood not everyone was as fortunate—safely ashore, mentally transformed, and encountering kindness. Before him were 99 batches, and countless more after—all without exception trapped in larger or smaller mires. The distant sound of a ship's horn pulled Parry out of his daydreams about the memoir he just started to conceptualize. He saw a hundred-meter-long passenger ship slowly approaching the dock. The ship was coming from the west. Parry wasn’t exactly sure what surprise Ding Ning intended for him, but he patiently waited at the square beside the dock. Soon enough, the gangway was lowered, and one by one, travel-weary passengers disembarked under the crew's guidance, setting foot on the harbor. Most of them were Velant people, their distinct noses marking their identity. They seemed to have traveled from afar, burdened not only with bulging luggage but also carrying thick overcoats or leather jackets folded over their arms. With Port Evernight in the southern hemisphere experiencing summer, he wondered if they had come from Silvermoon Bay? Or maybe West Sailport? No, wait— Suddenly, Parry spotted two familiar figures amidst the crowd, freezing in place. In an almost reflexive action, he shouted out loudly, "Dad!? Mom!" Some passengers, hearing the shout from the shore, looked up, saw an unfamiliar face, and then averted their gaze. But two people did not. Bazell, stepping off the gangway, halted in his tracks, staring wide-eyed at his son standing on the dock, tears welling up in his eyes. "By Marshal Julius..." His dry lips moved, whispering a prayer as he dropped his luggage, excitedly brandishing his cane, using it to speed up as he approached. His wife, following closely behind, moved even faster than him. She took several quick steps rushing towards their son, who was running towards them, her hands seizing his shoulders as if afraid he might vanish. Speechless, she seemed to communicate volumes in that moment, moving Parry as he looked at his mother, now older than he remembered. He suddenly felt the urge to cry. In his twenty years of life, he hadn’t shed a tear since he could remember, but now he found it hard to contain himself. Winded and breathless, Bazell finally reached them, supporting himself with his cane, grinning widely. "Ha ha... You rascal! I knew you had a large life-force! No way you'd die easily!" "Old fool, what are you saying?" his wife shot a glare at him, then turned her gentle gaze to their child, tenderly touching his face. "Tyre's people told us you were lost at sea, asking us to grieve and move on. Your father and I never thought we'd see you again... It doesn't matter now, you're safe…" Seeing the haggard faces of his parents, Parry sniffled, a sob catching in his throat. "Mom, Dad... sorry you had to suffer." His mother smiled softly, speaking in a soothing tone. "No, there's nothing to apologize for. Your father and I are fine. Your father had a mishap at sea, but thankfully, Captain Malok rescued him. He caught a cold when we came ashore, causing him and his rescuer to be quarantined." Parry had seen reports about that cold, famously dubbed the "Death Syrup." Initially said to target Velant people, it was later found to infect others as well, even affecting some Awakened ones. "So, Dad's alright now..." His mother replied, smiling, "This old man was ready to pick out his resting place, but thanks to the bioresearch teams, he pulled through." Although a specific cure hadn’t been found, diligent treatment and strong immunity allowed some chance of recovery. Looking at the joyfully contented face of his father, Parry felt relieved and momentarily speechless. Bazell, happy to be reunited with his son who was not only intact but seemed healthier, gleamed with joy. "So, how have things been for you here? I heard that you guys..." Meeting his father's gaze, Parry quickly spoke up. "I'm doing well. The Union hasn’t mistreated us. They even provided us with jobs and had us build our community… Although we're restricted to the area near the camp, they treat us fairly." Bazell, shocked, looked around at the well-kept streets and rows of little houses, incredulously asking, "These... were built by you?" Seeing his father's surprised expression, Parry beamed with pride. "Yeah! We built the roads starting from the port, and those houses too!" Frowning slightly, his mother anxiously rubbed her son's face, saying worriedly, "You must have had a hard time... You're all tanned." "Not at all," Parry replied with a laugh. "At least working for the Union, our lives aren’t at risk. That wasn’t guaranteed with Tyre..." Thinking of Tyre, anger flared within him, harboring a wish to see him punished severely. But now wasn’t the time for thoughts of revenge. Taking a deep breath, Parry earnestly spoke, "Mom, Dad, let’s not talk about me for now. I worried sick about you both. I’ll take a day off tomorrow to show you around." Fearing to inconvenience their son, Bazell quickly interjected, "No need for that; keep yourself busy and behave well at the camp to earn an early release... We plan to leave Batoa Province and settle here." Parry smiled, "It’s no trouble. I haven't used my leave this month yet." Bazell stared incredulously. "You get leave? Is this truly a POW camp?" Parry chuckled, "Yeah, we really do… By the way, do you have a place to stay? I’ll help you with your luggage first, and we can catch up over dinner later." It seemed the world had indeed changed. Looking at his youngest son, who had subtly integrated himself as part of the Union, Bazell couldn't help but feel a certain comfort that perhaps the future wouldn’t be as bleak as he had feared. Even if the southern Legion faced a total defeat and its traditional stronghold faltered under Tyre’s hands, Velants would not vanish from the world. They would just live differently. Once he came to terms with it, the world suddenly felt broader, the regrets over missing Marshal Julius’s funeral and the hardships of wandering seemed insignificant. Here, he had found his haven…