Chapter 945 - This Game Is Too Realistic

Chapter 945: Desolation If Avent City is the heart of the Southern Legion's 910,000 square kilometers of core territory, then the Ravenca Industrial Zone is the heart of its 2.7 million square kilometer colonies. Although the manufacturing in the latter isn't as dense as the former, it benefits from abundant raw materials and labor. Apart from high-end production capacities that can't match Avent, its low-end production is comparable if not superior. Particularly noteworthy are two crisscrossing rail lines that connect the majority of mines and factories within the 2.7 million square kilometers. By capturing this resource-rich area, once the Alliance's troops traverse the railways, they can effectively bring all production and strategic facilities along the route under control. For the Southern Legion, this is undoubtedly a fatal blow! Currently, it seems that Tyrell isn't planning to sit idly by. Multiple regiments, each several thousands strong and designated by three-digit numbers, are advancing with tens of thousands of clone decoys towards the Ravenca Industrial Zone. Meanwhile, the Corporation's 100th Division, along with the recently landed 101st Division, has been dispatched to intercept them. The repositioned Goblin Brigade and the Ideal City's Air Force will ensure airspace security and provide aerial support to ground troops. Conversely, tasks such as assimilating scattered troops and accommodating survivors impacted by the war have been handed over to the Skeleton Corps and other Alliance units. Although the haughty Council despises the Legion's "scrap," the Alliance finds great interest in those resources. While the steel from these operations isn't necessary for Ideal City's skyscrapers, nor do their products fuel Ideal City's economic growth, an industrial base that can integrate resources spanning 2.7 million square kilometers is crucial for reconstruction efforts on the wasteland. Seeing the value behind this industrial zone, Chu Guang specifically issued missions through the task system on the official website to some leading players on the frontlines. He instructed them to ensure the safety of local survivors and minimize damage to production facilities. Furthermore, through collective holdings in companies like the "Bull and Horse Group," Chu Guang tendered bids to Ideal Group, one of the five conglomerates of Ideal City and its subsidiaries, to devise a "capacity transformation" plan for the Ravenca Industrial Zone. Even though the war isn't over, for the Alliance and its allies, the outcome seems inevitable. They can focus on pursuits more meaningful than the war itself. Such as upgrading some outdated capacities and shifting the majority of military production towards civilian uses and infrastructure. After all, the Alliance doesn't require the Conqueror "No. 10." It's better to dismantle the armored steel from its treads to make tractors and excavators. Ravenca Industrial Zone's freight airport. Fang Chang and Lao Bai, clad in powered armor, disembarked from a recently landed transport aircraft. They incidentally bumped into Yan Yuan, who had just arrived. "Yo, Brother Yan Yuan, long time no see!" "Fang Chang? Lao Bai? Haha, you guys are here too!" Spotting Fang Chang and Lao Bai, Yan Yuan's eyes lit up. After greeting them, he jokingly scolded. "Damn it, I hurried over because I heard there was some big action here. But by the time I arrived, everything was already over!" Lao Bai chuckled. "Hahaha! Unlike you, I never expected there'd still be some loose ends." Yan Yuan glanced toward the direction beyond the airport. "By the way, where's Mole? Why didn't he come pick us up?" Fang Chang smiled. "I saw his post on the forum earlier; there seems to be some trouble in the industrial area." Hearing about a situation, Yan Yuan's face instantly showed an eager expression. "What kind of situation?" Noticing his eagerness, Fang Chang laughed softly. "If you expect some grand action, you might want to hold back; it's not what you're thinking." Pausing, he continued. "There's been a bit of a mess at the factories. Upon hearing about the defeat of the Verant people, alien laborers have blocked the factory owners, engineers, managers, and their families inside the factory. Fortunately, Mole arrived in time with a dozen armored vehicles to stabilize the situation, but the standoff continues." While some undoubtedly have pent-up anger, there might also be those ready to take advantage of the chaos. Though the Verant people brought this upon themselves, they can't simply ignore it. After all, there are Verant people within the Alliance's army too. Moreover, letting emotions, rather than law, resolve conflicts would inevitably lead to one group's slaughter over another. Mole, inexperienced in these matters, is adept at forum discussions but clueless in real implementation. Yet, he is self-aware. After gaining control over the situation, he made no further moves, waiting instead for someone more experienced to arrive. And that person, naturally, is himself. Not that Fang Chang is narcissistic, but indeed, no one on the entire server is better at handling such things. The example of Jinjialun Harbor is plain to see. From landing at the port to dismantling the existing chains of interest, fostering new classes, separating judicial, legislative, and executive powers, establishing an equitable distribution system, electing industry representatives to form an assembly, and appointing technical officials to build a municipal civil service system—it's practically textbook-level reform. He doesn't even need to boast; the residents of Jinjialun Harbor recognize him as their de-facto godfather. The difficult advancement of the Workers' Union in that area is largely because the Bai Yue Company under his leadership performs so exceptionally, overshadowing all others, leaving the people of Jinjialun, busy making money, uninterested in the Stone City model. Otherwise, Eugene and other union comrades wouldn't have been squeezed into developing their membership in West Sail Port or Snake State. Though Fang Chang admits that Jinjialun Harbor's success had a dash of luck, something non-replicable, yet the problem-solving approach is something to be emulated. Like first wielding the big stick of violent mechanisms to intimidate opportunistic speculators, then presenting the carrot of economic growth. By establishing a fairer distribution mechanism, both alien locals and Verant people could partake. The latter especially is crucial. Most societal failures, whether sparked by religion, tradition, hatred, or even basic human relations, boil down to inequitable distribution, causing a desperate need for societal reshuffling—people prefer mutual loss over a select few hoarding all benefits. As for the carrot itself, its size doesn't matter, only its presence does. The difference is merely in the speed of realization. And producing this carrot isn't difficult for the Alliance. The ten settlements on the Death Coast, the space elevator project in the Southern Sea, and the ports along the Hundred Yue Strait—all present evident needs. Their esteemed Manager's broad plans ensure these heavy industrial factories will have their order books full well into next year and beyond. As long as there are sufficient orders, the Ravenca Industrial Zone can continuously convert resources from the Great Desert into money through stored capacities. Similarly, the well-developed light industrial lines from Jinjialun Harbor and the Alliance's subordinates can allow local people to spend the money they earn, elevating life standards and, incentivized by profits, drive local factories to adapt their capacities to fit the Alliance's supply chain. Economic prosperity can mask some social contradictions, providing a time window to implement moderate reforms and resolve historical grievances. The inheritance left by the Southern Legion is enough for the locals to rebuild their homeland as they wish. And the Verant people living in the region will have ample time to rebuild trust with the locals. With a clear plan to address the problem in mind, "Alright, let’s not waste any more time here; let’s go and assist Mole." Seeing Fang Chang’s confident demeanor, Lao Bai teasingly quipped. "Seems like you've already figured out your approach." "Naturally," Fang Chang replied with a confident smile. "You do know who I am, right?" Yan Yuan couldn't help but retort. "Damn, this guy is bragging so much he's forgetting his own identity." After their pleasantries, they wasted no more time at the square and headed toward the industrial zone. A dense crowd indeed gathered there, angry people wielding spades and shovels, seemingly ready to raze the factory. If not for the Alliance's armored vehicles stationed there, they might have already acted. Their resentment is understandable, for these iron behemoths have brought nothing but misery to their lives. Before the Legion set foot here, though their lives were impoverished, at least they were leisurely. When the Southern Legion came here, they first seized control of their water, then forcefully appropriated their pastures and farms, driving them into factories. There, they toiled for meager wages to buy nutrient paste that tasted like stainless steel from the Legion. Truly nutritious foods never needed to proclaim their benefits, but nutrient paste was something even worse than junk food—everyone on the wasteland who tasted it knew that. Under General Lupis, they dared not complain, but now that he had been killed by the Alliance, they were eager to exact revenge on any big-nosed person they could find. Though their anger is understood, allowing them to run amok is not an option. Fang Chang, clad in powered armor, stepped in front of the crowd, giving a relieved Mole a "leave it to me" look before activating a loudspeaker and calling to the mass of people. "Everyone! Calm down—" As Fang Chang was contemplating his opening, an elderly man with dark skin stepped forward. The old man was frail, his face deeply lined as though afflicted by many hardships. His bloodshot eyes, set starkly against the whites, reminded Fang Chang of the beasts he'd encountered on the battlefield. "Why are you defending the Verant people? Are you in cahoots with them?" Without backing down, Fang Chang replied calmly. "We aren't siding with anyone; we're here to liberate all survivors suffering on the wasteland... I have a question for you. Before we arrived, where were you? Why didn't you resist when you were needed most?" The old man was stunned, as were several young people beside him. Clearly, they hadn't expected Fang Chang to confront them so directly. Unapologetically, Fang Chang continued. "The Verant people have machine guns, cannons, aircraft... But that's no excuse. We've faced these threats too, and dealt with no less fear than you have. When we united, what did you do? Rush into Southern Legion factories for work? Even if you didn't dare fight them, you could have at least organized and refused cooperation or slacked off, right?" "I'm not just saying these things lightly or painlessly; the truth is that you did nothing, and then questioned us for not allowing you your revenge. That's what you've shown us." Chaotic uproar and noise erupted at the scene. Although Fang Chang had expressed the Alliance's dissatisfaction as tactfully and gently as possible, many couldn't tolerate the rebuke and became even angrier. Honestly, Fang Chang was slightly surprised. He had thought Borro Province was the wasteland's baseline, but he hadn't anticipated finding a basement below the floor. These people couldn't understand what he was saying, only howling like beasts. A heavy feeling weighed on Fang Chang's heart. This was not what he had expected. It was clear he needed to adjust his strategy... While Fang Chang recalibrated his expectations, soldiers by the armored vehicles tensed, fingers on triggers. Verant civilians hiding in factories wore faces of despair. At this moment, a young, vigorous man stepped from the crowd, glaring defiantly at Fang Chang. "We did nothing? How could we do nothing! The Verants killed our people, and we just want them to pay. Why are you stopping us?" Fang Chang gazed at his wheat-colored face. "What’s your name?" The young man held his head high. "Bokassa!" "Who killed your child, what’s his name?" Fang Chang continued. Bokassa hesitated, waving his arms vaguely. "Everyone, more or less had a hand!" Mole, sitting in the tank turret, growing a bit impatient, asked. "Then how do you propose to solve this?" Bokassa responded bluntly. "Simple! Give us their mothers, wives, and daughters. For every death of ours, let them bear one for us." Fang Chang nearly choked on his saliva at the shocking audacity. Rarely was he at a loss, but this left him overwhelmed for a year’s worth. The crowd, however, did not feel ashamed by Bokassa’s words; instead, they clamored excitedly, echoing his sentiments. "Don't spare the men either!" "Let them watch! Haha!" "Yeah, yeah!!" Whistling and applauding, hands raised above heads, people seemed to crown him as their collective king, resonating with his words. Bokassa bore a proud expression and provocatively glanced at Fang Chang. His look seemed to say— You see, we are united too. Yan Yuan gave Lao Bai a subtle look, whispering. "These people are just like mutants..." The Great Desert was once the center of prosperity. Even if its inhabitants had long forgotten their past, they hadn't devolved to this extent, right? Instead, Lao Bai, unsurprised, squinted slightly. "Perhaps they've been around mutants for too long." Indeed, he mused. They learned long ago that gray mutants had picked up many things from humans, and learning is always reciprocal. While gray mutants studied desert tribespeople, these tribesfolk learned from the powerful mutant tribes, adopting the latter's cruelty and savagery. These traits diluted any civilization they once possessed. In fact, what little civilization remains in their blood might have been learned from the Verant people. In this regard, the Southern Legion's colonization wasn't entirely detrimental, contradicting the inherently evil nature of colonial acts. At least, the aliens in the Blackwater Alley of Evernight Port seemed closer to civilized people. Lao Bai couldn't think of any favorable solutions for dealing with them. Allowing these people to immigrate to the Alliance would undoubtedly be disastrous—a self-created disaster... He couldn't help but feel grateful that the laborers from the Borro Kingdom embarrassed the Alliance's radicals, leading to the conservative rise, raising ID application thresholds and establishing the Immigration Bureau. Now it seemed this threshold needed further raising! Apparently sharing Lao Bai’s thought, Yan Yuan shook his head. "There's no easy resolution... Fang Chang is still trying to persuade them, but they clearly don't want to listen." Lao Bai grinned. "As unsavory as it may sound, it’s fascinating to see him flustered for once." Perhaps they had too smooth a journey in Borro Province, and now they've hit a difficulty spike planned by those developers. Yet he thought a few setbacks could do some good; his close friend might have become a bit overconfident. Meanwhile, Fang Chang was still arguing ineffectively with Bokassa, and their debate had deviated from "modes of struggle" to the very concept of unity. But buried in stubbornness, Fang Chang hadn’t realized that being dragged into the mud meant he had already lost. "Unity? You say we're not united?" Bokassa glared at him, then turned to his supporters, shouting, "Tell them, are we united?" "United!!" A group raised their hands, chanting in an uneven but unanimous slogan. Fang Chang sneered. "Unity? Don't mistake gathering for unity. Do you have a common agenda, know what you're doing, and what you aim to achieve? Do you know what kind of future you want and how your peers feel... If you truly understood, you wouldn't be standing here clamoring for handouts. You’d elect someone among you to represent and communicate with us!" Bokassa, glaring with saucer-sized eyes, retorted unapologetically. "Handouts? Who the hell asked for handouts! We want the Verants, their wealth, their houses, their women! That's what everyone thinks. Ask them; I'm their spokesperson!" His words incited another wave of applause from supporters. "That's right!" "He speaks the truth!" "He represents us!" Fang Chang’s brow twitched violently as he pressed his forehead with his forefinger, once again lowering his expectations of these people. Something didn't feel right— He suddenly realized that the young man might have been correct all along. It was he who had misjudged the situation. Fang Chang had tried to open the cage without checking if it was housing people or animals. As he prepared to say something, the crowd ahead suddenly parted. A brawny man with heavy footsteps emerged from the throng. His body was composed of two distinct halves: one of coiled muscles and the other of menacing steel. Blood and chunks of flesh clung to the sharp contours of the metal, creating a terrifying visage reminiscent of a demon descended from the heavens. The blood drenching him was clearly from enemies. From the severed mutated heads he carried, it was evident that their blood belonged to formidable mutants! With a brisk pace, Midnight Slayer reached the tank where Mole sat, tossed the heads he held to the ground, and laughed heartily. "Sorted it out!" The open space before the factory fell silent, the air seemingly frozen in place. The once fervent crowd collectively fell silent, and the rowdy scene quieted instantly. Fang Chang hadn’t anticipated that a problem he struggled to solve would be addressed by his companion with just three words. And to top it off, the guy wasn’t even speaking in the unified human language! Instead, he used Mandarin, which the NPCs couldn't comprehend! Considering it was a battle report, there really wasn't a need for NPCs to understand. Casually flicking the blood off his chainsaw, Midnight Slayer continued nonchalantly. "Those Sadwind Clan people sure came in numbers, some two thousand big fellows! But they were nothing compared to the greenskins on Ten Peaks Mountain—couldn't shoot straight, couldn't stand up to a real fight. Before I even got halfway through them, they wanted to surrender. When I refused, they ran... Chasing them down was quite the chore." He laughed affably at this point. "Oh, and we saved about five to six hundred live ones in the nest. They appear pretty shaken, so I didn’t make them take roll call. Those mutants said some of them were sold by the Southern Legion, others by nearby tribes and slavers... Anyway, it’d be best if we first found them a place to stay, and maybe arrange for a few doctors." He claimed his smile was sunshine-bright, speaking truthfully from the heart. But others clearly disagreed. Seeing this blood-soaked, smiling demon, the surrounding survivors were petrified, especially with this demon speaking in a language entirely foreign to them. Including that young man, Bokassa. Seconds ago, filled with righteous indignation, he now deflated like a pricked balloon, his wheat-colored face turning ghostly pale, stuttering wordlessly. Glancing at the blood-splattered chainsaw and severed heads on the ground, Bokassa involuntarily took a step back. His trembling eyes radiated fear but also an undercurrent of admiration—or perhaps envy. It was reverence for raw power! It was the earliest and most primitive form of worship known in the animal kingdom! Bokassa wasn’t alone; the survivors riling up shared the same sentiment. In an instant, they had crowned a new king of the tribes! Mole, sitting on the tank turret, gingerly held his forehead, unsure whether to celebrate or feel resigned. Midnight Slayer scratched the back of his head, turning to Fang Chang, whose expression was a mixture of complex emotions. "Did I come at a bad time?" Fang Chang shook his head. "No, you came just in time… From now on, how about you handle speaking for us?" Midnight Slayer: "…?" To be continued.