Chapter 806: The Storm Caused by a Batch of Weapons

Chapter 806: A Storm Stirred by a Batch of Weapons

A goblin-brand excavator for a Conqueror Mark X tank—Mosquito felt the price he offered was already quite fair.

Both ran on tracks, so a one-for-one trade wasn’t unreasonable, was it?

Not in the least!

He hadn’t even factored in depreciation.

Besides, the Legion’s tanks were the kind that were plentiful and filling, with hardly any eye-catching black tech; their only selling point was the absurdly thick equivalent armor.

He had only one use for this thing: selling it to the Bharata Province.

Apart from a few warlords there, probably no one else would be interested.

Yet, to his surprise, the Vellant man didn’t appreciate the offer and angrily shook off his hand.

“Get lost!”

An excavator for a tank—and a Conqueror 10 heavy tank at that!

In his eyes, this offer was an outright insult.

Seeing the deal slipping away, Mosquito grew anxious but didn’t give up. He quickly grabbed the man again and pressed on.

“Brother, don’t rush to refuse—let me break it down for you. Hauling these pieces of equipment from the front lines to the rear costs as much as building new ones back there. Even if you don’t sell them to me, they’ll just be scrapped on the spot. Why not make a profit while you can?”

The decurion couldn’t hold back and burst out.

“Profit? What profit? Tell me how swapping a tank for an excavator makes a profit! Can’t I just sell it myself?”

Mosquito chuckled slyly.

“Well, you’d need a place to sell it, wouldn’t you? You’ve got no ships, no railways to haul it far. Who else would buy it besides me? And the excavators I’m trading you are top-notch. Even if your construction site here is done, you can drive them to other sites to dig earth—you’ll earn back the tank’s cost in no time!”

Dizzy from this rambling nonsense, the decurion stood dumbfounded for a moment, his mind slow to catch up.

“…What do you mean, drive them to other sites to dig earth?”

Mosquito’s mind raced as he quickly explained.

“Other sites, of course, means other construction sites… Ahem! The Alliance plans to build a port and settlements nearby. They’ll be paying for labor, and you’ve got the manpower and equipment—why worry about work? Even if you don’t want to do it yourselves, you can lease the equipment to others and still earn a tidy rent. It’s just a matter of how much.”

Hearing that the Alliance was planning to build a port and settlements nearby, the decurion suddenly snapped to attention.

“Wait a minute… You’re from the Alliance. Why would we help you work?”

Mosquito laughed helplessly.

“Why can’t you wrap your head around this? What does that have to do with us being from the Alliance? Even if you don’t like us, you don’t have a grudge against money, do you?”

At this, the decurion mulled it over in his head. It did seem to make sense.

The Alliance might not be likable, but those shiny silver coins were quite appealing—they could buy plenty of good things.

Seeing the decurion wavering, Mosquito pressed his advantage.

“Look, the war’s over. Those tanks and cannons are useless now, but you lot probably won’t be pulling out anytime soon. You’ll likely be stuck here for a while. Why not earn some pocket money to improve your lives?”

The decurion thought for a moment and then asked in a low voice.

“How many do you need?”

Suppressing his excitement, Mosquito smiled.

“As many as you’ve got! And not just tanks—planes, cannons, even rifles… Anything you don’t need right now, I’ll take it all. We can negotiate the price!”

“I can’t decide this on my own… but I can ask my superior. My name is Anthony. And you? What should I call you?”

“Mosquito! Heh, just call me Mosquito. Almost every Bluecoat in the Alliance knows me,” Mosquito said with a knowing grin, smoothly handing a prepared money pouch to the Vellant. “A small token of goodwill.”

The decurion weighed the pouch in his hand, his face brightening with delight. He agreed readily.

“Wait for my news!”

With that, he called out to his teammates emerging from the ruins and headed toward the camp.

Watching him leave, Mosquito grinned, flicked his cigarette butt to the ground, and crushed it underfoot. Then he walked toward a bulletproof off-road vehicle parked under an abandoned building.

This vehicle was the model produced by North Island Heavy Industries.

Ever since he discovered its doors could withstand RPG armor-piercing rounds, he had promptly ordered an entire fleet.

In the driver’s seat sat one of his “underlings,” [Deadly], who was idly gripping the steering wheel, waiting for him.

As Mosquito opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, Deadly sighed helplessly.

“…We have our own products. Why don’t we sell our own stuff?”

Goblin Tech’s gear was far more ruthless than the Vellants’.

But Mosquito waved dismissively, speaking with conviction.

“Nothing beats the profit of picking up freebies.”

He still sold his own arms, of course, but that didn’t stop him from doing business with the Vellants.

Besides, the war was over now, and it wasn’t the right time to open new production lines.

Judging by the Administrator’s recent moves in the southern seas, outer space exploration was the answer for the next patch!

To stay ahead of the curve, you had to learn to predict.

Mosquito had already calculated: this deal could easily net two or three hundred million silver coins!

He planned to pour all that money into Goblin Tech’s new venture—the outer space equipment development project!

While Mosquito was lost in his pipe dream, Deadly, sitting in the driver’s seat, couldn’t shake a nagging doubt. After holding it in for a while, he finally blurted out.

“…Is this deal reliable?”

Mosquito waved his hand with a laugh.

“Relax, it’s ninety percent in the bag!”

So there was still a ten percent chance of failure…

Deadly thought to himself, then looked at him and asked.

“Where to now?”

“To the port,” Mosquito said, placing a coordinate on his VM as he spoke, his face beaming with confidence. “I’ve already lined up the buyer—a representative of Warlord Jaha from Tiger Province. The man’s waiting at the port on Death Coast right now. Can’t keep our honored guest waiting too long!”

Tiger Province… Wasn’t that the state north of Port Ganga?

Deadly had never been to Bharata Province. He opened the VM map to find the location.

Hard to imagine.

Such a blessed land, far from all the core crises of the wasteland, could absorb hundreds of millions of silver coins’ worth of arms.

“What do those warlords want to do? Fight the Legion?”

Mosquito chuckled dismissively.

“Who cares what they do? Even if they’re gunning for our brothers in the Burning Legion, we’ll still sell them the gear… Might as well give those bastards something to keep them busy.”

Selling weapons alone didn’t violate the player handbook. Arms were the hottest commodity on the wasteland.

There is only one scenario that might bring the hammer down: selling weapons to a faction that has declared hostility or an embargo against the Alliance.

But this transaction’s target clearly didn’t fall into that category—it didn’t even have the potential to catch the Alliance’s eye.

“…”

Duoming cast a wordless glance at the fellow, then his gaze fell back on the map.

There, plainly, was an oasis far vaster than the one in the Sunset Province—no hives, no mutants, no freaks or other such nonsense.

Though it was still part of the wasteland, nowhere else on the entire waste came closer to paradise, or rather, to a place fit for farming…

Staring at that blessed patch of land for a long while, Duoming finally couldn’t help but sigh.

“…Truly, shallow waters breed many turtles.”

……

At the North Island Grand Hotel, inside the resplendent banquet hall, well-dressed guests came and went before the long tables.

Most present were prominent figures from the Alliance and the South Sea Alliance.

Among them were political officials, industry representatives, and academic bigwigs.

For instance, shareholders of Baiyue Company, top brass from North Island Heavy Industries, researchers from the scientific expedition team, and so on.

Beyond that, some survivor factions with good ties to the South Sea Alliance had also received invitations.

Such as the Mammoth State authorities, which had a labor-export relationship with the South Sea Alliance, and the Golden Gallon Port authorities and the Humpback Kingdom, which had close trade ties with the southern seas.

The guests chatted among themselves at the banquet, their discussions touching not only on the new order after the Heaven War and the southern seas civil war but also on the site-selection for the “trackless space elevator” and other possibilities for cooperation.

As the mysterious and wealthy magnate from the Brahmaputra Province, Duke Nihaq stole the show at the banquet.

The organizers had initially been wary of inviting both Duke Nihaq and the representative from Golden Gallon Port, but they soon found those concerns entirely unnecessary.

Duke Nihaq not only bore no grudge over past unpleasantness but even generously granted Golden Gallon Port an interest-free loan of 10 billion Xilan coins.

His lavish money-dispensing figure drew gasps and applause from the crowd, and he grew ever more buoyed by the adulation, even managing to squeeze a 10-billion loan out of the Humpback Kingdom.

Watching the beaming Duke Nihaq, Old Bai, standing in a corner of the banquet hall, couldn’t help but grumble.

“…What’s the largest denomination of the Xilan coin anyway? A hundred million?”

Fang Chang said with a smile.

“I think it’s a thousand—I can’t quite recall either.”

Old Bai was silent for a moment, then shook his head.

“…This is sheer madness.”

Though he didn’t know the exchange rate between Xilan coins and silver coins, he’d heard it was 5:4 with the gallon, and the latter’s exchange rate against silver coins hovered steadily around 10:1.

Ten billion Xilan coins would be roughly one billion silver coins. This stuff wasn’t just paper; it could be traded for real goods.

Seeing Old Bai’s utterly baffled expression, Fang Chang smiled faintly and said.

“Slave owners are mostly like that—after all, it’s not their own money they’re spending; in the end, it’s the screw-turners who pay it back… Do you think he cares? If I were him, I wouldn’t either.”

The frenzied printing of banknotes would steadily dilute the debts tied to them. As long as you had a way to swap Xilan coins for silver coins, Cr, or dinars, borrowing was as good as earning.

After all, it was an interest-free loan.

Even without any investment, just converting to silver coins and buying some Alliance bonds for a safe investment would net a pile of interest out of thin air.

As for exchange-rate losses from future Xilan coin appreciation?

At the rate Duke Nihaq was writing checks, even if the Empire’s serfs ran their sewing machines until they smoked, they couldn’t stop the downward trend.

Only two things could make the South Sea Alliance, the Humpback Kingdom, and other “speculative” little sparrows lose big: if the Alliance bonds they bought couldn’t outpace the Alliance’s inflation.

Or if the Empire’s low-caste serfs, while pedaling sewing machines, somehow cranked out an antimatter reactor.

That possibility wasn’t zero, but it would most likely only happen in Duke Nihaq’s daydreams.

Still, despite saying that, Fang Chang felt a twinge of envy.

Especially when he saw the Humpback Kingdom’s envoy, after just a few flattering words, walk away with a 10-billion interest-free loan from Nihaq—he was green with jealousy.

Those bastards had no knack for making the cake bigger, but when it came to slicing it, they were all too eager.

The most absurd part was that the cake being sliced was more eager than the knife doing the slicing.

As for him, the baker, he could only honestly bake his flatbread.

“There’s no justice.”

Fang Chang shook his head, sighed, and walked away, figuring out of sight, out of mind.

What he didn’t know was that as he shook his head and left, Governor Nihaq’s eyes had locked onto him, a cold smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

What a fool.

In the span of a single banquet, he’d nearly bought off all the Alliance’s partners, while the Alliance, whose walls were being breached, remained blissfully unaware.

Now Xilan coins had filled the pockets of wastelanders, just as the Alliance had once stuffed silver coins into theirs.

Just wait and see.

These arrogant fools would eventually be undone by their own arrogance!

While Duke Nihaq was dreaming of how the Alliance might collapse in ten or twenty years, the Alliance’s administrator was painting a grand vision for ten or twenty years hence with his followers.

“…We can’t keep living off the leftovers from the Human Union era. Only by returning to outer space and reclaiming the Human Union’s territories can we usher in an era greater than the past!”

Enthusiastic applause surrounded Chu Guang, who stood among the crowd, more the center of attention than Duke Nihaq.

An era greater than the Age of Prosperity!

It sounded not just beautiful but almost dreamlike.

Nearly everyone wore expressions of excitement.

Of course, some faces showed concern and worry.

A minister from the Humpback Kingdom’s court raised his right hand, and after catching Chu Guang’s attention, gave a slight bow.

“Respected Administrator, I must admit your plan is grand… but I have one question.”

Chu Guang said amiably.

“Please, go ahead.”

The minister looked at him seriously and continued.

“When we reach that time you speak of, where will we… or rather, the children of the Sand Sea Spirit, be?”

Murmurs spread around.

Chu Guang’s expression didn’t change; his tone remained gentle.

“The new era we envision is the result of discussions among all peoples. You can stay wherever you wish, as long as it doesn’t affect others on the same boat. We will give those unwilling to move to the new age enough time to ponder their place in the universe and decide when to take that final step… This is not forced.”

After hearing Chu Guang’s answer, the minister visibly relaxed, gave a slight nod, said “Thank you,” and retreated into the crowd behind him.

Compared to other kingdoms in the desert, the Humpback Kingdom was already relatively enlightened.

Especially the residents of Silver Moon Bay, whose openness to new ideas was no less than that of the residents of Dawn City.

The royal family of the Hump Kingdom did not fear the birth of new ideas on the land blessed by the Silver Moon Goddess, only that the flames of progress might burn too fiercely, reducing their prosperity to ashes.

Yet, from the administrator’s reply, it was clear the Alliance had no such intention.

At least for now, they need not worry about being scorched by those searing flames.

After exchanging a few words with guests intrigued by the space elevator project, Chu Guang suddenly felt a bit thirsty, so he moved to the long table and took a glass of champagne.

Due to unpleasant memories from his previous life, he was not fond of alcohol, but he had no aversion to low-alcohol sparkling wine.

And just as Chu Guang was taking a quiet sip or two, a young man suddenly approached from the side, looking at him respectfully.

“Respected Administrator, I am Weilu, an envoy from Mammoth State. Please allow me to take a moment of your time.”

Hearing the voice beside him, Chu Guang set down his glass and studied the young man for a few seconds, but unexpectedly caught a faint shadow of Shu Yu in him.

Especially those bright, spirited eyes and the vibrant, youthful aura about him.

Feeling a certain fondness for the polite young man, Chu Guang spoke warmly.

“Of course. What is it?”

Weilu took a deep breath and said in a respectful tone.

“I wish to… sell ourselves to you.”

Chu Guang raised an eyebrow slightly and smiled.

“An interesting way to put it.”

“Since you find it interesting, I’ll continue,” Weilu said, stepping closer to Chu Guang, his eyes gleaming. “The trade routes of the Boro Sea are a vital foreign channel for the Alliance. Merchant ships departing from Silver Moon Bay carry Alliance goods to various points along the coast of the Central Continent… Yet, the Alliance has only one military base on the shores of the Boro Sea. Don’t you think that’s too few?”

Chu Guang looked at him with interest.

“And your point is?”

Weilu pressed on without pause.

“The authorities of Mammoth State can offer the Alliance a stretch of coastal land as a strategic foothold on the northern east coast of Boro Province! We ask for no payment, and we are even willing to bear part of the logistical costs for your troops stationed there.”

Good heavens.

Was this a ploy to use the Alliance’s blade?

Hearing this startling proposal, Chu Guang glanced at the young man in surprise.

“Is this your idea, or your people’s?”

Weilu: “Of course it’s our idea!”

Chu Guang chuckled.

“I know what you’re trying to do, but unfortunately, the Alliance’s army cannot fight your civil war for you. We have more important matters to attend to.”

Hearing the refusal, Weilu did not give up but continued.

“We will not ask you to participate in our war—not in any form. I can assure you of that!”

“But if we want to keep that military port, we’d have to ensure you don’t lose the civil war, wouldn’t we?” Chu Guang saw through his thoughts at once and unhesitatingly exposed them.

Yet, caught out, Weilu showed no embarrassment on his face. He only continued, unflinching.

“Why not? We are clearly a better investment than the Xilan Empire. The first thing we will do after seizing control of Mammoth State is to abolish slavery! We will write what we are doing into our constitution, and once we take the entire empire, we will do the same across all of Boro Province!”

“That does sound good,” Chu Guang nodded. “But have you considered that if we step in, you will no longer be facing just the empire?”

Once the Alliance intervened in the civil war of Boro Province, the Legion would immediately step in as well.

The end result would be a proxy war between the Alliance and the Legion in Boro Province—exactly what Chu Guang least wanted to see.

He had many other things to do, including the development of the Heaven’s Vessel and the exploration of outer space.

Another clash with the Legion would benefit neither the Alliance nor the Commonwealth, and would only plunge the hard-won unity of survivor factions back into internal strife.

Seeing that Chu Guang had no interest whatsoever in getting involved in Boro Province, Weilu grew anxious and couldn’t help blurting out.

“I know you fear the Legion’s intervention… But in truth, those Valiants have already stepped in. They are sending everything they can—except troops—to our borders! And part of that is even using your supply lines!”

Catching the key information in those words, Chu Guang frowned slightly.

“My supply lines?”

Weilu lowered his head and said in a low voice.

“Exactly… They are using your railway to transport some military supplies from the Guard Wasteland to the Falcon Kingdom, then from the eastern industrial zone of the Great Wasteland around to the northwest of Boro Province, and finally into the hands of the Gray Wolf Army.”

Chu Guang looked into his eyes.

“But I heard they intended to ship those supplies back to the Legion’s homeland.”

Weilu replied immediately.

“Clearly, they deceived you! They plan to use those weapons, sent to the frontlines under the banner of ‘fighting for the fate of all humanity,’ to arm the Xilan Empire!”

The military stockpiles in the Guard Wasteland were astronomical, and leaving them there was a problem in itself. So when the Legion proposed using the Alliance’s railway to transport those supplies home, Chu Guang readily agreed.

After all, “facilitating the return of soldiers deployed to the frontlines after the war” was itself part of the Allied agreement.

He even gave the Legion a discount on the transport capacity, with both sides sharing the freight costs.

But now, it seemed Mr. Bennott had played a little trick—the weapons, once within the Legion’s sphere of influence, had simply taken a detour.

If that were true, this was no longer just a matter for Mammoth State.

Chu Guang thought for a moment and nodded.

“…I understand. I will look into the relevant situation. If it proves true, we will offer you some compensation.”

Hearing Chu Guang’s reply, Weilu wisely did not press further and bowed respectfully.

“Thank you for your understanding… We await your response.”

Watching the representative of Mammoth State leave, Chu Guang first called Lü Bei to have the Guard Corps verify the situation. Then he found Vanus, who was also at the banquet, and recounted what Weilu had mentioned.

Vanus lowered his head in deep thought for a long while before speaking.

“This sounds like something the civilian faction would do… They must have reached some agreement with the Eastern Legion.”

Chu Guang frowned.

“…What are they trying to pull now?”

Vanus hesitated for a moment, then ventured.

“Could it be… because of the space elevator?”

Previously, at the Commonwealth meeting, the Alliance had floated the idea of building a space elevator in the southern seas.

The Enterprise was interested, the Academy was indifferent, and the Legion was firmly opposed, arguing that such a matter should not be discussed in the Commonwealth and raising objections to the elevator’s location.

Chu Guang was actually quite easygoing—those who wanted to participate could join, and those who didn’t could stay out.

The allocation of transport capacity and profit shares would be based on the proportion of capital, labor, and technology contributed during construction.

Yet even with such a proposal, the Legion’s representatives remained dissatisfied and launched a series of attacks on Alliance Foreign Minister Cheng Yan.

The Legion’s large-scale arms shipment to the empire at this time could indeed be interpreted as an attempt to obstruct the Alliance’s space elevator plans through action.

After all, until the port on the Death Coast and the railway connecting Haya Province were completed, Silver Moon Bay and the Boro Sea would remain the Alliance’s vital—and only—maritime hub for a long time to come.

At this moment, it was also simple to give the Alliance a nasty shock—just enough to spread the flames of war from Mammoth Province to the neighboring Silver Moon Bay.

By sea, the two sides were separated by only a few hundred kilometers; by land, it was just a single mountain range. Actually carrying out this plan would not be difficult.

And besides…

This was exactly the sort of thing the Empire would do.

Realizing that someone was trying to use his own money to spite him, Chu Guang’s brow twitched. He pulled out his phone and made a second call to Lü Bei.

“How’s the investigation on that matter I asked you to look into?”

Lü Bei, who answered the phone, was equally bewildered. After a two-second pause, he spoke awkwardly.

“…Sir, this might take some time. We’re contacting the intelligence network within the Falcon Kingdom—only they can figure out where that batch of weapons went after being unloaded in the Falcon Kingdom.”

Chu Guang nodded and continued.

“Keep investigating… Oh, and hold the military supplies that need to be transferred to the Falcon Kingdom in the warehouse for now. If the Legion asks, tell them the train has broken down and needs repairs. Have them come to me with any questions.”

Hearing the order, Lü Bei asked no further questions and accepted it with resolute force.

“Yes, sir!”

Within just five minutes of Chu Guang hanging up, the entire railway line of the Alliance—from the Guard Prefecture Wasteland in Jinchuan Province to Bister Town in Luoxia Province—seemed to press a pause button.

Except for trains already in motion, all munitions being sent or prepared for shipment to Bister Town were moved to nearby warehouses and sealed.

The Alliance could not use its own railway to help the Legion transport weapons from one front to another. Until the matter was investigated, these weapons would not move a single step in any direction.

Later that day, the Legion’s ambassador to the Alliance, Warlord Bennott, learned of the situation from the quartermaster accompanying the train. He sprang out of bed, furious, and called the Alliance’s Foreign Minister, Cheng Yan, only to receive a perfunctory reply: “The train has broken down and needs repairs.”

The moment Bennott heard this, he realized his little scheme might have been exposed. But the Alliance had not yet found solid evidence, so they had resorted to this clumsy “tit-for-tat” measure.

The munitions the Legion had stored at the Guard Prefecture Wasteland military base were more than enough to arm thirty ten-thousand-man units, and they were all to the standard of the Eastern Legion’s regular forces.

So far, less than one-sixth of these supplies had been successfully transferred. A huge pile remained stranded in the Guard Prefecture Wasteland and along the Alliance’s logistics lines.

If the Alliance discovered the trick, they would have to find a way to dispose of these weapons themselves.

And thinking about moving that mountain of arms without relying on the Alliance’s railways at all, Bennott felt his head was about to explode.

If only he had known the Alliance would be so sensitive, he should have stockpiled the goods in the Falcon Kingdom first, and only after all the munitions had been moved out of Jinchuan Province would he have handed them over to the Empire!

But regret came too late now.

He could only send a telegram to the Falcon Kingdom, trying to destroy as much evidence as possible, while simultaneously contacting Warlord Lioum on the front lines, asking that airship pilot to help think of something.

Just as the Alliance and the Legion were embroiled in a dispute over arms transport, Mammoth Province—the very eye of the storm—welcomed several guests of special status.

And as for the identity of these guests, it could be said that they shared no small history with the Moon Tribe Resistance…