Chapter 975: Harvest of Victory

Chapter 975: The Harvest of Victory

There was one thing that Gale Wind had overthought far too much.

The dog planner’s work was very busy; it was impossible to keep an eye on any single player’s specific in-game behavior.

Since the game’s launch, Chu Guang’s decisions had been mostly macro-level deployments.

This included the manipulation of public opinion in the “other world,” using limited information to make mainstream society believe that the unanalyzable *Wasteland OL* was the work of an extraterrestrial civilization.

Moreover, it was a highly advanced civilization that held a neutral or above stance and continuously released goodwill.

Based on this underlying logic, think tanks from various countries and major media on the internet added their own judgments.

For instance, some saw it as a warning from the “Big Brother,” foretelling that Earth would enter an era of prosperity, followed by a rapid decline.

Others believed it was guidance from a higher civilization, that aliens were searching for like-minded friends in neighboring universes, and perhaps soon cargo ships for mutual exchange would dock in synchronous orbit.

Of course, some thought it was meant to fatten up Earth’s inhabitants for a tastier meal… but that interpretation didn’t hold up.

After all, traveling thousands of light-years just for a full stomach was somewhat boring; it would be easier to set up a farm nearby.

There were also those with novel ideas who set their sights five light-years away, believing the extraterrestrial civilization was there, and that it was the “Gaia” appearing in the game.

Chu Guang didn’t know if there was a Gaia in that world, nor did he care about how various think tanks analyzed things, the tangled interests of different factions, or what any individual thought.

For someone already living in this world, those were all meaningless matters.

They could freely believe whatever they wanted to believe, or whatever their horizons allowed them to see.

The only thing that truly mattered to both sides was this—they had established a set of relatively fair trading rules through long-term tacit cooperation.

Under these rules, players worked for him to earn silver coins; various national economic systems recycled silver coins from players based on market pricing, and used those silver coins to exchange with him for high-tech that could stimulate economic development.

This was a closed loop.

When he released a powerful technology, silver coins would rise; to bring them down, stopping the auction for a few weeks or watering down the technology was enough.

As long as this chain circulated steadily, whether he was an extraterrestrial civilization or not didn’t matter at all.

Chu Guang believed that if he pulled out controllable nuclear fusion technology, even if he claimed to be God, plenty of people would believe him.

But fabricating it that way would be too absurd; he couldn’t get past that psychological hurdle, couldn’t even convince himself.

It was better to mix truth and lies.

As for the Planck constant measured in the game world being smaller than in the real world, that was far too technical for Chu Guang. At most, he conceptually understood that the emission and absorption of electromagnetic waves were not continuous but occurred in discrete packets, like a “frame rate.”

As for the specific value, he might have to find a small researcher in high-energy physics to ask.

Of course, whether that was necessary was another matter.

The survivors of the Alliance wouldn’t live better lives just because the Planck constant was smaller.

However, it was possible to replace the ignition device for the reactor.

In the office of the Alliance Building, Chu Guang received Wang Zhengyi, a nuclear engineer from Dawn City’s nuclear power plant.

The old master, already in his forties or fifties, had excitement written all over his face. He spoke vividly, trying to convey the shock he felt at the nuclear plant site to the respected administrator.

Although the old master rambled for a long time without getting to the point, Chu Guang patiently listened to the end, even instructing the staff to pour him tea and let him speak slowly.

And it turned out his approach was wise.

The old master, parched from talking, took a sip of tea, seemed to forget where he left off, and immediately jumped to the point he cared about most.

“…If we could apply cold-start technology to our reactors, replacing the outdated laser ignition technology, our energy utilization efficiency could increase by at least 23%!”

Hearing this number, Chu Guang’s face showed surprise.

“23%? Does ignition consume that much energy?”

Wang Zhengyi nodded seriously.

“Ignition isn’t a one-time thing. Every time we refuel the reactor, we need to reignite… including shutdowns for maintenance, and so on.”

“I see.”

Chu Guang nodded thoughtfully, his gaze growing more serious.

23% was theoretical.

The actual value might be slightly lower, but it was still quite considerable.

Although the Alliance currently had only one large reactor on the surface, as electricity demand increased, more reactors would inevitably be built.

For instance, Li Minghui from the South Sea Alliance had repeatedly approached him about power supply, hoping the Alliance could build another fusion power station in the south to reduce electricity costs in the southern seas and surrounding areas.

The South Sea Alliance’s electricity and fresh water mainly relied on imports from Fries Port. While tidal and wind energy were useful, the maintenance costs of the facilities were high.

And power generation was also a major issue.

The deployment speed of ocean current power stations could no longer keep up with the economic growth of the southern seas and surrounding regions.

For a growing emerging economy, renewable energy could only serve as a supplement to non-renewable energy, hardly playing a backbone role.

Especially since the future space elevator would be located in the southern seas, local economic and production activities would surely grow exponentially.

“What about costs? Have you calculated them?”

Wang Zhengyi nodded cautiously.

“We have. Completing the technological upgrade would require a budget of about 20 million silver coins… but considering we’ll need to build new reactors in the future, we believe this expense is worthwhile.”

Chu Guang nodded.

“Since you’ve already considered it, I have nothing more to say. Of course, the proper procedures must still be followed. Prepare a budget report and send it to the Ministry of Finance. They will set up a budget review committee to coordinate with you.”

Seeing the administrator’s support, Wang Zhengyi’s face lit up with joy, and he quickly nodded in thanks.

Before coming here, he had been nervous for a long time, worried he wouldn’t be able to convince the administrator. But he never expected the respected administrator to be so easy to talk to.

Looking at the old master nodding in thanks, Chu Guang smiled and said.

“What’s there to thank? If anyone should say thank you, it’s me, on behalf of the Alliance.”

After a pause, he added a reminder.

“Of course, don’t think that just because I’ve nodded, it’s set in stone. You still need to prepare the necessary documents carefully. The budget review committee has its own work to do; they have to be worthy of the Alliance citizens who pay their salaries.”

“Understood! I’ll get the job done!” The old master’s face was beaming, as if he wanted to salute.

Chu Guang smiled as he watched him leave the office, then opened the holographic computer on his desk and checked his schedule.

The first batch of work involved 21 units, including key public utilities like Dawn City’s nuclear power plant, private factories making engines and reactors, or purely academic institutions.

The Academy had indeed been generous beyond words this time. With these technologies as support, building another Ideal City or even several on the wasteland was no longer a difficult task.

Given enough time, the survivors of the Alliance could even rebuild a new world more prosperous than the old era.

That said, Chu Guang always had a premonition that contradicted his intuition.

Sometimes, like other shelter residents, he instinctively took Ideal City as a benchmark for the era of prosperity and made its prosperity the sole standard for measuring prosperity, forgetting that the standards for measuring things change with the times.

Perhaps the dense prosperity of the Human Alliance era had become history and would likely not reappear for a long time to come.

After all, the Earth of today was no longer the Earth of two centuries ago.

Ending the Wasteland Era was not difficult, but transforming a planet was another matter entirely.

The Alliance could defeat the Legion, but declaring war on mutant cockroaches or mutant rats would only become a joke.

It’s not just the planet’s ecosystem.

The people living on this planet are no longer the same as before.

History has taught wastelanders not only lessons but has also completely transformed their values and philosophy of life.

These things will not only make those reborn more tolerant of alien environments but will also actively push them to explore more distant worlds, passively dispersing the infinite risks that accumulate with infinite prosperity.

The children of the Alliance will be like seeds, with the solar system as their center, spreading prosperity across dozens or even hundreds of light-years, rather than building a single city from the prosperity of hundreds of light-years.

Chu Guang had a strong premonition.

In the distant future, the population of the Alliance would surely surpass that of the former Human Union, yet they would not all crowd onto a single home planet like in the Human Union era, but would scatter across tens of thousands of planets and space stations.

If that were the future, the experience of “building a large-scale laser array on the moon, generating power, and then beaming the energy directly to Earth” would indeed be outdated.

Decentralized power stations would instead be more conducive to flexible resource allocation and outward expansion, or rather, more suited to the “settlement-style” development of wastelanders.

The disasters that once befell the Human Union might occur again, but they would no longer be crippling.

Perhaps in the distant future, people from the Workers’ Association would go to the Andromeda Galaxy to replicate a Stone City, and the South Sea Alliance would find an ocean planet outside the solar system to build their hundredth artificial island.

The end of the world?

The entire universe is humanity’s home—why fear such a thing?

If all else fails, they could always seek refuge with the Academy, hidden away in some corner of the universe, quietly amassing wealth.

Unless faced with a crisis that engulfs the entire universe, no disaster could ever wipe them out in one fell swoop.

Thinking about those things many, many years from now, the corners of Chu Guang’s mouth curled into a faint smile.

“If only I could live to see that day…”

……

[Sad News! Conflict Escalates! Zaid condemns Mammoth State for occupying parts of Bird State and Sheep State and creating border conflicts, appointing Gromov as commander-in-chief and Yokal as deputy commander-in-chief to march north!

According to reports, Gray Wolf Army commander-in-chief Gopal had a dispute with Zaid in an informal setting over whether the time was ripe for the northern expedition. The fierce power struggle within the Heavenly Capital’s high echelons may affect the front-line situation.

Mayor Yodu calls on all parties in the conflict to remain calm and sit down for negotiations for the sake of their compatriots.

The Alliance has not yet commented on this matter. The *Goblin Observer*, representing the public opinion of Dawn City, commented that at least poor “Red Earth” has escaped disaster.

However, the *Survivor’s Daily* of New Westport holds the opposite view.

According to unreliable sources, the Heavenly Capital side exchanged views with the Eastern Empire on issues related to Red Earth.

— *Survivor’s Daily*, Golden Harbor Edition]

[Trial Concluded! Former Southern Legion Minister of General Affairs Jeffrey and other war criminals sentenced to death; “Iron Crossbow” rapid reaction force commander Hines and others sentenced to life imprisonment; former Governor of Eternal Night Port Yahui and other minor war criminals sentenced to 20 years in prison.

Currently, order is gradually being restored in Avant City, and reconstruction work in various districts has begun. Port loading equipment from the South Sea Alliance has arrived at the western port of Avant City.

Following the Alliance, the Willant Alliance, and the Corporation, supplies from the Eastern Empire and the New Federation are also entering the Batoia Province. Avant City may have become an arena for various survivor factions.

(Image: A long queue in front of the job market, with signs reading “Recruiting Marine Engineers, 30 silver coins per hour” printed on the most prominent boards.)

— *Survivor’s Daily*, Avant City Edition.]

At the entrance of the job market in Avant City, the endless stream of people mirrored the image in the newspaper.

Watching the bustling recruitment points, a man with a burn scar on his face stood in line, his expression uneasy.

The newspaper said there was work here to earn money, but he knew nothing except how to shoot a gun and drive a tank.

When his turn finally came, he hesitated, stepped forward to introduce himself, but before he could speak, the recruitment staff member asked proactively.

“Name?”

The man swallowed and rubbed his hands together.

“Ba… Bart.”

The staff member in charge of recruitment pushed a form and a pen toward him.

“There are at least five or ten people named Bart here… Alright, write down your surname too, and also write down what you’re good at, so we can arrange a suitable job for you.”

Bart nodded hastily, picked up the pen, and wrote his surname on the form.

When he reached the column for skills, he hesitated, then finally wrote down his experience.

The staff member’s eyes lit up upon seeing it.

“You can drive a tank?”

“Yes…” Bart looked warily at the recruitment staff member and slowly nodded.

But the staff member, instead of calling for security as Bart had expected, patted his shoulder happily.

“Great, we need someone to drive an excavator!”

Bart was stunned.

“Ex… excavator?”

“Well, they both have tracks, don’t they? And they’re both made by the Ravenca Industrial Zone. I believe you can do this job!”

The staff member winked at him and, without further ado, shoved a card much thicker than a military ID into his hand.

“This is your work badge. Report to the address on the badge tomorrow at 8 a.m. If you don’t show up, it’s void.”

“I’ll be there on time!” Bart quickly swore, but saw that the man wasn’t even looking at him, so he hurriedly asked, “Is that all? No other procedures?”

The staff member waved his hand with a smile.

“That’s it. We’re in need of people right now. As long as you have hands and feet and can understand human speech, you’re fine. Oh, and if you’re in a hurry for money, you can take your work badge to the bank outside the job market to apply for a relief loan. Your hourly wage is 12 silver coins. They’ll lend you a week’s salary in advance based on that, and it’s interest-free if you repay within a month.”

Another staff member chimed in with a joke.

“He didn’t finish—actually, even if you don’t have hands, it’s fine. We can install one for you first.”

“That won’t be necessary…” Never having been treated so kindly, Bart felt flustered and grateful, looking at the two men. “Thank you…”

“You’re welcome, brother,” the staff member said, patting his arm firmly and giving him a grin. “People have to look forward. Hope you start a new life soon.”

After thanking them repeatedly, Bart didn’t linger and hurried away from the recruitment point.

He felt his steps were incredibly light, as if he were floating in the sky.

12 silver coins an hour!

If he worked hard, he might even earn 2,000 silver coins in a month!

Converted to dinars, that was definitely a high salary!

Actually, there was no need to convert to dinars—silver coins could buy far more than dinars.

He couldn’t wait to fly home and tell his dear wife and children the good news!

But just as he reached the entrance of the job market, a Willant man in a coat stopped him.

“Hey, brother.”

Looking at that unfamiliar face, Bart furrowed his brow slightly.

“…Do I know you?”

Sensing his wariness, the man didn’t seem to mind, merely smiling as he spoke to him.

“I’ve got a more lucrative job here. Interested?”

The expression on Bart’s face grew even more guarded, and he replied at once.

“I don’t do anything illegal.”

“It’s not illegal, just risky—but I know that’s nothing to you folks,” the man said with a chuckle, lowering his voice as he continued. “There’s a war in the Brahmin Province. They need instructors there. You know the drill. I can help you get this much.”

As he spoke, he wiggled both index fingers.

“Twenty thousand silver coins a month.”

Twenty thousand!

Bart stared at him in astonishment, and for a fleeting moment, he was genuinely tempted.

But only for a moment.

He thought of his family, and he thought of the days gone by. After a brief hesitation, he finally shook his head.

“No.”

He had come to realize, more or less, that what he’d done before was neither honorable nor glorious.

He didn’t want to return to that life.

Disappointment flickered across the man’s face, but he said nothing, merely shrugging.

“Alright, I’ll ask around… If you change your mind and I haven’t found anyone else yet, you can come back to me.”

Bart nodded but didn’t take the business card the man offered. Clutching the work badge in his pocket, he hurried off…

Not far from the gate of the job market, in a tavern that sold beer by night and coffee by day, Fang Chang sat by the window, comparing two different copies of the *Survivor’s Daily*. Suddenly, he let out a heartfelt sigh.

“I remember back when our shelter’s administrator said we needed to make many copies of the *Survivor’s Daily*, so that it would truly belong to the survivors, and no little brat could steal it and claim it as their own after he was gone.”

Sitting across the table, Dolly smiled faintly, taking a sip of coffee before speaking.

“And his good assistant never imagined that someone would steal that nameplate before he even left?”

The newspaper office in the Ravenca Industrial District had already been established and was running smoothly.

Ever since the liberation of Avint City, she had dragged Fang Chang along to rush over at the first opportunity, setting up the *Survivor’s Daily* branch for both Avint City and the Bartoya Province.

All the reporters and editors were locals from Avint City—some Velantians, others survivors of different ethnicities.

Hearing that pleasant voice, Fang Chang shook his head and said in a casual tone.

“Whether it counts as theft is debatable, but we’ve certainly seen the world’s disparities in the newspapers.”

The branches in Mammoth City, West Sailport, and Celestial Capital had essentially been blacklisted by other newspapers. Even if their articles were reprinted, they wouldn’t be treated as news—only as raw material for news.

The pirated newspaper office in New West Sailport was teetering on the edge of the blacklist… The reason it hadn’t been added yet was partly due to a “newcomer protection period” and partly because that office occasionally leaked some useful information, so it couldn’t be dismissed entirely as Saren’s personal mouthpiece.

As for whether the *Survivor’s Daily* nameplate had been stolen, Fang Chang leaned toward thinking it hadn’t.

That thing was never Alliance property to begin with—it was the survivors’ newspaper. How could it be stolen?

It had always been their own. The lies were because they were, knowingly or not, liars.

And as for whether the Brahmin people had been deceived, he also leaned toward thinking they hadn’t.

Why? Perhaps because he had watched them stumble step by step to this point.

As the administrator had said, it was a conspiracy of crime.

And predictably, fate’s punishment had already arrived.

Dolly gazed at him intently, then suddenly turned her eyes to the window and let out a soft sigh.

“I just think it’s so pitiful that they’re the victors, yet they have to endure sufferings that even the losers didn’t face… Maybe there’s a better way. And since the war is over, can’t we find a way to help them?”

“…We’ve already given enough aid. Aside from a profound lesson, I can’t think of anything else left to offer them.”

Fang Chang flipped a page of the newspaper in his hands, then paused before adding.

“Besides, the war isn’t over… The murderer in that case hasn’t been caught yet.”

“You mean the Enlightenment Society?” Dolly’s brow furrowed slightly, a trace of worry creeping onto her face.

She had heard about what happened at the “World Tower,” including that creature with writhing tentacles.

Fang Chang shook his head.

“Not just the Enlightenment Society—there’s also the Celestials, who are suspected to be behind them… Of course, only the former has surfaced so far.”

That little rat from the Enlightenment Society…

That guy was running around with a Gauss rifle on his back, likely wearing optical camouflage.

They still didn’t know if he was still in the city or had already slipped out.

On top of that, agents from the Eastern Empire and the New Federation were active around Avint City, scouring for Southern Legion engineers and unemployed officers under the guise of rescue operations, divvying up the cards left in Tier’s hand.

It was worth noting that the Southern Legion wasn’t devoid of high technology—they had made strides in jet aircraft and missiles, even if metallurgy wasn’t their strong suit.

Moreover, the Enlightenment Society had used shelter residents to train some high-tech personnel for Tier.

When the final battle erupted, not all of them were in the “World Tower” building; quite a few lucky ones survived.

But compared to the threat from the Lagrange point, Fang Chang felt that those talent-scouting spies were hardly a menace.

Almost child’s play, really.

After all, the truly valuable talents had already been snapped up by Dawnlight City and Triumph City. Whatever scraps remained, they could take if they wanted.

The Alliance wasn’t hurting for those few morsels.

As long as they didn’t cause trouble when it mattered most.

Seeing the faint worry etched between his brows, Dolly’s heart ached, and she felt an urge to stroke his head.

This guy was always fretting over the Alliance, even when he was with her.

“If there’s anything I can help with… you have to tell me.”

Meeting her gaze full of concern, Fang Chang’s face softened into a gentle smile.

He didn’t say anything blunt like “take care of yourself” or “just don’t cause trouble.” Instead, he reached out and gently patted her adorable little head.

“Yeah, I will.”