Chapter 645: I Really Am the Administrator!

Chapter 645: I Am Truly the Administrator!

At the trading post of Dawn City, the clamor of hawking voices rose and fell without cease, while caravans and pedestrians streamed endlessly through the gates, bustling from daylight into the dark of night.

Wagon ruts of varying widths crisscrossed the ground like a chessboard, and heaps of exotic treasures piled high on the stalls like small mountains.

Among them were octopus-style mechanical arms with eight mounts produced by Boulder Military Industries, clocks and jewelry from Hump Kingdom, general-purpose android maids and servants imported from Ideal City, strange spices from the distant sea continents, and soap manufactured by the Legion.

In short, there was nothing you could think of that wasn’t available here.

Long ago, Dawn City’s market had changed its business model, retaining the Alliance’s official bulk commodity trading points while leasing out expanded trading spaces to individuals.

The rented stalls were occupied by local merchants, residents of the shelter, and itinerant traders from afar.

Ever since before the Tide began, this place had gradually grown lively as winter passed.

Especially now that news of the Tide’s end had spread, it added a festive hue to the prosperity.

“Is there some happy occasion recently?”

Stopping in front of a stall, a man in a long gray-collared coat looked up at the decorations hanging in front and asked casually.

His skin was slightly dark, with deep wrinkles at his brows and eyes, bearing a weathered look, and he carried a suitcase in his hand.

The stall owner glanced at him, found him unfamiliar, and assumed he must be a trader from far away, so he smiled and said.

“The esteemed Administrator led us to victory over the Tide. In three days, there will be a celebration here—it’s an old tradition of ours. Say, is this your first time here?”

“Not exactly… but the last time I was here, this place was still a barren wilderness.” The man looked around and made a helpless expression. “Just now, I thought I’d misread the map.”

Seeing his unsophisticated look, the stall owner chuckled.

“That must have been years ago! Now this area is under the Alliance’s rule, long gone from the wilderness of a few years back.”

Though he hadn’t been back here for years, the man seemed familiar with the word “Alliance,” clearly having heard tales of this region elsewhere.

“I’ve heard about it—the Administrator of Vault 404 led his residents to build a prosperous utopia on the wasteland. They not only unite all suffering survivors but also swear to end the Wasteland Era as their lifelong ideal…”

The stall owner smiled sheepishly.

“Haha, not as exaggerated as the rumors, but it’s decent enough… By the way, friend, where are you from?”

The man said.

“The Southern Sea.”

The stall owner stared at him in surprise.

“The Southern Sea? On the… southern islands? I hear the scenery there is nice.”

It was too far away, and the Haiya Province and Jinchuan Province were in turmoil, so he really didn’t know much.

The man gave a bitter smile and made a helpless expression.

“If you consider sea beasts that can raise waves dozens of meters high as scenery… then you’d probably like that place.”

The stall owner laughed awkwardly.

“Haha, seems every family has its own troubles… If you don’t count the hive in the city center, the biggest thing here is the Administrator’s mount.”

The man was stunned.

“Mount… mount?”

“A deathclaw,” the stall owner said with a hint of pride, as if he himself were the one riding that deathclaw. “Even the mighty deathclaw bows at his feet. There’s nothing on this planet he can’t overcome… including the hive in the city center!”

The man couldn’t help twitching his eyebrows, wanting to laugh but thinking it impolite, so he thought to himself, *You just haven’t seen enough.*

But one thing the stall owner said caught his attention.

“What do you mean by ‘he overcame the hive in the city center’?”

The stall owner said proudly.

“Exactly what it sounds like. He killed that thing that even the Wasteland Construction Committee couldn’t beat. Not just this year’s Tide—there won’t be any more.”

The man stared dumbfounded, his jaw slightly dropping.

Killed…

How the hell do you kill that thing?!

He had studied mutant slime mold for years. The perverse nature of that stuff was that if even a speck remained, it would endlessly sprout again, and each rebirth made it more troublesome than before.

In fact, he had come this time specifically for that hive, and now this guy was telling him… the hive had been destroyed?

Seeing the man stand there dumbstruck, asking questions endlessly without any intention of buying, the stall owner gradually lost interest in continuing the conversation.

But since he was open for business, and not wanting to offend anyone, he didn’t feel like directly kicking him out. Instead, he “kindly” reminded him.

“If you want to learn about Dawn City, I suggest you buy the latest newspaper, then go to the Road Town Inn at the gate and order a beer to sit with. You can sit in the lobby all day without anyone bothering you, and there’s never a shortage of people to talk to… The stories you hear from those mercenaries and traders are far more exciting than what you’ll get from me. Especially that lame old Hook—he’s been here since Dawn City was still a barren wilderness.”

“Thanks, I’ll take your advice.” The man seemed to sense the stall owner’s disinterest, so he politely replied and prepared to leave.

“You’re welcome. My name is Zhang Datong. If you need wholesale hardware tools or automatic rifles, you can find me… By the way, what do you do?”

“I’m an administrator,” the man said honestly.

“Admin… administrator?!” The stall owner didn’t react at first, but after repeating the words, he was taken aback, his eyes wide.

“Uh… but not the administrator here,” the man suddenly remembered something and said helplessly, seeing the stall owner’s stunned expression. “No offense intended. I know the word has special meaning to you, but there are more vaults in this world than you might think. By the way, if I want to meet your administrator… how can I see him?”

Zhang Datong stared with his mouth open for a long time, then steadied himself, his eyes fixed on the man.

“…Really? Which vault are you from?”

Seeming to anticipate his doubt, the man sighed, rolled up his left sleeve, and revealed the slightly faded VM.

“Vault 70, Administrator Sun Yuechi.”

But to his surprise, the moment the stall owner saw his VM, instead of being shocked, he quickly lost interest.

“Tch, what does that thing prove?” Zhang Datong curled his lip dismissively, his once skeptical expression turning into deep suspicion. “Isn’t that just a vital signs monitor? Plenty of people have those.”

Sun Yuechi was dumbfounded, wanting to argue but unable to speak. Before he could, the stall owner continued.

“Even if you are an administrator, where’s your power armor?”

“Power… armor?”

“Yeah,” Zhang Datong looked at him strangely. “You say you’re an administrator, so at least you should have power armor, right?”

Sun Yuechi stared at him blankly.

Power armor and administrators…

Was there a necessary connection between them?

Seeing his shabby appearance, it was clear he couldn’t produce such a thing. Zhang Datong’s eyes held a hint of contempt; he didn’t even bother to mention that their own administrator could walk around in power armor without the power on.

“Forget it, I guess you can’t produce one… Then at least you should have a mount, right?”

“I…” Sun Yuechi’s face flushed red, unable to say a word.

Not wanting to embarrass him further, Zhang Datong waved his hand.

“Alright, alright. I’ve seen plenty of people like you. Every now and then, someone buys a blue coat and comes here to scam, claiming to be a vault dweller. Heh, but this is the first time I’ve seen someone claim to be an administrator. I’ll just take it as you bragging. Go brag to someone else—I don’t have time for you.”

Sun Yuechi swallowed the words on the tip of his tongue, glared fiercely at the grinning stall owner, picked up his suitcase, and turned away.

The residents here somehow feel rather dim-witted.

He had actually felt a flicker of anticipation when he first heard the rumors about the Alliance, but never expected it to be so unremarkable.

Something crossed his mind; Sun Yuechi, who had been walking toward the trade station, stopped at the entrance and suddenly changed his plan to visit the administrator directly.

Perhaps...

That not-so-bright fellow was right.

Better to first do as he said—go to that Road Town inn, buy a newspaper, secretly observe what’s really going on here, and then decide...

……

Meanwhile, at the Road Town inn not far from the trade station.

Lisa, wearing an apron, pushed through the crowded room, placed a tray full of beer mugs on a wooden table, and hurried off to the back kitchen.

Watching the young girl bustle about, Old Hook couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy.

At first, he had only pitied the girl’s miserable background, but as time passed, he unconsciously began to treat her like his own daughter.

It just so happened he had no children of his own.

Seizing a moment when Lisa was resting, he called over the diligent girl and handed her a small pouch of silver coins.

“I want you to take a few days off, starting tomorrow. This is your salary for the month. Come back after the celebration in three days.”

Lisa was slightly taken aback and asked in a timid voice.

“Have I done something wrong?”

Old Hook grinned.

“No, quite the opposite—you’ve done very well, and that’s exactly why you need rest. What’s the point of earning money if you don’t spend it? Go buy yourself some new clothes. The people from the Refugee Home are keeping an eye on me; I don’t want to be called a boss who exploits his employees.”

To prevent rescued unfortunates from being exploited by unscrupulous bosses, the Alliance’s Refugee Home regularly conducts follow-up visits with those who have obtained Alliance residency.

This was an initiative proposed by the shelter residents.

It was said to have originated when those meddlesome Blue Coats discovered that a certain unscrupulous company had deliberately recruited a large number of laborers with “supervised” status, exploiting their desire to become Alliance residents to squeeze them without limit.

This included, but was not limited to, refusing to implement the administrator’s declaration at the Victory Day celebration, continuing to exploit workers under old laws, and forcing them to work twelve-hour shifts on the production line without overtime pay.

The final outcome was satisfying: the administrator kept his word and kicked that guy out, and the incident even made the front page of the Survivor Daily.

Shortly after that, the Refugee Home added a follow-up system.

Old Hook certainly wasn’t worried about the Refugee Home’s visits, nor about any bad rumors spreading, because he knew he had never done anything to feel guilty about.

He simply felt that at her age, she should live a little more in the sunshine. If he had a child, he would want that child to be like her.

Ah... living under the sun.

What a luxurious wish.

Old Hook suddenly felt a wave of emotion—this wasn’t the first time; he had even forgotten that he was living on the wasteland.

Understanding the old man’s kindness, Lisa clutched the money pouch in her hand and said softly.

“But... won’t the celebration be very busy? Are you sure it’s okay if I’m not here?”

“It’s fine,” Old Hook said with a smile, waving his hand to reassure her. “I’ll hire some temporary workers to help.”

Just then, Debt-Eyes, who was sitting at the bar drinking beer, let out a burp and raised his unsteady right hand.

“Can I sign up first? Or tell me when the quest goes live so I can grab it.”

Recognizing the regular customer, Old Hook laughed and scolded.

“You? I can’t afford you. I still want to save some money for my retirement.”

Debt-Eyes, slumped beside the beer bottle, said with a woebegone expression.

“Eighty percent off... oh no, fifty percent off. Someone give me a job, anything, as long as it pays.”

Old Bai slapped him on the shoulder and said with a grin.

“What’s up, brother? Fallen on hard times?”

Irena, who was eating a skewer of grilled lizard tail, looked at him with a mocking expression.

“Come on, how much could that little hobby of yours cost?”

“Get lost.”

Debt-Eyes flushed red, as if he knew these bastards were definitely trying to mess with him, so he shot back first, but he didn’t have the nerve to admit where he had squandered his money.

However, his good buddy Construction Guy didn’t cover for him and gleefully spilled the beans.

“This guy bought over a hundred Scavengers.”

Over a hundred Scavengers?!

Hearing this, everyone was stunned.

“Good grief... your Intelligence stat isn’t low, huh.”

“What the hell use is a hundred Scavengers?”

“Ten thousand silver coins...” Fang Chang rubbed his chin, pondered for a moment, and said, “That doesn’t seem too expensive... it shouldn’t have cleaned him out.”

The price of a Light Cavalry exoskeleton wasn’t really that much for an Alpha test veteran—at most, it was a moderate expense.

In this game, silver coin income scales with contribution level and sequence level.

Irena also looked suspiciously at Debt-Eyes slumped on the table, feeling that things weren’t that simple.

Sure enough, Construction Guy continued to mock him with a mischievous grin.

“If it were just that, it’d be one thing, but could my buddy Debt-Eyes accept that his troops are all idiots? Obviously not! So this brother gave each Scavenger a gun. Sure, they’re pipe rifles, but 7mm bullets still cost money, right?”

“Uh, that’s true.” Irena did the math; it was indeed no small sum.

“See?” Construction Guy shrugged and continued, “And you know, Scavengers usually just stand around doing nothing, barely maintaining their organic balance... With his jumpy playstyle, he not only has to supply their ammo but also solve their nutrition problems.”

“Alright, stop it. I’m an idiot.” Debt-Eyes covered his face, almost in tears.

Construction Guy and Bricks wasn’t done yet; he grinned and hooked his arm around Debt-Eyes’ shoulder.

“Don’t be like that, bro, I’m not finished.”

Debt-Eyes shoved his hand away.

“Get lost! I don’t have a brother like you!”

Old Bai: “Hahaha!”

The group sitting at the bar chatted and laughed, and seeing how close they were, Lisa, holding a tray, couldn’t help but curl her lips into a smile.

But happiness in this world is always evenly distributed.

While some rejoice, others worry.

Just as everyone was laughing and coming up with bad ideas for Debt-Eyes, a startled cry suddenly rang out from a deluxe room in the rear annex.

“What?! They’re not selling?!”