Chapter 668: Build More Settlements; Don't Be Shy

Chapter 668: Build More Settlements, by All Means, Don't Be Shy

[Respected Administrator, by the time you read this email, our Ox-Horse cargo airship has already arrived over the Baiyue Strait and established our first foothold here on the northern shore of the outlet leading to the Southern Sea.]

[To be honest, the situation here is even more complex than we imagined. Traces of civilization have been completely erased by the erosion of seawater. The nearest survivor settlement is on an island over a hundred nautical miles away, meaning we can't rely on local survivors for experiential help—everything depends on ourselves.]

[Not only that, but the favorable climate has caused the mutated creatures here to evolve at an incredible pace. The rainforest is teeming with species we've never seen before. On our first day here, we encountered lizards larger than crocodiles, crocodiles akin to dinosaurs, pythons capable of swallowing a two-headed ox, bats the size of infants, scorpions and rats as tall as a man—and even man-eating plants!]

[Of course, what astonished us most was discovering wild 'Nafruit' in the area. Without a doubt, it might be the most primitive strain! Yet puzzlingly, our enemies haven't transplanted the improved Nafruit to this region or turned it into a breeding ground for Nafruit mycelium. We can't help but wonder if there's some hidden secret behind this. Regardless, we've sampled the strain, and it will be sent to Dawn City on the next return flight.]

[Back to the matter at hand—a series of troubles have inflicted considerable casualties on our exploration team as we ventured deep into the jungle in search of water sources. Fortunately, we only lost twenty-two lives to map out the area within a ten-kilometer radius of the landing point and clear a relatively safe open space along the shore.]

[Next, we plan to enclose the camp with walls, gradually removing the nearby rainforest and replacing our tents with proper buildings. For this, we'll need a large amount of construction materials, more transport airships, and assistance from the Jungle Corps. If you'd be willing to provide some help for the Alliance's future port, that would be wonderful. Our strength alone is too meager; relying only on ourselves would take an exceedingly long time to complete this work.]

[Additionally, following your teachings, we've initiated peaceful contact with nearby survivor settlements, avoiding direct military conflict as much as possible. Thanks to the help of the Meatball's crew, the governor of Ring Island has expressed willingness to trade with us. And if we can solve the freshwater issue, they agree to help produce some tools we need.]

[I believe this is a promising breakthrough. If we can prove our methods are better than the Torch's, we might unite some islands to join our camp, thereby weakening the Torch Church's influence in the Southern Sea, or even win over local survivors entirely to our cause, encircling the Torch Church from the south!]

[We are destined for a final battle with the Torch Church, and I can feel that decisive conflict is not far off. I'm sure you think so too and have been preparing for that day. I am absolutely certain that the outcome of that battle will determine our future, as well as the future of our civilization!]

[To that end, we once again implore you to grant us more assistance. Beyond resources and manpower, we need professional biologists to help us tackle the troubles we face in this land. Trust us—this investment will not disappoint you!]

[—Your most loyal subordinate, Time Is Long]

Not bad.

He's come into his own.

Looking at the email on the holographic screen—or rather, the pie-in-the-sky promise—a faint smile crept across Chu Guang's face.

All along, he had been the one drawing pies for the players as the dog-like planner.

Now his little players had finally learned his most adept skill and started drawing pies for him, the Alliance's administrator, in return.

This email was written by Brother Fang after logging off, sent to him through the task system on the "Wasteland OL" official website.

But he had to admit, this pie was quite enticing.

If his little players could truly unite the survivors of the Southern Sea and remove the Torch Church's influence from the region, the Alliance could encircle the Torch Church from both north and south, sealing off all escape routes for that cockroach.

At the very least, it would prevent them from fleeing southward to stir up trouble elsewhere in the wasteland...

After reading the email twice, Chu Guang tapped the table lightly with his index finger, pondered for a long while, and then spoke.

"Xiao Qi."

"Here, Master." Xiao Qi, perched on the pen holder, raised her right hand high, looking at him with an eager expression.

Seeing her full of energy, Chu Guang couldn't help but smile. He gently tapped the top of her head with his index finger.

"Help me compose a reply. I'll dictate, and you write."

With that, Chu Guang leaned back on the sofa, gazing at the ceiling of the viewing room, and after a moment's thought, began.

"I am gratified to see your growth. You have learned how to actively strengthen our power and spread the light of order to more distant places—and this has come sooner than I imagined. You have shown me the hope of realizing our ideals within my lifetime."

"I will provide all necessary support. The Jungle Corps will immediately deploy via airship to Baiyue Province. Meanwhile, a research team of biology experts will be stationed at the settlement when conditions are appropriate."

"You need to ensure a stable supply of electricity, fresh water, food, and basic necessities in the area, and achieve a balance of income and expenditure. Moreover, you must help the local survivors establish order, guiding them to participate voluntarily in our cause, rather than waiting with open mouths for your handouts or support."

"This is no easy task, but I believe with so many ready-made experiences to draw upon, you can certainly accomplish this arduous and glorious mission."

"Finally, give a name to this future pearl of the sea. It will accompany us into a new era—take your time to think it over carefully!"

The moment Chu Guang finished speaking, Xiao Qi had already completed the email and automatically polished it for him.

"Send it now?"

Looking at Xiao Qi, who was asking him, Chu Guang thought for a moment and said.

"Send it now. Also, later help me compose a task and send it to the Jungle Corps and the Burning Corps, instructing them to deploy to the Baiyue Strait area."

"We need to build a military base with airport facilities there to support the construction of local survivor settlements and ensure their safety when necessary. Once the military base is complete, transfer a few reliable officers from the General Staff to act as NPCs and issue tasks. For operations primarily involving the corps, it's more appropriate for us to issue tasks from here."

Having fully recorded Chu Guang's instructions, Xiao Qi nodded earnestly.

"Received!"

...

Southern Sea, North Island, Presidential Palace.

A man around thirty years old stood by the wall, where a map of the Southern Sea was hung, staring intently at the thirteen islands and various colored markings on it.

He was tall, wearing an old-style Space Force uniform, with two thick eyebrows forming a gray line and two gray eyes gleaming with intensity.

His name was Mongo, the first president of the Southern Islands Federation and the supreme commander of the Federation Navy.

Standing behind him was the Director of the Presidential Office and Chief of Staff of the Federation Navy, Charlas, also his most trusted advisor.

The Southern Islands Federation had only been established for two months, its organizational structure still rudimentary. The cabinet had just been formed, and the parliament was still in preparation. Although they had initially intended to establish an independent naval command system, the war with Vault 70 left no time for that.

Thus, the Federation Navy was directly commanded by the Presidential Office, with most of its personnel holding concurrent naval positions.

Looking at the expressionless president, Charlas reported solemnly.

"...Vault 70's submersibles continue to attack our ships. Yesterday, another cargo vessel was sunk two hundred nautical miles east of North Island, killing all fifteen crew members. After receiving the distress signal, we immediately dispatched warships to search the nearby waters, but unfortunately, the attackers had already fled by the time we arrived."

Mongo said nothing, his eyes fixed on the red circle in the upper right corner of the map and the small number fifteen beside it.

That cargo vessel was different from the others; it carried no heavy cargo, only some daily necessities and tools for setting up camp.

Besides eight sailors, there were five experts in geological survey and biology, along with two soldiers responsible for their safety.

Their original plan was to head to the northwestern border of Haiya Province, beach the ship on the shore, and find a suitable site in the unoccupied coastal mountainous area to establish a research station.

This was partly to search for fresh water and mineral resources on land, preparing for the Federation to establish land settlements, and partly to investigate the actual conditions of Haiya Province—what the "Heavenly Kingdom" there was really like, and whether it was as beautiful as the Torch Church claimed.

After all, some things can't be understood at a glance; only through prolonged contact can their true nature be revealed.

Mongo didn't fully trust the "Heavenly Kingdom" that the Torch Church had painted for him, even though he had visited the shore and seen that land where humans and nature coexisted harmoniously.

Rather than letting the Torch Church unilaterally feed them their experience in managing mutated slime molds and creatures, he preferred to send experts to Haiya Province for on-site investigation.

Even if it was just on the outskirts of the Heavenly Kingdom.

This way, the Southern Islands Federation could take the initiative in introducing technology, avoiding being completely led by the nose.

But someone seemed to be preventing them from doing this.

This was already the third cargo vessel sunk.

Although various clues pointed to Vault 70 as the perpetrator, Mongo couldn't help but harbor a seed of doubt.

He was all too familiar with the residents of Vault 70.

Like other Blue Coats, their greatest trait was confidence—or rather, an almost arrogant self-assurance.

This confidence stemmed from the era they remembered and the knowledge, experience, and methods inherited from that time. Though it made them seem somewhat out of place in the Wasteland Era, they had no doubt that they were the most correct.

In other words, they regarded the Torch Church's approach with more disdain than fear.

Even if they couldn't offer a better solution, they were one hundred percent confident that the Torch Church's method would never work.

Therefore, Vault 70 had no objection to the survivors of the Southern Sea interacting with the Torch Church. Over the past two decades, the survivor settlements in the Southern Sea had never closed their ports to people from the north.

It had nothing to do with simple right or wrong. A person who was extremely confident wouldn't care about the ramblings of those who went against him.

Because in that person's eyes, it was just the delirious mutterings of a madman on his deathbed.

If attacking the cargo ships of the South Islands Federation was a reasonable act in wartime, the justification for striking the research vessel seems rather flimsy.

They should have wanted the survivors of the southern seas to see those fellows’ true colors sooner, so why would they stop the South Islands Federation’s research ship from heading to the Sea’s End Province to learn more?

Three consecutive sinkings, and all occurring when these cargo ships were clearly deviating from trade routes.

If this were an accident, it would be far too far-fetched.

“…It seems they intend to fight this war to the bitter end.”

Watching President Mongo, who had been silent, suddenly speak, Charlas, standing not far behind him, quickly chimed in.

“Indeed, their attacks are growing in scope and have reached an indiscriminate level. We must prepare for a prolonged confrontation with them.”

Withdrawing his gaze from the map, Mongo turned to his advisor and asked.

“Do you have any good suggestions?”

Charlas cleared his throat and spoke cautiously.

“Relying solely on our own strength, it will be difficult to win this war… Their submersibles appear and vanish unpredictably. If we let them wear us down like this, in another two months we may have no ships left except warships. Meanwhile, they can stay in their shelters indefinitely without the burden of a large population. The longer this war drags on, the worse it is for us.”

At this point, Charlas shifted his tone and continued.

“As it happens, the Torch Church recently sent word that they are willing to take over the underwater settlement near Vault 70 and establish a safety zone in the surrounding waters… We might as well go with the flow and entrust Coral City to their management. That way, the safety of nearby facilities like the ocean current power stations, undersea power cables, and desalination plants would also be secured.”

“If we can guarantee the supply of electricity and fresh water, the Federation’s islands will have more confidence in our war against Vault 70.”

Coral City was the fourteenth settlement of the South Islands Federation and the only underwater settlement directly under Vault 70’s jurisdiction.

Its permanent population was about thirty thousand, located right next to the entrance of Vault 70, just five kilometers from the ruins of the Heaven’s Throne Space Station.

That settlement housed residents of Vault 70 and experts they had trained, primarily tasked with developing marine resources and studying the mother nest of the Heaven’s Throne Space Station.

Before the South Islands Federation was established, most offshore facilities in the southern seas were operated by experts from Coral City.

After the war broke out, Vault 70 completely severed ties with survivors outside the shelter, including those in Coral City.

To punish what they called traitors, the Blue Coats of Vault 70 barbarically blew up the nearby ocean current power station and cut off Coral City’s power and oxygen systems, nearly burying those thirty thousand survivors at the bottom of the sea.

Fortunately, the South Islands Federation provided timely support, reopening Coral City’s entrance facilities and transferring the survivors to islands in the northern part of the Federation—North Island, Bawi Island, Anle Island, and others—before the oxygen ran out.

Coral City was the settlement closest to the mother nest, with a wealth of existing research facilities and materials to use.

Mongo was not at all surprised that the Torch Church wanted to take over the abandoned Coral City settlement; it was entirely expected.

They had had their eyes on that place for a while; this wasn’t something that had just started recently.

Long ago, they had proposed moving into Coral City to collaborate with Vault 70 on studying the mother nest of the Heaven’s Throne Space Station, but they were rejected at the time.

Still, the directness of their demand made Mongo raise an eyebrow slightly and speak with a wry smile.

“Such a good deal?”

Charlas said respectfully.

“They may not have good intentions, but I think we can consider it. After all, as you know, that settlement is currently abandoned and unmaintained. If left too long, leaks or other accidents could make it uninhabitable.”

“If the Torch takes over that settlement, our defensive pressure at sea will be greatly reduced. If Vault 70’s submarines attack facilities under the Torch Church’s protection, it would undoubtedly be equivalent to declaring war on the Church… Whether they dare to do that or not, it’s all benefit and no harm for us.”

Mongo said expressionlessly.

“The conflict between us and Vault 70, we will resolve ourselves. Coral City’s affairs need not trouble them.”

Seeing that the President showed no sign of relenting, Charlas, who wanted to say more, could only give up persuading with a nod.

“As you command. I am merely offering you a viable option… Of course, I still suggest you reconsider my advice.”

“We’ll see. I’ll think about it.”

Withdrawing his gaze from his advisor, Mongo turned back to the sea chart hanging on the wall and continued.

“Anything else to report?”

Charlas quickly nodded.

“Yes.”

Mongo: “Speak.”

Charlas immediately said.

“The Alliance’s airship arrived at the eastern outlet of the Baiyue Strait, southwest of us, and established a base there.”

The Alliance…

Mongo’s eyes narrowed slightly.

He had heard of those fellows.

It seemed to be a force rising in the southern part of the River Valley Province, over two thousand kilometers away. Only a few merchants from Silver Moon Bay had been there, and the rumors about that place were varied and hard to distinguish truth from fiction.

“What do they want?”

Charlas hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“Not clear for now. The governor of Ring Island reported that they seem to be planning to build a settlement in the Baiyue Strait… There are about three hundred people there currently, but that was yesterday’s count. How many remain today is unclear.”

Hearing this amusing account, Mongo couldn’t help but laugh out loud, covering his mouth with a fist as he coughed dryly.

Charlas also smiled and continued.

“They’ve shown no hostile behavior for now, but I feel their motives here are not simple… This morning, they sent us a telegram through the governor’s office of Ring Island.”

Mongo extended his hand.

“Let me see.”

Charlas nodded, quickly pulled the telegram paper from the folder under his arm, and respectfully presented it.

Mongo took the paper and glanced over it roughly.

The content of the telegram was very short—so short that two sentences could sum it all up: first, a cordial greeting to their neighbors, and second, a declaration of the Alliance’s ownership over that area.

Mongo wasn’t particularly concerned about either statement; in fact, he found it amusing.

Over a month ago, he had proposed to the Torch Church that they establish a “cooperative pilot” on the eastern coast of Baiyue Province, since the climate there was actually quite similar to the southern seas.

But the latter had rejected the proposal, citing the complexity of Baiyue Province, and insisted on conducting research on islands or underwater settlements in the southern seas.

Clearly, not only Vault 70 but even the Torch Church was temporarily unable to do anything with that land. Mongo didn’t think those fellows two thousand kilometers away could come up with a better idea.

Especially when he saw the signature at the bottom of the telegram, he couldn’t help but laugh a second time.

“…French Fry Port.”

What a ridiculous name.

Were these guys serious?

Charlas played along with a smile and said teasingly.

“Sounds like a joke.”

“Joke or not, it’s better to give a formal reply.”

Holding the telegram, Mongo pondered for two seconds, tossed it back to Charlas, cleared his throat, and continued.

“Send them a reply telegram: say… ‘Have fun in the woods. If you don’t mind, feel free to build a few more settlements in Baiyue Province. Don’t be shy.’”

"When you return, remember to convey my regards to your manager."