Chapter 671: Do These Monsters Come in Waves?

Chapter 671: Why Do These Monsters Keep Coming in Waves

On the north bank of the Baize Strait, at the northwestern section of Fries Harbor, behind a trench one step wide stood a three-meter-high earthen wall, and in front of it a palisade fence made of sharpened wooden stakes.

Not far from the fence, in the grass, lay corpses scattered in disarray.

Most were left by the mutants, but a few were players caught off guard.

Gazing at the bodies and the mud nearly dyed red with blood, Irene, who had just switched off her rifle’s safety, spoke with a subtle expression.

“I keep having this strange feeling.”

Elven King Wealth, standing beside her, looked at her.

“What feeling?”

Scanning the dense rainforest and grass ahead, Irene pondered for a long while before speaking in an uncertain tone.

“…It’s as if this land is alive.”

The bloodstained tree shadows and grass rustled and swayed, glaringly harsh under the blazing sun, especially the chirping insects drifting from the shadows, like the whispers of a beast, and the dense rainforest was the beast’s mouth…

This wasn’t the first time he’d felt this.

The first time he went out to find water, he’d had the same feeling…

…

Two hours earlier.

When the sky was still dim, over twenty diligent Strength-type players logged in early, grabbed axes and chainsaws, and headed to the forest northwest of the camp to clear land.

“Come on, brothers! Let’s see the mountaintop before dark!”

“Yeah!”

To the northwest of Fries Harbor was a relatively high hill. Not only did it offer a broad view overlooking the entire harbor, but it also allowed a distant view of nearly ten kilometers of coastline.

Moreover, the area had abundant freshwater resources and the “ruin mines” common in the wasteland, highlighting its strategic importance.

If they could control the high ground to the northwest, it would undoubtedly be a huge boost to Fries Harbor’s development.

So, to facilitate the land-clearing work, the Fries Harbor Player Autonomous Committee unanimously decided to build a road to that high ground for vehicle access.

The task of clearing obstacles was contracted for 100,000 silver coins to a caravan registered with the Merchant Guild, named “Dog Appears.”

In *Wasteland OL*, the caravan system parallels the legion system, essentially a guild organization for life-skill players.

After winning the bid, the caravan leader immediately hired a bunch of Strength-type brutes to charge into the northwestern forest.

But before half an hour of work had passed, over thirty mutated spiders burst out of the jungle, colliding head-on with the players who were busy working.

Those spiders were as tall as a man, their colorful faces like butterfly wings. They could shoot sticky silk to bind prey and tear them apart with dagger-sized fangs.

“Holy crap! What the hell is that?!”

The player who first locked eyes with the monster nearly got scared offline on the spot. Luckily, he had decent mental fortitude; he grabbed his axe and swung it, the heavy blade smashing the spider’s skull, sending pulp flying.

“Squeak—!”

The mutated spider let out a shrill cry, staggering back a few steps.

The player was about to follow up for the kill, but before he could take a step, white silk shot from the side plastered his face. Without even seeing where the enemy was, a tremendous force tore open his ribs.

Seeing his teammate’s plight, a nearby player immediately dropped his axe, grabbed the assault rifle slung on his back, and shouted while switching off the safety.

“Contact—!”

Actually, if they had kept enough distance, a few dozen mutated spiders would never have been a match for these battle-hardened players.

But the monsters in this game never played fair; they showed up without warning.

Plus, the area was thick with jungle and bushes. Several Strength-type players wielding axes and chainsaws barely caught a glimpse of the spiders before getting sprayed with sticky silk, instantly losing their ability to fight.

Fortunately, they were close to the camp’s wall, and players active nearby rushed to support.

The rattle of gunfire drowned out the jungle’s clashing sounds; tracer rounds pierced leaves and chitin mixed with fluids.

Faced with automatic weapons fire, the spiders’ silk and fangs fell short. The battle quickly turned from a stalemate into a one-sided slaughter.

After leaving over a dozen corpses, the monsters apparently realized these two-legged creatures were not to be trifled with and hastily retreated into the deep jungle.

The victorious players tallied losses and loot, freed the unlucky ones bound in spider silk, and dragged the dead players’ bodies back to camp to be fed into the active matter extractor for clone material.

After cleaning up the battlefield, everything seemed back to normal.

Players at Fries Harbor continued their tasks: some chopped wood, some fished, some mixed concrete, some explored.

But just as everyone thought the day’s troubles were over, less than two hours later, over a dozen ugly, sparse-furred mutated cheetahs came looking for trouble.

These beasts also gave no warning, appearing without any sign, pouncing on anyone they saw and tearing into them.

This time, the victims were again the “Dog Appears” caravan and the Strength-type brutes they’d hired.

Although the Perception-type players they’d temporarily hired sensed the threat in advance, they still had only a few seconds to prepare.

Many had just dropped their axes and chainsaws and hadn’t even grabbed their rifles leaning nearby to chamber a round when they saw over a dozen monsters already on top of them.

This wave of mutated cheetahs was far more formidable than the earlier spiders, and the casualties from this attack were much heavier than two hours ago.

In just half a minute, nearly ten unlucky souls were pounced on and bitten to death; only a few quick-reacting ones managed to retreat.

Looking at the devastated logging camp, the “Dog Appears” caravan leader wore a tearful expression.

“Does this damn dev have a personal grudge against me?!”

Irene sympathetically patted his shoulder.

“My condolences, brother.”

He and Elven King Wealth had been at the gate just now, and when they heard the gunfire, they joined other players to help.

Like the previous wave, these mutated cheetahs left ten corpses behind and then turned and bolted into the woods.

Irene had a feeling these mutants were like they’d agreed to take turns coming to their camp to feed themselves.

“…Hey, have you noticed? The mutants attacking our camp these past few days come in waves, and they’re grouped by type.”

Elven King Wealth said with a subtle expression.

“Good thing they come in waves. If they all came at once, our camp might not hold.”

“Maybe not… Anyway, let’s collect the prey first.”

Irene smiled, bent down, and hoisted the mutated cheetah he’d just killed, then called to Elven King Wealth, “Come give me a hand.”

They couldn’t let the fallen brothers die in vain.

“On it!”

Seeing Old Na already cleaning up, Elven King Wealth immediately slung his rifle onto his back, stepped forward, and grabbed the cheetah’s hind legs.

The two carried the prey one in front, one behind, back to camp, bringing the dead cheetah to a butchering spot not far from the west gate.

A player in a leather apron was scraping a boning knife on a whetstone. From the sticky blood all over him, it was clear he hadn’t rested since morning.

His name was Qingdeng Gujiu. Word had it he was a doctor in real life, but for some reason, he worked as a butcher in the game—a completely unrelated job.

Watching his skilled movements, Elven King Wealth couldn’t help but guess that the guy probably didn’t have the nerve to admit he was a veterinarian.

And with an ID that combined "lamp" and "wine," it sounded like an uncle from the 70s or 80s, probably an old veterinarian.

Watching the two people approaching with their prey, Qingdeng Gujiu wiped his sweat, glanced at them, then tilted his chin toward the electronic scale beside him.

"Weigh it yourself, okay."

"Okay!"

Irena tossed the mutated leopard onto the scale plate, while Elf King Fugui walked up and chatted with the boss with a smile.

"Business is good, bro."

Qingdeng Gujiu chuckled and said,

"Ah, just earning some hard-earned money."

Elf King Fugui asked curiously,

"So, are you really a vet?"

"Yeah—pfft, no way, what vet? I'm a doctor!" Swallowing the words that were about to slip out, Qingdeng Gujiu shot him a glare.

But Elf King Fugui didn't mind, grinning cheekily as he continued,

"Really? Then you get off work pretty early, don't you ever work overtime?"

Qingdeng Gujiu waved his hand.

"Ah, overtime my ass, I quit a few days ago."

"Quit?" Elf King Fugui was taken aback. "Why?"

Qingdeng Gujiu grinned and said,

"What's there to ask? My little clinic barely had any staff, just a fixed salary every month. The boss was sick of me, and I was sick of him. Might as well come here and work—earn a hundred thousand or so a month easy, isn't that nice? When I've got enough money, I'll open my own hospital!"

"666!" Elf King Fugui looked at him with admiration.

If he had that kind of money, he wouldn't waste it like that.

Wouldn't it be better to just stash it in the bank?

As the two chatted a bit more, Irena, who had finished weighing the prey, walked over from the electronic scale and interrupted their banter with a smile.

"Total sixty-five kilograms, boss, what do you think is a fair price?"

Qingdeng Gujiu did some quick math and said,

"I'll take a loss, how about 217?"

Before Irena could respond, Elf King Fugui chimed in with a smile,

"Make it 220 for a round number, we'll split it evenly at 110 each."

Qingdeng Gujiu agreed readily,

"Alright, deal!"

As he rolled up his sleeve to show his VM, Irena couldn't help but marvel—this guy must have made a killing as a butcher.

He didn't even bother to haggle anymore.

After transferring the money to Irena and Elf King Fugui, Qingdeng Gujiu dragged the prey off the scale plate and behind his stall, tossing it temporarily under the awning to deal with later.

Under the not-so-spacious awning, a pile of prey had already accumulated, most of it dragged from the woods outside the west gate of the camp.

The meat of a mutated leopard was mediocre, not much different from a mutated hyena. After slaughter, it was usually air-dried with salt, turned into jerky, and sold to exploration teams in need of rations.

Since this place was right by the sea, salt was the least scarce resource.

Jerky didn't fetch much money; the real value lay in the mutated leopard's hide. It was far more expensive than the hide of a mutated elk. With the market still having limited supply, whether shipped back to the Alliance or sold in Silvermoon Bay, it would net a tidy profit.

Besides the mutated leopard, there were also mutated spiders.

Though some intelligence-type player had proven with his life that the mutated spiders in this rainforest were inedible, their silk glands and venom sacs were valuable items.

The mutated spiders in Baiyue Province were much larger than those in River Valley Province, and the materials they dropped were of higher quality.

Though in just one morning, over a dozen players among the survivors of Potato Harbor had died, overall, it wasn't a loss.

All in all.

Staring at the string of numbers on his VM screen, Elf King Fugui, walking toward the camp gate, suddenly muttered out of the blue,

"Old Na, who do you think keeps buying silver coins?"

He'd been curious about this for a long time.

Though most players started as part-timers when they first began the game, it didn't take long for them to become full-time players like him, averaging 16 hours online a day.

If not for the fact that game characters needed sleep and real life required eating and exercise, he might have just moved into the world of "Wasteland OL."

It wasn't about addiction.

It was simply that this world was too real.

It felt like starting life over, and you couldn't even die.

But thinking about it, there were still many strange things.

For instance, the mysterious operator of "Wasteland OL," or the mysterious buyers at the "Silver Exchange" who kept listing and buying day and night.

Thanks to some kind of "unspeakable" mutual understanding between the two sides, closed beta players of "Wasteland OL" only needed to complete a couple of tasks in the game to meet their real-life needs. Play a bit longer, follow the not-too-strict game rules, and they could coast through reality, even becoming idle rich.

It felt like a group of people were supporting them for free, eager for them to spend all their time in "Wasteland OL."

He didn't mind this feeling, since he thoroughly enjoyed this fully immersive gaming experience, and it even lowered his material desires in real life.

He just didn't quite understand.

What were these "big shots" pulling the strings behind the scenes really after?

"Ah, if someone's willing to buy, then there must be a use for it. Why bother your head with that?" Irena shot him a sidelong glance and teased with a wry smile.

Elf King Fugui thought for a moment, then had a wild idea.

"I'm just saying, what if—right now, with only tens of thousands of players in the game, it's not obvious. But when the game goes public, so many people stop working and just farm gold in the game, society would fall into chaos."

Irena: "Hmm... is it possible that silver coins can buy something that makes work unnecessary, or makes some jobs require fewer people?"

Elf King Fugui was stunned.

"What do you mean?"

Irena said casually,

"Literally. For example, back in Dawn City, moving bricks relied entirely on strength-type beasts. Now, a set of miner exoskeletons lets one ordinary person do the work of five. That frees up four people who don't have to work. Whether they go to pour concrete, build furniture, or just lie in bed collecting welfare, isn't that much better than five people moving bricks together?"

Of course, this calculation only discussed the total social wealth created by unit labor, not issues like distribution.

Productivity progress was merely a necessary but not sufficient condition for improving living standards. High-tech, low-life scenarios like Bragga Free State were also possible.

But one thing was undeniable: since someone was willing to pay them to stay in the game, their in-game actions of earning silver coins in "Wasteland OL" must be generating social value matching that money.

There had been rumors on the forums before that the items auctioned off after each expansion were actually some kind of black tech.

Someone had even specifically observed.

Not long after each auction, there would be some buzz in the industry or academia about a major breakthrough in some key technology.

After a while longer, when people came to their senses, many had already started using the fruits of those technological breakthroughs.

He still remembered not long after *Wasteland OL* had launched, when smartphones could barely last a day or two on a single charge; then, from some unknown day onward, major phone brands one after another rolled out models with ultra-long battery life lasting a week.

Next came the new energy vehicles, whose range suddenly doubled, and the market value of many battery and new energy car companies more than doubled as well.

Elf King Fugui scratched the back of his head: “You mean… silver coins can buy miner exoskeletons in real life?”

Irena made a helpless expression.

“I’m just giving an example, I didn’t say it has to be exoskeletons. It could be something more fundamental, with broader reach across industries—like technologies in energy, information, or materials.”

At that point, he couldn’t help cracking a joke.

“Maybe one day reality will turn into the ‘Age of Prosperity,’ where you work a couple of days when you feel like it, and when you don’t, you fire your boss and go mess around on the moon. Are you still worried that after the game’s open beta, no one will be working? For all you know, the Earth President might be begging you idle folks to go haul bricks in the game!”

Elf King Fugui: “Holy shit, the Age of Prosperity is a game setting, right? And what the hell is an Earth President?”

Irena rolled her eyes.

“That’s why I said ‘what if’—why don’t you have any imagination!”

Elf King Fugui frowned and thought for a moment.

“But if what you say is true, and there really is some black tech that lets everyone stop working, I feel like we’d have to solve nuclear fusion at the very least…”

The key was that these outrageous technologies didn’t exist on Earth.

They couldn’t just pop out of nowhere, could they?

Was it the *Wasteland OL* operator that researched them?

An organization that single-handedly advances the scientific and technological progress of an entire civilization—did such an awesome institution exist in the world?

No—

Wait.

Think about it carefully—the company running *Wasteland OL* really was pretty awesome.

Not to mention the fully immersive game helmet that lets you live a second life in your dreams, but the fact that no one even knows the company’s name to this day is already insane enough!

Sometimes Elf King Fugui even couldn’t help wondering if their dear Aguang had been abducted by aliens.

“…Whatever it is, that tech is definitely expensive, no doubt about it. Maybe that’s why silver coins are so pricey.”

Patting Old Wang on the shoulder, Irena teased and then continued.

“For a better tomorrow, for reality to enter the Age of Prosperity soon, for our Old Wang to buy a bionic maid in real life… let’s first figure out which ruin we’re raiding today?”

Compared to those distant matters, this was the more pressing issue.

For them, the “pro gamers,” hunting only earned enough for ammo; if they really wanted to get rich, they had to hit the pre-war ruins.

Hearing Old Na’s ribbing, Elf King Fugui snapped out of his daydreaming and grinned.

“Ah, that’s easy—we just wait a bit, and someone will hand out a quest.”

Irena was taken aback.

“Someone handing out a quest?”

“Yeah, I heard from Ye Shi that this time the scientific expedition will come with the *Niuma* and set up a branch here at Fries Port. I remember they set off the night before last—they should be arriving about now—”

Elf King Fugui looked up at the sky.

As luck would have it, before his words faded, two silver-white figures appeared in his sight, drifting one after another beneath the clouds.

His eyes lit up.

“Damn! They’re already here!”

And two ships at that?!

Irena pulled out his VM and glanced at it; the previously grayed-out [Scientific Expedition] sub-option in the quest interface had become selectable again.

He immediately tapped it open, and a striking “Regional Quest” caught his eye.

[Quest: Find the Mother Nest in Baiyue Province]

[Issuer: Alliance Institute of Biology]

[Description: Based on analysis of the original Naguo strain by the Alliance Institute of Biology, there are clues suggesting that a mother nest of mutant slime mold exists or once existed in Baiyue Province, and the abnormal biological evolution there may be related to this.]

[Requirement: Find it!]

[Reward: Providing any valuable clue yields phased quest rewards; the player or team that ultimately finds the mother nest unlocks the limited title “Jungle Conqueror” and receives a total of 10,000 contribution points and 1,000,000 silver coins!]

The moment he saw the reward column, Irena froze for a full half minute, until a shout came from beside him.

“Holy shit?! A million?!”

Having also opened the quest log at some point, Elf King Fugui stared wide-eyed at the long string of numbers on the VM screen.

Especially when he noticed that this quest stemmed from the Naguo strain sample they had collected earlier, his face twisted as if he were constipated.

“Fuck! That damn Fang Chang is such a cheat!”

He remembered correctly—that sample had only sold for ten thousand silver coins! After deducting equipment losses and splitting it ten ways, each person got a few hundred silver coins.

This was a goddamn loss of epic proportions!