Chapter 717: Completely Shaped into the Alliance's Mold

Chapter 717: Completely Becoming the Shape of the Alliance

"Time sure flies, huh..."

A row of awnings stood on the beach before the Yiren Tavern.

Gazing at the sea breeze blowing in her face and the sun tilting slightly westward, Ilena sat on a small stool by the sand, wiping the grease from a roasted lizard leg, her face etched with contentment and satisfaction.

Not far off, Elven King Fugui was chugging beer by the gallon, competing with the Jungle Corps brothers to see who could drink more... this agile-type weakling had never won a single round.

Behind the bar, the tavern owner had finally come to terms with his peculiar hobby, donning a maid outfit designed by Rattan Cottage alongside a group of beautiful Moon Tribe girls.

And surprisingly, the crowd that had been jeering, expecting an eyesore, found his cross-dressing unexpectedly good.

Especially last time, when a clueless sailor mistook the owner for the landlady and, with a few fierce-looking accomplices, staged a cliché hero-rescuing-damsel act—the joke had players drinking here laughing from the game all the way to the forums...

The war two thousand kilometers away and the war right next door seemed nonexistent; in the tranquil evening breeze, there was only a faint scent of the sea.

Old Na tossed the gnawed lizard bones to a stray cat that had wandered here with some ship, stretched, and stood up from the stool.

Elven King Fugui, already drunk and swaying before nightfall, belched, propped himself on the table, and called out to him.

"Going back so early?"

"Not early—almost time."

The words had barely left his mouth when the standing man tilted sideways, and Fugui caught him with an arm.

Watching the strength-type brutes burst into laughter, Ilena skillfully freed his right hand, cupped it in a fist, and said with a grin.

"I'm dragging this guy to the save point. You all keep going."

Voldi Laomo chuckled.

"Take it easy, Old Monk."

Black lines involuntarily appeared on his forehead. Ilena smiled and said.

"MMP, how many times do I have to say it? Can you change the nickname?"

At first, few responded.

But at that, a chorus of jeers erupted.

"Sure thing, Old Monk!"

"Take care, Old Monk!"

"Say hi to the Nun for me!"

"%￥#@!"

Rolling his eyes at these bastards, Old Na cursed under his breath, hoisted Old Wang on his shoulder, and headed toward the save point.

This had been the daily routine for days.

Take a quest to clear monsters in the woods, turn it in, drink on the beach, haul this guy back to the save point before dark, then go to the forums to shoot the breeze.

As steady as clockwork.

Life was so comfortable that, if he didn't think carefully, he wouldn't even notice that nearly two months had passed since the Burning Legion brothers set off for the Brahmin Province.

And in those two months, though his daily life hadn't changed much, Fry Port had undergone earth-shattering transformations.

The shantytown that once crowded the eastern part of the settlement had turned into rows of neatly arranged wooden houses with small courtyards.

The wooden racks hanging by the doors no longer held just dried fish, furs, or clothes; some were covered in green vines bearing colorful fruits and vegetables.

The Alliance Institute of Biology had expanded its local operations, not only gathering clues about the hive activity in the area but also cultivating high-yield crop seeds suited to the local environment.

Watermelons, grapes, tomatoes, and so on.

Many Moon Tribe girls gained an extra income: they could take a batch of seeds from Chen Yutong, plant them at home, regularly record growth data, and report to the institute for additional pay.

Of course, they also had to guard against seagulls or other birds stealing the crops.

The diligence of these new immigrants even shamed the strength-type brutes; players had never seen NPCs so competitive.

Though these NPCs lacked the players' robust physiques or the Coral City survivors' experience and knowledge, they had a talent for working three jobs at once.

Some energetic young girls worked at the fur factory during the day, then went to the bar as waitresses, washing dishes and serving drinks, while also tending experimental crops entrusted by the institute at home, and picking up odd jobs like laundry, trash collection, and oyster gathering in their spare time.

Although Alliance law strictly limited each employee's working hours, it didn't restrict how many jobs one person could hold.

Taking time to enjoy life seemed to give them a sense of guilt.

As the Coral City survivors put it, they wanted to finish a year's work in the first few months, then spend the rest doing next year's tasks.

But it was this very diligence, combined with the players' unconscious tendency to "nurture" rather than "exploit" as managers, that allowed these poor souls to achieve in just two months a life their Moon Tribe brethren in Brahmin Province couldn't even dream of.

Besides the residential area, other zones had changed significantly.

For instance, the sawmill and slaughterhouse that once cluttered the settlement's center had all been relocated to the beach where Imperial soldiers and aquatic mutants had landed.

That is, the new area west of Fry Port.

Ever since [Qingdeng Gujiu] and other life-skill players moved their workshops there, the air in Fry Port had become much fresher.

No more flying wood chips or animal fibers in the residential area, and the greasy, fishy smell on the beach had diminished considerably.

According to Fry Port's municipal planning, that cluster of small factories and workshops would become the settlement's "industrial zone."

Though Fry Port wasn't suited for heavy industry, it would be too extreme to say it had no industrial presence at all.

Considering raw material costs, product added value, transport losses, and facility maintenance, light industries like salt refineries, sugar mills, breweries, timber processing plants, and food processing facilities were viable here.

Processing rough logs into planks before shipping them to Golden Port for furniture-making was far more economical than shipping untreated logs in bulk.

The same applied to fruits, game, and fish.

Canned goods or other processed foods could be sold not only to Golden Port but also to any merchant ship passing through the Bayue Strait.

After the industrial zone was established, Fry Port's municipal government, following Dawn City's industrial management model, issued detailed regulations on production methods and hiring rules, and also arranged taxation.

With fiscal revenue and clear rights and obligations, the municipal government used tax revenue as collateral to borrow money from the distant Dawn City Bank, improving the new district's infrastructure.

For example, two concrete piers extending into deep water and a road connecting the industrial zone to Fry Port's core area were built by the Niu Ma Group using prefabricated steel, concrete panels, and cement from Golden Port.

Additionally, Niu Ma Group's airship brought prefabricated parts from Boulder City, assembling a small gantry crane on one of the industrial zone's cargo piers, along with a freight track from the pier to the port warehouse, greatly boosting cargo handling efficiency.

Here, one must praise the technical staff brought by the Dolphin and their "Crab-type" amphibious engineering armor, improved from Vault 100's achievements.

With this gear, the Niu Ma Group was like a tiger with wings; the pier seemed to grow visibly, extending forward.

From then on, Fry Port's cargo import-export channel, along with the relocated small factories and workshops, moved from the beach at the settlement's center to the industrial zone's beach.

To make commuting easier for locals, Fry Port's municipal government set up a transportation office, launching bus and passenger boat routes to the new district.

The five or six kilometers wasn't too far, and with the military base on the northwestern highlands monitoring the forest mutants and the fenced coastline, and the northern side of the coastal road already turned into fenced orchards, farms, and plantations, safety wasn't a major concern as long as one avoided night travel. So some bold Moon Tribe girls even chose to bike to work.

As for Fry Port's original wooden pier, as planned, it had become a paradise for anglers and tourists.

Besides the completed facilities, an ocean current power station on the seabed of the strait and a solid hydrogen storage facility onshore were still under construction.

However, these two facilities weren't handled by Niu Ma Group but were won by a new energy development company based in Dawn City.

Speaking of this company, it had some ties to the Archipelago Federation in the southern seas.

The company was called Guangwei Energy, founded less than two months ago, and its founder was Huang Guangwei—a survivor from the southern seas and a resident of Vault 70.

When he first arrived in Dawn City, he knocked out the former Vault 70 overseer with one punch, got sent to jail by the guards, and even made the front page of the Goblin Observer.

But that was all a long time ago.

Now Mr. Huang has fully adapted to life in the Alliance, and like the former Overseer of Vault 70, who once took a punch from him, he has chosen to contribute in his own way to the Alliance's cause of rebuilding the wasteland.

Objectively speaking, the reason Fries Harbor has developed so quickly is largely thanks to the help of these survivors from Vault 70 and Coral City.

For difficulties that players could only overcome with brute force and pre-21st-century experience, they offered more constructive solutions.

And some life-skill players working in related fields learned many things they had never seen before from these solutions.

Whether in engineering or sociology.

Over these two months of contact, both sides have benefited greatly.

Besides improvements in industry and infrastructure, the area where players live has also changed considerably.

The most typical example is probably the "Seaside Commercial Street" near the old dock.

Originally, there was only Yiren's Tavern for drinking, but now it's densely packed with many bars, inns, and various restaurants.

Some are run by life-skill players, others by merchants from Dawn City and Silver Moon Bay who see a bright future for Fries Harbor, and even some bosses from the Federation's Ring Island who came to invest.

Every dusk, the place is a riot of neon lights and revelry.

Not only do players returning from quests come here to drink and boast, but even nearby Federation fishermen and captains and sailors passing through these waters can't help but be drawn by those tantalizing legs, stopping by for a couple of ice-cold beers to quench their thirst.

Of course, not everyone kept their thoughts pure—some had ideas beyond food and beer.

But seeing the Alliance flag fluttering over Fries Harbor's town hall, most wastelanders kept their wits about them.

Merchants and sailors from Silver Moon Bay need not be mentioned—they've seen the Alliance's tough guys, especially recently when a unruly big guy got his head pounded in.

Some wastelanders from afar, intimidated by the sheer number of Awakened, were forced to suppress their restless evil thoughts.

In the lobby of an inn not far from Yiren's Tavern.

Watching a short skirt flash past the table, a sailor with bleary eyes couldn't help but sniff hard, looking drunkenly at his companion across the table.

"Are all the girls here from the Brahmin Province?"

"They used to be. I heard they're Moon Clan... from the land across the Baiyue Strait."

His companion was clearly also a pervert, and the kind who'd been pent up at sea for months.

From the moment they stepped into the inn, his eyes hadn't left the girls carrying trays.

The black pencil skirts perfectly outlined their graceful figures, and the black stockings were the finishing touch, not only hiding leg flaws but making those shapely long legs look even longer.

To be fair, those Blue Rats really knew their aesthetics—no wonder even the misers of Ideal City and the bookworms of the Academy couldn't get enough of Dawn City's designs.

Even these wastelanders, who had no interest in the Golden Age, occasionally dreamed of that bygone era.

"From Brahmin Province... I thought they were from Silver Moon Bay."

"Perfectly normal. Whether Luoxia Province or Brahmin Province, they're all descendants of those who fled the Great Wasteland two hundred years ago."

"This... I've never heard that before," the sailor muttered, reaching back to rub his bald head.

He had been to Brahmin Province, including the famous Golden Ganga Port, but the girls here felt completely different from those there.

In complexion, in spirit.

His companion across the table belched and said drunkenly,

"Belch... I've never heard it either, but if those Vault dwellers say so, it must be true."

"After all, no one knows more about what happened two hundred years ago than they do."

Night was falling.

A group of sailors, carrying unfinished bottles, trudged listlessly toward the dock, their noisy voices audible even on decks hundreds of meters away.

Though they could spend the night on the inn's second floor like their boss, their boss wouldn't pay their room bills.

To save that money for a few more drinks at the next port, they'd rather go back to the ship and sleep on moldy pillows for the night.

But just as everyone headed for the dock, a conspicuous group moved against the crowd, from the dock onto the shore.

"Wow! Fries Harbor has changed so much!"

"Yeah, it's completely different from when we last docked here..."

A person and a bear were stacked together, craning their necks to look toward the settlement, one small and one large pair of eyes shining with excitement.

The surrounding sailors barely reacted to this odd pair, not even finding it strange that the bear could talk.

After all, if their manager could tame a Deathclaw at the top of the food chain, it was no surprise his residents could tame a polar bear.

The group reached the shore and searched a while before finding Yiren's Tavern hidden among a row of bars.

Greeting the girl cleaning up at the entrance, Tail flipped off Rourou's shoulder and scurried to the bar counter.

Seeing the familiar group, Yiren's face showed surprise.

"Awei? Rourou?"

"Oh... oh! Good evening!" Rourou grinned and waved a paw, too embarrassed to say she'd come specifically to see Boss Yiren in drag after seeing a forum post.

Awei beside her was bolder, leaning in to stare for a long time until the latter blushed, then nodded with satisfaction, stroking her chin.

"Not bad, not bad... perfect enough to charge extra."

Zhima Hu, with cat ears bobbing on her head, smiled encouragingly.

"It suits you well."

"Ahaha... haha..."

Yiren let out a dry, awkward laugh, twirling a strand of fake hair at her temple.

Though she'd tried something she'd never dare in real life, egged on by a bunch of jerks, she still wasn't used to receiving compliments.

"Congratulations, congratulations," said Sisi, following the two and the bear into the tavern, patting this comrade on the shoulder. "Being true to your hobbies is a good thing—nothing to be ashamed of. Don't mind what others think."

Pausing, a mischievous smile curled at the corner of her mouth, and she added, "By the way, do you need—"

Before she could finish, Yiren broke out in a cold sweat.

"No, no need."

Just then, the Moon Clan girls busy in the tavern's kitchen noticed Tail's group and put down their work to gather around.

Though they'd left their homeland some time ago, many still worried about their compatriots there, especially those with family still behind.

Eyes full of hope surrounded the group, along with maid outfits they hadn't had time to change out of.

"Um... how is Golden Ganga Port now?"

"I heard you took down Rower Camp too? Really?!"

"Any news of the people who fled the port with us?"

"My husband... is he still alive?"

Before Awei could even exclaim, "Is this heaven?" she was bombarded by a barrage of questions.

"Giao... too many questions, I can't answer them all."

Seeing her troubled expression, the crowd around finally quieted down, but the hope and anxiety in their eyes remained unchanged.

Glancing at Sisi beside him, Tail pressed a fist to his lips, cleared his throat, and adopted a reliable tone.

"Ahem! First off, the slaves at Rowell Camp have been freed—and not just Rowell Camp, but all the slaves in the entire port of Jingalga have been liberated!"

At these words, nearly everyone's face lit up with surprise and joy. Two girls who seemed to be sisters even hugged each other, weeping tears of happiness.

It seemed there were relatives of theirs in that camp.

After all, most of those imprisoned there were Moon Clan folk.

Tail paused, then continued.

"...For now, the Empire's forces have retreated beyond the ceasefire line. The Burning Corps is helping the local survivors set up a new administration and rebuild a more equal, harmonious new order. The locals are cooperating, and the settlement is bustling with construction sites everywhere."

"In short, the changes there are enormous. Even Meatball and Sesame Paste were stunned when they first saw it—they thought Sisi had misread the map! From what I've observed, its future development might not be worse than Fries Port. I took a look for you first; once things stabilize, you can go back and see for yourselves."

Hearing that their homeland was gradually improving, everyone's eyes shone with hope.

But at the last sentence, many faces clearly showed a flicker of hesitation.

Perhaps the experiences of that time had left too deep a scar on their hearts, or perhaps they were sensitive as outsiders about identity.

Even though they worked hard to repay the kindness of the people here, the goodness and grace—like something out of a fairy tale—still felt to many like a dream on the verge of waking. Maybe when they opened their eyes, they'd still be on that cramped, damp ship, and the wasteland would still be the wasteland... Even the ship that took them from the Brahmin Province was a gift from the gods.

They feared that if they went back, they might never return, and even more, they feared that those who had pulled them from hell might send them back there...

Sensing something from those eyes full of inferiority and reluctance, Tail quietly added a line.

"...Of course, of course, I never said you had to go back and not come again. This is your new home now, and no one will drive you away."

A Moon Clan girl suddenly stepped forward, hugged her, closed her eyes, and whispered sincerely in her ear.

"Thank you."

"No, you're welcome. Though it's a bit odd to say this now... You don't need to thank me specifically. If you must thank someone, thank the others. I'm just here for the fun." Tail's face flushed involuntarily, and she scratched the back of her head, rare embarrassment showing.

The girl released her shoulders, stepped back lightly, shook her head gently, and offered a soft smile.

"...Thank you for caring about how we feel."

She paused, then looked out the window at the moonlight hanging in the night sky, as if gazing at a reflection of her homeland in a silver plate.

"The people there are finally living normal lives... Knowing they're doing well is enough for me."

Just then, the pleasant chime of wind chimes at the door interrupted the homesickness lingering in the tavern.

A burly man in an exoskeleton walked in, his cybernetic limbs scraping against the doorframe with a clatter.

Seeing the man at the door, Tail greeted him cheerfully.

"Oh! Bro Chicken! What a coincidence, you guys aren't offline yet?"

Midnight Chicken Kill grinned sheepishly.

"We just came online. I heard you'd arrived, and since I didn't see you on the forum, I figured you were still online. Sure enough, you're here."

Shifting her gaze from the girl who had suddenly hugged Tail, Sisi looked curiously at Brother Chicken and asked.

"Is something up?"

Midnight Chicken Kill said shyly.

"I wanted to rent your ship. We're planning to head to Ring Island's port tomorrow. I was wondering if it's convenient for you."

Hearing they were going to Ring Island, Tail immediately guessed what it was about and said excitedly.

"Oh! No problem! By the way, is the water pipeline about to go through?"

Midnight Chicken Kill nodded with a smile.

"Yeah! It's finally happening!"

The two-month construction period was over. Yesterday, they had tested the pressure valves and all components, confirming everything was fine.

Once the undersea freshwater pipeline officially started flowing, the Alliance's influence on Ring Island would leave the Torch Church far behind.

It proved that in uniting "normal people," builders of order were far more effective than destroyers of order.

Sooner or later, all survivor settlements in the southern seas would take the Alliance's shape.

He paused, then continued.

"And it's not just freshwater. After seeing our construction speed, they're planning to invest in a new ocean current power station and an undersea power cable here. They'll provide the necessary technical support. Brother Fang said we might as well take this chance to issue a friendly statement—take our gear for a spin around the island and come back. The other side agreed."

Sisi mused thoughtfully.

"Looks like burning coal is still a bit tough for them."

"After all, aside from those Torch lunatics, who would refuse a better life? And... lately, the islands have been grumbling about the Federation's decision on whether to end the state of war. They might want to take this chance to find an ally." Midnight Chicken Kill chuckled. "We initially planned to take an airship, but on second thought, a ship seems friendlier."

Uncrossing her arms, Sisi smiled and nodded.

"No problem. Leave it to us."