Chapter 718: Water!

Chapter 718: Water!

[From today onward, the undersea freshwater pipeline is officially operational, and the water tanks on the island have been refilled. According to the water supply agreement signed between the Ring Island Governor's Office and the Fries Harbor City Hall, the import price of freshwater is only 0.8 silver coins per ton! The cost of domestic and industrial water on Ring Island will return to pre-ocean-current power station destruction levels, with no monthly usage cap.]

[The Survivor's Daily, Baiyue Strait Branch, reporting!]

Recently, the Survivor's Daily opened a branch in Fries Harbor as well, though the office is modest—a small wooden cabin of twenty or thirty square meters.

The branch chief is a young woman of the Moon Clan named Misa, who was a teacher before the Xilan Dynasty's purge of the Moon Clan.

After learning about the Survivor's Daily, she decided to set up a branch in Fries Harbor to report local news and events, promote cultural exchange among various peoples, and incidentally help her Moon Clan compatriots improve their literacy.

Some things don't necessarily have to wait until literacy rates rise to be done; rather, it's precisely by doing such things that people gain an extra motivation to actively seek knowledge.

As for the entry criteria for the Survivor's Daily, they are quite lenient. As long as one swears to speak from the standpoint of all survivors, they can gain recognition from other branches and the Dawn City headquarters—no need for a rubber stamp personally authorized by the Administrator to be considered "orthodox."

Of course, if one day a branch no longer stands with the survivors, the Dawn City headquarters and other branches will issue a statement expelling it from the ranks, ceasing to reprint or cite any news from that outlet—this serves as an exit mechanism.

From a profit or propaganda perspective, such management and exit mechanisms are certainly problematic. But as the Administrator put it, the Alliance doesn't have just this one newspaper.

If one day all Survivor's papers withdraw, leaving only the one in Dawn City, it will mean its historical mission is over, time for it to retire to a museum, and by then people will naturally find something new to carry on.

Since Fries Harbor lacks paper mills and printing presses, the Survivor's Daily·Baiyue Strait Branch is temporarily printed by the printing plant on Ring Island. Fishermen, sailors, and dockworkers who frequently travel between Fries Harbor and Ring Island occasionally bring the newspaper back from the shore to the island.

Thus, even though the Survivor's Daily isn't sold on Ring Island, traces of it can still be seen at the docks.

"0.8 silver coins?! Damn it, they're selling it to us for 1 silver coin!"

Staring at the newspaper in his hand, which seemed to be dripping with water, the repairman on the dock widened his eyes and couldn't help cursing.

Due to frequent trips ashore, Ring Island residents were no strangers to silver coins and could easily convert the price into what they had in their pockets.

"After all, the folks running the water tanks and taps need to make a bit too," said the middle-aged man squatting beside him, grinning. "You expect them to work on an empty stomach?"

"I'm not saying they can't make a profit—the problem is it's too easy!" The repairman shook his head, folded the newspaper, and stuffed it back where he'd found it.

It was almost time to start work.

Recently, a sudden influx of orders from Fries Harbor and Golden Harbor had revived the factories and docks on Ring Island.

To boost loading efficiency, the Harbor Office even reinstalled the rusty gantry cranes from the warehouse, sending some of the young men who'd been hauling boxes on the dock back to the factories.

And the old skilled workers like him, who'd lost their jobs along with the large ocean-current power station, finally had work again.

To be honest, if there were no jobs left on Ring Island, they'd been planning to try their luck in Fries Harbor.

Word had it they were upgrading port automation there too, with decent pay—the only risk being safety.

The middle-aged man beside him chuckled, tossed a towel over his shoulder, and stood up alongside the repairman.

"Anyway, even at 1 silver coin, it's way cheaper than before! And no water limit... The days of showering once a day are finally back."

This was the tropics.

Going a day without a bath was unbearable, especially for dock work.

Not long after the two middle-aged men left, a group of idle young men wandered over from the settlement and squatted in the same spot.

Not everyone had found work in the factories. Though the docks no longer needed them, they still habitually came here to hang around.

After all, many of their friends still worked here, and occasionally interesting ships passed by.

Since they were on relief and not desperate for a living, they might as well loaf somewhere interesting.

"Hey! There's something here!"

A sharp-eyed young man quickly spotted the newspaper stuffed under the ladder, yanked it out, unfolded it, and waved it triumphantly at his buddies.

"Look what I found! A newspaper the sailors brought back!"

Hearing the excited shout, the young men who'd just squatted in the shade stood up and gathered around with interest.

"The latest Survivor's Daily, from Fries Harbor! Let's see what it says... Whoa, the undersea freshwater pipeline is officially operational!"

"No kidding?!"

"No wonder my mom said the water bill dropped yesterday... So that's what's going on!"

"Pfft, I knew that yesterday."

"I heard the pipeline goes through a minefield... Won't it affect the ongoing war?"

"War? You almost made me forget about that."

"This war's been going on for so long, I haven't seen a single person from Vault 70."

The young men crowded around the newspaper, chattering about the news. The topic quickly shifted from the newly operational undersea pipeline to a bar ad on page three.

That page had the densest color illustrations in the whole paper—nothing too racy, but for these restless young men, it was as irresistible as tobacco and alcohol to old-timers.

But not everyone was interested in those shallow ad illustrations. For instance, Suni, sitting there, was thinking about other things.

A few months ago, he'd worked at the Ring Island cannery producing herring. Then a series of events forced the closure of the canning line and the automated loading equipment at the port. At the Governor's Office's call, he'd gone to the docks for odd jobs.

Now that Ring Island's trade had recovered, the port's automated equipment and factory lines were no longer a loss, and the Governor's Office wanted them back in the factories.

He felt like a convenient machine, being led around by the nose.

It wasn't that he was being overly sentimental.

At seventeen or eighteen, it was an age prone to wild thoughts. If not wasting time on pretty girls, one could only ponder "where we come from and where we're going."

When he saw the news about the completion of the undersea freshwater pipeline in the newspaper, he was deeply moved. Especially when he learned that survivors from Coral City had helped design it—that made his feelings even stronger.

How wonderful.

While the people of Ring Island were busy with that baffling war and being led around by the nose over inexplicable things, those who'd been worst off had already recovered from the disaster months ago and started new lives.

He wanted to live meaningfully too...

Finally making up his mind, he suddenly lifted his head without warning and looked at the guys gathered around the newspaper.

"I want to go to Golden Harbor."

The chatter of the young men discussing the news fell silent. For a moment, only the seagulls' cooing could be heard at the dock.

A chubby young man with a sunburned red face stared at him for a long time, confirming the expression wasn't a joke, and widened his round eyes.

"Are you out of your mind?!"

Golden Harbor?!

It wasn't just a few words different from their neighboring Fries Harbor—it was on another continent over two thousand kilometers away!

A wasteland even more desolate than Haiya Province!

No unemployment benefits, no insurance, not even basic safety, and still practicing the oldest, most primitive form of slavery in human history.

In a place like that, killing someone was as common as gutting a fish.

The exclamation broke the silence. Seeing his friends staring at him like he was crazy, Suni quickly explained.

"Wait, don't laugh at me yet... Remember that ship from before?"

A sturdy young man with freckles was taken aback.

"You mean those legs—wait, aren't they in Fries Harbor?"

Months ago, when the cargo ship from Golden Harbor docked, the graceful figures on the deck had lodged themselves in the dreams of many adolescent boys.

They were sitting on the dock drinking beer, even in the very same seats.

As soon as they heard "that ship," everyone instantly knew which one he meant.

"But Golden Gallon Port has more—cough, I mean, huge changes are happening all over the wasteland, people out there are moving for a better life, and here I am wasting time!" Suni coughed hard, his face serious as he looked at his companions staring at him. "Don't you think this is a waste?"

They exchanged bewildered glances, then turned back to him, even more convinced that something was wrong with his head.

"What's wrong with it?"

"Watching their jokes from here isn't bad either."

"I agree," the chubby kid with a sunburned face nodded too. "Just watch the wasteland stuff from afar; if I actually went... I'm afraid I'd end up as soup."

"It's hard to explain to you," Suni sighed in frustration, giving up and looking toward the harbor. "I learned so much knowledge, not to move boxes at the port or stack cans on an assembly line. Those jobs could be done by machines... Let me put it bluntly: they don't need me here, but I feel they might need me there."

His companions exchanged another glance; this time they seemed to understand.

Good grief.

So this guy wanted to go play the wise man among the wasteland natives.

And maybe trick a few pretty girls while he was at it.

"Well... what kind of job do you want to do there?"

The freckle-faced one, still wanting to talk this dreamer out of it, stared seriously into his eyes, but didn't expect that he had already figured out what he'd do after arriving.

"Teacher." Without avoiding the questioning gaze, Suni answered without hesitation.

They were all stunned again.

"Teacher?!"

"What can you teach them?"

"You can't even find a job yourself!"

"Language, arithmetic, even physics and chemistry—everything taught in school," Suni counted on his fingers, looking at them. "Knowledge that's useless in factories might be useful there. I hear many there haven't even learned to cook with fire. Besides, the newspaper said they need teachers there, and anyone literate will do. The Alliance... those friends north of the strait, they plan to set up schools in Golden Gallon Port to teach literacy, and the salary is paid in silver coins! A month could be a thousand or two!"

They exchanged glances again, surprised he had planned so long, even knowing the salary.

Realizing his friend was serious, the freckle-faced one said nothing more, just reached out and gripped his shoulder.

"I won't talk you out of it, but that's the wasteland. Make sure you think it through before boarding."

Seeing someone finally understood him, Suni relaxed and smiled.

"I'll discuss it with my family."

Just then, a steam whistle sounded from the harbor, and a massive cargo ship slowly approached the dock.

The group of young men sitting on the steps instinctively looked up, their faces showing surprise.

"The Meat Meat?"

"Are those people back?"

Also gazing toward the dock, Suni's eyes lit up, his dark pupils filled with the glow of sunset.

What a coincidence.

Just as he made up his mind to step onto the wasteland, the sea breeze that brought dreams blew again into this lonely port.

Maybe it was fate...

...

"Welcome! Friends from Fries Port! Friends from the Alliance!"

At the dock of Ring Island Port.

Governor Channing, surrounded by a line of soldiers in exoskeletons, walked up to Midnight Chicken Slayer with a smile.

But after seeing the Jungle Corps commander's appearance, his smile barely held.

The guy was covered in cybernetic implants—not only was a huge chainsaw and gun barrel welded to his arm, but his entire body had been replaced with steel.

Others wore exoskeletons; this guy seemed to have moved his head to a new home.

With so many implants, wouldn't his brain go bad?

Not knowing what this NPC was thinking, Midnight Chicken Slayer grinned sheepishly and extended his right hand to the governor.

"Glad to deepen our cooperation! Our manager sends his regards!"

Shaking his hand briefly, Channing let go and continued with a bright smile.

"Same here, glad to cooperate! Also, allow me to take back my earlier words... I didn't expect you to actually gain a foothold in that incredible land. We tried many times over the past century and failed."

That was his honest opinion.

If two months ago he was more worried and cautious about the Alliance's arrival, now he could only say it was wonderful.

The water supply agreement brought far more than just millions of tons of fresh water to Ring Island; the currency swap clause attached to it had restarted nearly half the factories on the island that had shut down due to war!

Especially recently, with Fries Port and Golden Gallon Port both undergoing massive construction, a huge market was opening to all Alliance allies.

The profits from exporting industrial products and equipment not only eased the fiscal pressure on Ring Island's authorities from unemployment subsidies and war taxes, but also turned the subsidized coal-fired power plants profitable because silver-priced coal was cheaper!

If those blue-coated guys on shore could solve the electricity problem too, that would be even better.

Of course, he had already settled that matter with the CEO of Baiyue Company.

Soon a submarine high-voltage cable would climb onto the island along the water pipe, and then they could shut down the coal plant and use silver coins for more things.

As for the Heavenly Ship and the hive at the bottom of the sea, while solving them would be best, even if they couldn't, life would go on.

Besides, River Valley Province already had a successful case of solving the hive problem.

They didn't necessarily have to use the Torch Church's methods...

...

After shaking hands with Governor Channing, Midnight Chicken Slayer followed him to the square where the port met the dock.

There stood a marble fountain, with a hammer symbolizing order at its center.

The fountain's statue was completed in Dawn City, shipped by cargo airship to Fries Port, then transferred by cargo ship here.

As a blessing for the submarine water pipeline's operation and a symbol of friendship, the Alliance gifted this "Never-Stopping Fountain" to the local survivors.

Connected to the fountain was the submarine freshwater pipeline; as long as fresh water from Fries Port still flowed to the island, the fountain's pool would never dry.

At the same time the two stepped onto the port, the two hundred players from the Jungle Corps assembled on the deck followed them onto Ring Island's dock.

Their polished "K10" Iron Wall exoskeletons gleamed in the sunlight, radiating a thrilling brilliance, like walking suns on land.

The dock was packed with onlookers, and the dense grid of buildings along the island's coast pushed open their windows.

Young men and women, old and young, all cast curious glances at the orderly, well-equipped troops.

Even some operators in crane cabins stopped their work to look over.

It was their first time seeing a land army, and their first time seeing so many combat exoskeletons with such thick armor.

Though the Federation's navy also had exoskeletons, most were for underwater work; only a few sailors had combat exoskeletons with ballistic inserts.

But even those designed for close-quarters combat looked like tiny toothpicks next to these walking tanks.

The scratches on the paintwork were like medals—these hardened men were true warriors who had walked off countless battlefields, having endured innumerable wars!

Involuntarily, a hint of admiration and reverence crept into the onlookers' eyes, for these men were marching from the very direction they themselves had once fled.

Yet, even with such boast-worthy credentials, these "iron men" did not flaunt their might with fanfare.

They carried no weapons, nor did their footsteps thunder; they simply bore the alliance's emblem and jungle-green paint, marching forward in unison.

More than the chilling aura of slaughter, the survivors gathered at the port felt a sense of safety and reliability.

No one doubted that they came with peaceful intentions!

The players of the Jungle Corps halted at the entrance to the dock, stopping in a row before the fountain, advancing no further.

It wasn't just the residents of Ring Island watching this army; Channin, too, sized up this steel-clad force of tigers and wolves, secretly admiring them in his heart.

No wonder that empire was no match for them.

These men likely hadn't even used their full strength in the counterattack.

But—

Channin's gaze fell on the shabby cargo ship behind these soldiers, and he sighed softly to himself.

What a pity.

Their strength on land was formidable, but their power at sea remained a weak point, clearly insufficient to rival the Southern Islands Federation's navy.

He made this comparison not out of disloyalty or a desire to split off with the locals, but simply wishing this great tree could grow taller and stronger.

That way, Ring Island's strategic value within the Federation might rise accordingly.

What he feared was that these people might be a potential threat to the Federation, yet not threatening enough...

Still, though Channin felt a slight disappointment, he did not let that trivial concern show on his face.

He was a man easily content.

All in all, he was quite satisfied with this ally.

As the Jungle Corps landed, the band onshore struck up welcoming music, and the ceremony entered its pivotal phase.

Looking at the alliance's legion commander standing beside him, Channin smiled and performed a standard Federation salute, speaking solemnly.

"May our friendship endure!"

Midnight Chicken Killer pressed his right fist to his chest and rumbled in reply.

"May our friendship endure!"

Witnessing this historic moment, the crowd gathered at the port erupted in applause, whistles, and excited cheers.

Workers in the square tossed pre-prepared ribbons and fireworks into the air, and the band's music pushed the atmosphere to a climax.

The port was filled with jubilation and celebration, as lively as a festival.

At that same moment, the warhammer atop the fountain spouted water, and a faint rainbow fell with the drizzling spray.

All eyes converged on that rainbow, faces glowing with excitement and anticipation.

The days of water shortage were finally over!

And tomorrow would be better!

Channin and the port officials clapped with smiles, their lingering worries and fears falling away with the gushing water.

But just then, a piercing alarm suddenly wailed over the port.

The festive mood and music ceased like a punctured balloon; the band's wind players and drummers stopped mid-motion, staring bewildered toward the source of the alarm.

The survivors gathered at the port were equally stunned, faces showing panic and confusion as they craned their necks, looking around, unsure what was happening.

Ordinarily, the alarm would only sound when a Vault 70 vessel attacked fishing boats, cargo ships, or underwater facilities in nearby waters.

But this was Ring Island, on the southern sea frontier; except for drills and special circumstances, the alarm here had not rung for a long time.

So much so that most people had forgotten they were still at war.

Governor Channin was equally baffled, staring blankly in the direction of the alarm, unable to make sense of it.

While everyone panicked, only the players standing by the fountain showed eager expressions.

Well, well.

Was this a job opportunity?!

The cutscene had been over for a while; they didn't want newbies and cloud players to think they were NPCs by the time the new map's promotional video came out.

Every player was itching for action, eager to grab their weapons from the deck.

They couldn't wait to show these inexperienced folks a thing or two!

Just then, a port office worker rushed over, breathlessly whispering into Channin's ear.

Channin paused, then his expression changed instantly. He turned to the alliance legion commander beside him and said gravely,

"Our patrol near the minefield detected an explosion signal... That area seems to be where the water pipeline passes."

He paused, then continued.

"We suspect a Vault 70 vessel may have attacked that location."

As he spoke, his gaze involuntarily flicked to the fountain, but the water showed no sign of stopping.

Water still gushed forth endlessly, seemingly unaffected.

Seeing Governor Channin's tense, alarmed look, Midnight Chicken Killer laughed heartily and said,

"No need to worry, it's a minor issue."

Channin was taken aback, wondering if he'd misheard, and repeated,

"A minor issue?"

Midnight Chicken Killer nodded, grinning sheepishly as he explained,

"We anticipated this situation two months ago. By the time you're making a fuss, the problem might already be solved."

He paused, glanced at the stunned worker, subtly pointed toward the band, and whispered,

"Could you please turn off the alarm and let them keep playing..."

"We're recording a video."

Channin: "...?"

Worker: "???"