Chapter 759: The New Wind Blowing Toward the Wasteland

Chapter 759: The New Wind Blowing Toward the Wasteland

The biting wind and snow howled across the boundless tundra, as a fluffy lemming poked its head out of a snowdrift, only to be frightened back inside by the rumbling sound.

A train consisting of only four carriages was making its way across the snowy ground.

This train had no tracks; in their place were treads beneath the chassis. Carriages were connected to one another by hooks and locks, and while each carriage seemed to possess its own independent propulsion system, it also appeared as though all the power was being supplied by the leading vehicle.

Sitting by the window, Night Ten gazed fixedly at the shockingly vast tundra outside, his eyes filled with an indescribable astonishment.

This damn planner actually has some skills.

Even though the number of players active in the Wandering Swamp hadn't even reached three digits, the operator of *Wasteland OL* had still gone ahead and rendered this part of the map.

The hail pelting against the window, the powdered snow kicked up by the treads, the reindeer traversing the tundra...

Everything was so incredibly lifelike.

Sitting across from him, Jiang Xuezhou misinterpreted the look of wonder on his face, the corners of her lips curving up into a gentle smile as she spoke.

"It's huge, isn't it?"

"It really is quite huge..." Night Ten nodded, adding with a touch of emotion, "It's just a bit deserted."

What he found hardest to understand was why the Academy, despite possessing the most advanced technology on the wasteland, left such a massive expanse of land undeveloped.

If the prosperity of Ideal City was actually somewhat "inflated"—with its colorful lights and shadow plays, and the information-packed Endpoint Cloud giving people the illusion of rapid technological leaps—the Academy's technology truly had reached a level that commanded awe.

As the only survivor faction on the wasteland capable of producing anti-gravity devices without relying on black boxes, and possessing the technology to manufacture faster-than-light engines, they actually had the hope of establishing a true utopia on this wasteland.

This shouldn't be any harder than going out into the universe to find another habitable planet to start over.

At least, that was how it seemed to him, someone who was still a student.

Jiang Xuezhou tilted her head, not quite understanding what he meant by "deserted."

Right at that moment, a researcher sitting at the adjacent table chimed in with a smile.

"That's only natural. This is the northernmost edge of the Central Continent, after all. It's already a limit for this fragile ecosystem to support the current population; things are fine just as they are now. In fact, if the population grew, things would only become troublesome."

Night Ten looked at him in puzzlement.

"If the population grew, things would become troublesome?"

"After all, the tickets are fixed," another traveling researcher said succinctly, flipping through a paper on his tablet. "A 'ship' capable of holding everyone has never existed, and the covenant we signed with the survivors never included such a clause."

Night Ten asked, "Covenant?"

"That was a century and a half ago. To escape persecution from the Legion and the Enterprise, we left the Great Fissure. Some survivors, who had lost their livelihoods due to the collapse of the Post-War Reconstruction Committee, followed our footsteps and found us, hoping we would take them in. That was how the Science Committee came to be."

The researcher paused, turning his gaze out the window, and continued in a tone devoid of much fluctuation.

"According to the promise, we would provide the nutrition necessary for their survival, and they agreed to voluntarily renounce all political rights, join our project, and obey our management. We have already provided them with the treatment promised, and have even rewarded those who comply with management... and the latter was their promised obligation to begin with. Do we have any reason whatsoever to raise their standard of living?"

Night Ten looked at him in astonishment. "Holy cow, you guys are more capitalist than capitalists."

The researcher froze for a moment, looking at him with a peculiar expression.

"I don't know what that thing you mentioned is, but at least we didn't deceive them. From the very beginning, we made it clear to them that the Academy is not a charity, nor is it a nation; it is merely a research organization. Our ultimate goal is to complete our Ark, and once it is completed, we will leave. We have never begged them to live on our territory. Or do you think that painting an unreachable pie in the sky for the wastelanders, like the Enterprise does, is the more correct approach?"

These words seemed to carry some grain of truth.

For a moment, Night Ten couldn't think of a way to refute it, especially since he suddenly realized this was their own internal business, and it wasn't an outsider's place like him to criticize.

However, just as he intended to drop the subject, to his surprise, Jiang Xuezhou, who had always maintained the image of a well-behaved girl, suddenly spoke up.

"Didn't you also pass the exam to get into the Academy?"

The researcher glanced at her and said calmly.

"Yes, so what."

Jiang Xuezhou couldn't help but say.

"You used to be one of them too. Why do you talk about them as if they're slaves..."

"First, to correct your phrasing, I never said they were slaves," the man said, returning his gaze to his tablet with a detached expression. "And second, to answer your question, you said it yourself—used to be."

Having said his piece, he didn't want to make enemies over such a pointless verbal dispute.

This was a train departing from Ice Sea City, and the passenger traveling with her still wore the vault resident's signature VM on his arm; he might very well be a foreign guest invited by the Slime Communist Community project.

If that were the case, her mentor's background was likely far from ordinary.

Jiang Xuezhou stared at him with wide eyes, an expression of disbelief on her face, temporarily at a loss for words.

"My bad, I should apologize," Night Ten coughed lightly, standing up from his seat in an attempt to ease the atmosphere in the carriage. "Actually... our vault is the same. A vault that can fit everyone inside cannot possibly exist, so some people get to go in, some don't, some enjoy comfort early on, and some suffer early on. For the greater goal, there will always be those who must make sacrifices... this is reality, and the most helpless reality at that."

A faint smile curled at the corner of the tablet-browsing researcher's mouth, but Jiang Xuezhou looked at Night Ten in disbelief, as if unable to trust that he would say such a thing.

The latter didn't look at her, merely shrugging his shoulders as he continued.

"It's just that we really can't bring ourselves to stomp those who couldn't get in under our feet just because we were lucky enough to be born in a vault. Our knowledge, technology, methods, and the black boxes—everything—should rightfully belong to 'all of us' from that era. Signing an unequal covenant with a small handful of poor wretches, enjoying the legacy left behind by 'us' while refusing to fulfill the obligations of 'us,' is something I truly cannot comprehend... Being a coward can be blamed on the helplessness of reality, but is that something to beat one's chest and feel proud about?"

The brow of the researcher browsing the paper twitched violently, and he chose to meet these words with silence.

The astonishment on Jiang Xuezhou's face turned into delight, followed by a victorious smile, as if to say she indeed hadn't misjudged him.

Whispers broke out in the carriage as some people looked over to see what the braggart looked like, while others curled their lips in disdain, completely uninterested in the wisdom of mortals.

Of course, there were also those who wore contemplative expressions, genuinely pondering the rationality of this argument.

In the Academy, the voice of reason was relatively welcome, especially logic-bound rationality.

This was also the greatest difference between the Academy and other regions; if it were merely an emotional outburst, hardly anyone would pay attention.

However, Night Ten, the instigator, suddenly felt a bit of regret.

His original intention had actually been to apologize and mind his own business. Yet his tongue had slipped, and the more he spoke, the further off-course he went, unable to resist throwing in a sarcastic jab.

Old Brother Fang Chang was right; his habit of talking too much really needed to be fixed.

They were here to make friends, not to offend people.

"Thank you."

Looking at Night Ten as he sat back down, Jiang Xuezhou said in a low voice, her face flushing slightly.

"Ah, what's there to thank me for," Night Ten said casually, not quite figuring out how he had actually helped her.

Although she was thrilled that he had spoken the words she wanted to say but didn't dare to, Jiang Xuezhou soon seemed to think of something, suddenly becoming anxious about potential losses, and whispered.

"By the way... you came here using that electronic pass. If you talk recklessly like that, your manager won't blame you, right?"

Every researcher sitting in this carriage was equipped with bionic cybernetics; taking a photo or recording a video was just a thought away.

She worried that if word got out, it might cause some diplomatic dispute, such as a vault resident of the Alliance publicly criticizing the Academy's policies and the management methods of the Science Committee.

Night Ten froze for a moment, then smiled and said.

"Ah? That won't happen. Our manager isn't that narrow-minded."

Unlike the damn planner.

Banning someone for posting lewd pictures was one thing, but claiming that a completely non-lewd emoji cropped from a manga was a violation too.

That was honestly going a bit too far!

As they spoke, a faint, flickering sign of human habitation appeared amidst the boundless wilderness outside the window.

That was an oil well.

The "old-fashioned and world-weary" design style made Night Ten momentarily feel as if he had returned to the real Earth.

And upon seeing that oil well, Jiang Xuezhou's expression suddenly brightened.

"We're here!"

Just as her words fell, the sound of an arrival announcement echoed through the carriage.

"Arriving at Plot 721. Passengers alighting at this station, please disembark promptly."

Night Ten was about to help her with her luggage when he saw the suitcase slide down from the rack by itself, its wheels whirring as it rolled to the carriage door.

"What are you standing there like a fool for? We need to go." Watching Night Ten frozen beside the seat, Jiang Xuezhou urged him eagerly.

She hadn't seen her family in a long time. Others might feel nervous approaching home, but she was filled with anticipation.

"Ah... right."

Night Ten looked at her suitcase with envy, following behind her.

High tech was truly wonderful!

For a college student who often took the high-speed rail home, this gadget was far more appealing than any nuclear fusion...

The group stood in the buffer chamber. As the outer door opened, a gust of wind and snow swept in.

Even though he wore a cold-weather coat and was covered in high-tech gear, Night Ten still felt the biting cold rush over him.

This was a remote corner of the Wandering Swamp, where the settlement known as "Plot 721" was located.

According to Jiang Xuezhou, the local survivors' task was to extract oil beneath the permafrost in the constant minus-twenty-degree weather, supplying raw materials for an industrial zone fifty kilometers away.

Regularly, tracked vehicles would come to haul away the fuel and bring the necessary supplies for the locals.

Though the Age of Prosperity had found various biological or chemical methods to synthesize petroleum analogs, from a localized perspective, this diesel-engine-driven drilling platform was better suited to the environment of the Wandering Swamp and the unique structure of the Science Committee.

Advanced production methods weren't always the best.

What the Science Committee needed to ensure was that the colonial ship heading toward the future could be completed on schedule; excess production was a waste. Traditional economic laws didn't apply here, nor did they apply to most settlements on the wasteland.

Alighting with them at the same station were another man and woman. The man was tall and thin, with short hair. The woman had a black ponytail and seemed the quiet type.

Just as Night Ten was sizing them up, the man looked at him with a slight smile and suddenly spoke.

"An excellent speech."

Night Ten was taken aback, then felt a bit embarrassed. He cleared his throat lightly and said,

"You flatter me. I'm rather ashamed—I talk too much. Sorry if I offended you—"

Jiang Xuezhou gave a slight pout and muttered,

"Nothing to be ashamed of. What you said was right. Why apologize for being correct? The strange ones are those who felt offended—their own friends and family live in those conditions too."

"Haha, I'm not one to judge the Science Committee's decisions, but... I agree with what this gentleman said. We should indeed use the knowledge left to us by our predecessors to do something. The pursuit of a better life shouldn't be a crime." The researcher smiled conciliatorily, then introduced himself. "My name is Li Xiang, E-level researcher. This is my colleague from the same department, a surveyor named Wu Xiaoxiao."

The girl called Wu Xiaoxiao nodded shyly, glanced at Night Ten, but her gaze lingered more on Xiao Jiang beside him.

Night Ten noticed a clear trace of awe and envy in her eyes.

That was only natural.

Though Xiao Jiang was just a lowly D-level, in the eyes of E-levels and surveyors, she was undoubtedly a big shot.

"Night Ten. This is Jiang Xuezhou."

Though he thought the two might already know his fellow traveler, Night Ten introduced her as well.

Li Xiang nodded politely at them, especially at the senior student from the same hometown.

But what surprised Night Ten was that he felt the man was more interested in him.

"I hear you're from the Alliance?"

Night Ten nodded.

"Yes, I'm a resident of Vault 404."

The interest in Li Xiang's eyes deepened, especially when he heard "Vault 404."

"Wonderful... I've always been curious about you. Could you tell me in detail? How did you build such a vast organization on the wasteland in just two or three years?"

From those keen eyes, it was clear he was genuinely curious.

Night Ten felt a surge of pride, never expecting to find a fan of the Alliance in such a remote place. He laughed heartily.

"That's a long story... Though it's only been two or three years, a lot has happened in that time."

"No problem! We can talk as we walk." Li Xiang looked at him with fervent interest. Even Jiang Xuezhou couldn't help but prick up her ears.

"Alright, let me think..." Recalling past events, Night Ten began weaving a story in a casual tone. "It all started with a town mayor called Old Leech and a girl named Little Fish..."

A good story always warms the heart. The howling wind and snow seemed less biting.

At first, he spoke casually, telling how the flame of order rose from the wasteland, but as he went on, even he was moved.

It wasn't self-praise.

Back then, it was truly tough—he, a top-tier T0 player, had to burn cement himself, and the server's max-level gear was a scoped iron pipe rifle!

Not to mention the listeners—even the storyteller himself was on the verge of tears!

The three walking beside him were also stirred. A faint, flickering flame kindled in their hearts...

Just as Night Ten was recounting how Chu Guang overthrew the old mayor of Bette Street and the spark of rebellion ignited outside Boulder City, on the Boro Sea, thousands of kilometers away from the Wandering Swamp, an unremarkable cargo ship was slowly approaching the largest trade port on the west coast of the Boro Province.

Standing on the bow deck, Governor Nihaq stared at the distant port in astonishment, his eyes filled with indescribable surprise.

The setting sun cast its glow over the bustling concrete dock. Along the four-to-five-meter-wide brick-and-stone streets stood rows of neatly arranged red-brick Western-style houses.

Its prosperity seemed no less than that of the transformed Golden Port.

In fact, it was even more luxurious, even busier!

The artistic achievements of the Vlanders were no less than those of the architects from the Alliance, the Enterprise, or the Academy, especially in grand and beautiful structures, which reflected their unique aesthetic sense as massive as the caliber of their cannons.

Some Vlanders seemed to have settled here, bringing not only their wives, houses, and dinars from Triumph City but also their elegant way of life.

Governor Nihaq saw a high-nosed overseer brandishing his whip, urging a group of bare-chested laborers to carry large crates big enough to hold a man, shuttling back and forth across the sun-scorched concrete dock.

That familiar smell!

Gazing at the scene before him, Governor Nihaq took a deep breath and couldn't help but shed tears.

It's back!

Finally, it's back!

Not far behind him, the fluffy white bear stared at his back with disdain and muttered,

"Can I throw him off the ship?"

"No, Rourou. He's a quest item! The client at Oil Port paid a hefty travel fee." Standing beside her, Tail rested her right foot on the railing, eagerly gazing at the legendary West Sail Port.

What a huge port!

This settlement was probably no smaller than Golden Port—maybe even over a million people!

And besides the natives of the Bolo Province, the port district was also home to a considerable number of Valiants, so it seemed the cargo they had brought would have no trouble selling!

Before long, the cargo ship docked at the port, and a Valiant officer stepped onto the deck.

Emerging from the captain's cabin, Sisi handed over the cargo manifest while pulling out her VM to show the Valiant officer her credentials and the identification barcode.

"This is an electronic pass issued by the Commonwealth of Sticky Bodies. We’d like to apply for permission to go ashore."

"As you wish," the Valiant officer said, glancing at the document with a chuckle. "We’ll guarantee your legal rights, but I’d advise you to stick to the port district. Those rats have terrible habits—a lady like you would do best to avoid night walks or ducking into alleys. Our guards might not always see you."

Catching the ill intent in his gaze, Sisi paid it no mind and replied curtly.

"Then don’t trouble yourselves. Just don’t try any clever tricks."

As if hearing a hilarious joke, the Valiant laughed heartily, then after he’d had his fill, he curled his lip and said,

"We don’t stoop to clever tricks. What we want, we take on the battlefield."

Only a Valiant could puff out their chest and say such a thing.

Sisi shrugged, her tone mocking.

"Save that bravado for your own kind. No need to tell us. Everyone who trades with us gets rich, but anyone trying to snatch even a copper coin from us had better be ready to lose a couple of teeth."

Catching the barb hidden in her words, the Valiant officer smirked indifferently and made an exaggerated gesture of welcome.

"I’m Decolo, director of the West Sail Port Authority. Welcome to West Sail Port. Hope you enjoy your stay here!"

With that, he handed the cargo manifest to his deputy and stepped off the ship.

The cargo aboard the *Meat Meat* included, besides over twenty passengers, 500 tons of herring cans and 150 tons of potato-distilled liquor.

These were specialties of Gold Gallon Port and the two items most in demand among the Valiants. Though there wasn’t much room for haggling, selling them was no worry at all.

At least five or six thousand Valiants had settled in West Sail Port, and counting the transient population, it might exceed ten thousand. The daily consumption of herring and liquor could be measured in tons.

Moreover, a few hundred nautical miles to the northwest lay the Southern Legion’s port, so even if local demand didn’t exhaust the stock, it could be sold there.

Besides herring and liquor, there were also miscellaneous goods—

Refrigerators, watches, furniture, electronics, even old books from Silver Moon Bay or other handicrafts.

After disembarking, Sisi rented a covered stall in the market through the port authority, then directed the crew to haul a few cases of loose goods to the stall as samples, tagging them with prices for sale.

The four of them agreed to work in pairs, taking turns minding the stall, and drew lots to decide the groups.

The first group was Sisi and Sesame Paste.

To pass the idle time between customers, Sisi bought a locally popular book from the market and started reading.

Sesame Paste initially watched the passersby with curiosity, but soon realized everyone in this area was Valiant, and grew bored. So she picked a book from the crate of old volumes and, mimicking Sisi, began flipping through it.

As luck would have it, the book she grabbed was *The Awakener Bohr*, the very one Awei had been longing for.

At first, she skimmed a couple of chapters casually, but soon the gripping plot caught her attention, and before she knew it, she was lost in it.

Time ticked by, and Sisi had already closed two deals: selling 100 tons of herring cans at 6,300 silver coins per ton, and 80 tons of potato liquor at 11,221 silver coins per ton.

In West Sail Port, retail prices were roughly double wholesale. For instance, herring cans at a wholesale price of 6.3 silver coins per kilogram would end up on shelves at a retail price of 12 to 15 dinars per 200-gram tin.

If you did the math, based on the minimum retail price of 12 dinars, the "wholesale price" for a 200-gram tin was about 6 dinars, or 30 dinars per kilogram—almost exactly five times the real wholesale price of 6.3 silver coins per kilogram.

And the highest exchange rate between silver coins and dinars hovered around 1:5.

But with liquor, the calculated ratio often exceeded that figure.

Intrigued by this curious phenomenon, Sisi jotted it down in her notebook, planning to update her travel log online later after logging off.

Watching Sisi work diligently, Sesame Paste, who had been slacking off for an hour, felt a twinge of guilt. She quietly closed the novel resting on her knee and resolved to work seriously for a while.

She couldn’t leave everything to Sisi alone. At least… before the sun set, she’d make one sale!

Just as she thought this, a customer wandered up to her stall.

The man was gaunt, simply dressed—not a Valiant, but not a local either. He looked more like a priest of the Silver Moon Sect from Silver Moon Bay.

Sesame Paste was very familiar with such people—so familiar she could pick them out of a crowd at a glance.

After all, whenever she forgot to wear a hat to cover her cat ears, these types would rush over in fervor to worship her.

The man glanced at the book on her knee, then at the crate of old books beside her. Stroking his chin, he asked curiously,

"Are these books for sale?"

Hearing someone take an interest in the books, Sesame Paste’s face lit up with a warm smile, and she said in a pleasant voice,

"Of course! Are you interested, sir?"

The man nodded honestly.

"How much?"

Sesame Paste replied enthusiastically,

"We sell by the ton. A ton holds about two to three thousand books—only 2,000 silver coins!"

But to her surprise, the man shook his head and muttered in complaint,

"Too cheap. Books are precious—how can they be sold for less than herring cans!"

But these are old books…

Seeing the customer hesitate and shake his head, Sesame Paste made a helpless face and ventured,

"Then… 2,500?"

Before she could finish, the man had already pulled banknotes from his plain robe.

"Let’s stick with 2,000 silver coins. No need to haggle. I’ll take one ton."

Though the rule was a minimum of five tons, considering he was her first customer, Sesame Paste made an exception, accepted the money, and gave him a pickup slip.

"Take this slip to the *Meat Meat* to collect the goods… Um, may I ask, sir, what do you plan to do with these books?"

The man didn’t hide it. With a devout expression, he said,

"I am a servant of the Silver Moon Goddess, spreading her gospel in this barren land. But the local survivors are too ignorant and unenlightened. I plan to start by teaching them to read."

Sesame Paste stared at him in surprise, her right hand instinctively tightening on her hat.

Speaking of which, the Moon Clan had just been purged by the Emperor of Westland—was it really okay for the Silver Moon Sect to preach here?

It was hard to say if there was a connection, given how close Silver Moon Bay was to the Bolo Province. Many things were murky.

But then she remembered this was Valiant territory; the Emperor probably had no sway here.

"Well, good luck to you… Ah, by the way, besides old books, starting a newspaper could also improve literacy." She recalled something mid-sentence and added a helpful tip.

"A newspaper, you say?"

The man murmured thoughtfully, his eyes gradually brightening. "Hmm… that’s not a bad idea. Worth a try. But what should the newspaper write about?"

"Serializing popular stories might work well—like this one, perhaps?"

With that, Sesame Paste handed him the copy of *The Awakener Bohr* in her hands, recommending it eagerly.

"I remember the *Survivor Daily* in Boulder City first took off because of a serialized novel in its supplement! Once people share a common language and topic, even without urging, they’ll take the initiative to learn, and might even join in creating."

She recalled that the earliest issues of that paper had carried modified stories from the real world, brought over by players, but later, the popular tales were all original works by Boulder City residents.

Looking at the book the young woman had pressed into his hand, the pastor's face lit up with flattered surprise.

"Ah, this is too kind—are you sure you want to give it to me like this? Perhaps I should pay... how much?"

As he spoke, he hastily tucked the book under his elbow and began fumbling in his pockets.

Watching him scramble for money, Sesame Paste couldn't help but smile, waving her hand as she said,

"No need, no need—consider it a bonus with that ton of old books. If your newspaper turns a good profit, please send a royalty check to Mr. Spberg in Boulder City. Though the phrasing is a bit rough, he wrote it with genuine effort."

"Rest assured! By the way, my name is... Melchior. May I ask yours?"

"Just call me Sesame Paste." That was actually the name of her cat, which she later used as her online handle.

Just then, Melchior suddenly noticed a cat ear poking out from the edge of her hat.

At first he thought it was an illusion, but when he heard the name Sesame Paste, a vague memory of rumors from Silver Moon Bay stirred in his mind, and his expression shifted from bewilderment to fervor.

Catching the change in his face, Sesame Paste inwardly cursed her bad luck and quickly tugged at the brim of her hat to tuck the exposed ear back in.

But it was clearly too late.

With immense reverence, the man bowed deeply, oblivious to all around him.

"Please, honored—forgive me, rest assured, I shall not disappoint your expectations! May the radiance of the silver moon bathe this barren land!"

Seeing his over-the-top display and the dumbfounded look on Sisi beside her, Sesame Paste explained with a mix of exasperation and amusement.

"Don't be like that—and you've got it wrong, I'm really not some incarnation of the Silver Moon Goddess... I'm just an ordinary pla—ah, how many times do I have to say it before you'll believe me?"

"You're right, whatever you say is true." Melchior's face was devout, his expression sealed with secrecy.

Just like in Silver Moon Bay.

These "cat lovers" never listened to a word she said.

It was fun at first, but after a while, anyone would find it exhausting.

Sesame Paste pressed her forehead with a sigh, finally giving up on explanations, and muttered softly while hugging her knees.

"Ah... well, good luck anyway."

Her voice was filled with helpless resignation, but to Melchior's ears, it carried an entirely different meaning.

As if receiving a summons from the Lord, Melchior gazed at her crouched behind the stall and swore with utmost piety,

"As you command!"