Chapter 761: The Seminar in the Swamp and the Dramatic Change in the Southern Sea

Chapter 761: The Swamp’s Study Session and the Southern Sea’s Upheaval

Plot 721 had no café or restaurant, but it did have a library.

Not only that, but the collection here was substantial, and the building itself was quite grand—essentially the largest “concrete structure” in the town.

Usually, in the mornings, school-age children were in class, and workers were laboring at the drilling rigs. So the three “Academy folk” returning home for a visit chose to gather here.

Also present was Night Ten from the Alliance.

Jiang Xuezhou had intended to brew coffee for everyone, but as soon as she took out the coffee pot, Wu Xiaoxiao took it from her.

“Let me do it,” the girl said with a shy smile, faint dimples appearing on her cheeks.

Jiang Xuezhou didn’t refuse. She politely thanked her, then pulled out a chair and sat down at the table.

Soon, four cups of coffee were set on the table.

Seeing the eager looks directed at him, Night Ten, who had just taken a sip of his coffee, immediately understood their anticipation. He cleared his throat lightly.

“Where did I leave off last time?”

Li Xiang’s eyes burned with intensity.

“The Battle of Bette Street!”

“Ah, right…” Night Ten suddenly remembered, and the dusty memories came flooding back.

Though, calling that a “battle” was a bit of a stretch.

But since it was his own story, Night Ten cleared his throat again, channeled the mood of that time, and continued.

Even Wu Xiaoxiao, who had been a surveyor back then, listened with rapt attention, along with the others.

However, just as he reached the beginning of the Alliance’s industrialization, Li Xiang suddenly raised his hand to interrupt.

“Wait, there’s something I don’t understand… You said the Alliance’s earliest residents were mostly wastelanders and freed slaves, completely uneducated, unable even to read. How did they manage to develop industry?”

Wu Xiaoxiao nodded in agreement.

“I’ve heard that people on the wasteland can’t even do basic arithmetic…”

Night Ten nodded thoughtfully.

“It was indeed tough. Even our wise and mighty Administrator found it challenging. But he didn’t give up. On one hand, he called on knowledgeable Vault dwellers to throw themselves into frontline construction; on the other, he set up night schools in the industrial zones, teaching the freed people the methods, experience, and skills of production. He even… personally tutored them.”

Li Xiang frowned slightly.

“Night school… is that a type of school?”

Night Ten said succinctly.

“Sort of. But unlike the schools on Bette Street, night schools were mainly for adult literacy. After all, the workers had to work during the day, so they could only study at night.”

He was a combat-class player. Though he had participated in construction early on, he ended up fighting more often later.

In contrast, the life-class players in the Alliance probably knew more about that period. Much of what he knew came from the forums.

“Work during the day, study at night… That left them with hardly any free time.” Holding her warm coffee cup, Wu Xiaoxiao sighed.

“Studying was for their own good. If a person wants an easier life, they need more advanced tools. If a group wants an easier life, most of them must use advanced tools. You can’t build today’s Alliance with steam engines alone, even though they were indispensable at the time.”

He paused, then continued.

“And their hardship was only temporary. Later, we gave back the time we borrowed from them—along with other things we borrowed.”

Li Xiang asked with interest, “Like what?”

Night Ten thought for a moment. “Like power and responsibility. We no longer hold their hands to teach them how to make better products. They have their own industry representatives and institutions. They need to set their own rules, define what ‘good’ means for themselves. Not just for products, but for lifestyles too. After all, the version… I mean, the world keeps updating. We stay ahead of the world, like by liberating more people.”

The three listeners’ eyes sparkled with light, captivated by the story he painted.

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t just a story—it was something that had happened on the wasteland and was still happening.

The glow of that spark wasn’t astonishing in itself, but what was astonishing was that it had been born in a barren ruin.

There was no Council’s near-magical technology, no Legion’s iron-fisted rule, no Corporation’s abundant resources—only a group of survivors relying on themselves.

If only such a miracle could arise in the Wandering Swamp. Though it was a bitter, cold place, its conditions were far better than those of the River Valley Province.

Seeing the longing in their eyes, Night Ten cleared his throat again.

“…I have to say, our way isn’t the only way. You’re doing pretty well yourselves. The people here already live better than most survivors on the wasteland. You don’t have to copy us from scratch—that would be putting the cart before the horse.”

Li Xiang looked at him earnestly.

“Then what do you think we should do?”

“How would I know? I’m not one of you…” Night Ten said with a wry smile, scratching his head and giving a vague answer. “For example… still keep finding a new home as a long-term goal, but also treat those who can’t go to the new world a little better?”

At these words, Wu Xiaoxiao’s expression turned fearful, and she lowered her voice.

“That’s something only the Conclave of Doctors can decide…”

“Then don’t set such grand goals. Start with small things around you. For instance, treat the ordinary people around you a bit better. Use your knowledge to improve their living conditions—that should be possible, right? G-Points can buy more than just food.”

“That’s true,” Jiang Xuezhou said, a look of realization dawning on her face as she nodded thoughtfully. “I could bring back some tools useful for the drilling crews.”

Night Ten said patiently, “Not just tools, but more importantly, methods… Though it sounds abstract, your horizons are much broader than the residents of Plot 721. There’s a lot you can help them with.”

Li Xiang rubbed his chin, muttering to himself.

“You mean knowledge? But the Academy has schools, and people here have been learning since birth. I doubt they need us to do anything.”

Jiang Xuezhou shook her head.

“The Academy’s schools only teach what the Academy needs. They teach very little of what the people themselves need. We should teach them the latter too—like the Alliance’s schools, teaching scientific methods and the logic of exploring objective laws… At least we can prevent them from becoming selfish bastards like Su Qiming.”

Night Ten: “Su Qiming?”

Li Xiang chuckled.

“Ah, the one who had that little argument with you on the train. A Class E researcher, a refined egoist.”

He said the last half in a mocking tone.

Night Ten suddenly remembered.

“Oh, right… I’d forgotten about that guy.”

Though, calling that mild exchange an “argument” was a bit much.

These Academy folks sure had thin skins…

Wu Xiaoxiao hesitated. “But we can’t take up the children’s time. They have exams to take.”

Jiang Xuezhou nodded, stroking her chin. “I agree. So how about after-school tutoring? Only for children aged 12–14 and youths aged 18–20. The former have just reached the minimum age for exams, so the pressure isn’t too heavy; the latter have little chance left anyway. If we can influence more people, maybe we can push the Council to reform itself.”

Li Xiang’s eyes lit up. “Great idea! I’m in favor!”

Seeing both of them in agreement, Wu Xiaoxiao, though still hesitant, didn’t object further.

Seeing someone support her, Jiang Xuezhou's eyes grew even brighter. She clenched her fists resting on the table and continued with great enthusiasm.

"We need to give this organization a name... How about calling it the Student Union?"

At first, Ye Shi was happily watching them discuss, but upon hearing that awful name, he nearly spat out the coffee in his mouth. He coughed a couple of times and said,

"Let's call it the Study Society instead... sounds a bit nicer."

Because of this lousy game, he'd often had points deducted during dorm inspections for that thing, though he had no idea what use those points even served.

Jiang Xuezhou and Li Xiang exchanged a glance, had no objections, and nodded.

"I think it's fine."

"I don't mind either... Let's go with that name."

"Then I... agree too." Wu Xiaoxiao's eyes held a hint of worry, but in the end, she said nothing.

The Science Committee hadn't actually restricted researchers from organizing survivors under the committee to study, but such a thing had never happened before.

She admitted the Alliance's story sounded very appealing, even feeling a faint urge to go see that place for herself.

Yet, though some stories sound beautiful, when it came to actually making changes, she didn't know if it was the right thing to do.

After all.

Senior Xuezhou was just a D-level researcher.

Even if she was a promising research officer, and her mentor was a powerhouse just one step away from A-level, this force was still far too insignificant relative to the entire academy.

Moreover, such a matter might not even gain her mentor's support.

The latter half of this meeting essentially turned into a discussion of the Study Society's details and how to attract more researchers to join.

To that end, they also explored specific strategies for helping eligible students gain admission to the academy, thereby expanding the Study Society's influence among the academy's grassroots.

Ye Shi had originally wanted to continue the story he'd just made up, but he found that both Jiang Xuezhou and Li Xiang had lost interest in the latter part of the tale. Only Wu Xiaoxiao stared at him eagerly, anticipating the story's continuation.

Unbeknownst to them, time had slipped into evening.

It wasn't until he followed Jiang Xuezhou back home and stood at the entrance that Ye Shi suddenly snapped to attention.

He had intended to poach talent from the academy, but instead spent the whole day telling stories, completely forgetting about the serious work, making no progress at all.

"Damn it, what a rip-off!"

"Wocao?" Jiang Yuehan, who had been secretly hiding by the entrance to eavesdrop, tilted her head.

"Kids shouldn't learn that." Ye Shi quickly moved to cover her mouth, but Jiang Xuezhou grabbed him.

"What are you trying to do to my sister?"

"No, I—" Meeting her murderous glare, Ye Shi wore a constipated expression, stammering for a long time without explaining.

The little one hiding behind the shoe cabinet giggled mischievously and made a funny face.

"Giggle giggle, wocao!"

Ye Shi: "...@#%!"

...

While Ye Shi was getting his head thumped by Jiang Xuezhou and fled into the kitchen for refuge, the Rou Rou docked at West Sail Port was also a scene of lively celebration.

At the West Sail Port pier.

Inside the Rou Rou's vault, a person and a bear were rolling around in a pile of gold coins.

Sprawled out like a star on the floor covered in gold coins, tail doing a backstroke motion, eyes closed, talking in her sleep.

"Oh oh oh, Rou Rou, you know! When I was little, I always had a dream! To swim in a vault pool like Scrooge McDuck!"

"What's a Scrooge McDuck?"

"Huh? You've never seen Donald Duck?"

"...Pfft, our vault's still a bit far from that guy's, isn't it?"

"Doesn't matter! It's the feeling that counts!"

Completely unable to keep up with their conversation, Zhimahu stood by with an auntie-like smile, admiring the scene, while Sisi sat at the table meticulously going over the accounts.

All six hundred fifty tons of cargo had been completely sold out, with total sales reaching 4.9 million silver coins.

After deducting purchase costs, labor expenses, shipping costs, and taxes, the profit from this trade had surprisingly reached a staggering 2 million silver coins!

Part of the payment was made through the Adhesion Collective's electronic currency settlement system, and another part was paid directly in Dinars at a 1:5 exchange rate.

Factoring in the exchange rate difference, the profit from this deal was likely even higher than the calculated figure.

After all, in the Legion's main trade zones, the general exchange rate between Dinars and silver coins was around 1:3.

At this moment, the earned gold coins had been spread all over the floor by Awei and Rou Rou, claiming it was to experience a gold coin bath rarely possible in real life.

"...When I get old someday, I'll exchange all my money for gold coins and hide them on a small island!" The exhausted Tail suddenly let out a long sigh, reaching a hand toward the ceiling.

"Can you secretly tell me where you plan to hide them?" Rou Rou perked up her ears and asked.

Tail chuckled, climbed up from the pile of gold coins, and sat cross-legged on the floor.

"Oh! Rou Rou wants Black Tail's treasure too? Then go find it—it lies at the end of the starry sea! Go forth, all the world's wealth is there!"

That joke was way too old. Rou Rou rolled her eyes and didn't play along with her foolishness.

In truth, she was an easily satisfied person, with no particular desire for money. She enjoyed the process of adventuring with companions more than the act of making money.

In contrast, Sisi seemed to enjoy the fun of earning money more, since she was always so serious.

But what made Rou Rou curious was why she would share such a profitable venture on the forum.

Her furry bear paw picked up a gold coin, and she looked at Sisi, who was stretching lazily in her chair, and asked curiously.

"By the way, why put such a profitable shipping route on the official website? Wouldn't it be better to keep quiet and get rich?"

Hearing this, Sisi couldn't help but smile and casually replied.

"Using information asymmetry to make a small fortune is possible, but it's still a bit difficult to get really rich."

"Huh?" Rou Rou tilted her head in confusion.

Seeing her puzzled expression, Sisi thought for a moment and continued.

"It's actually like when Baiyue Company went public. Keeping all the shares to yourself is indeed feasible, and given Baiyue Company's current scale, there's no real need to share profits with others—just hold onto the existing pie. But if we want to go further than that, we need to gain more people's support. Not just our customers' support, but also the support of most Alliance residents... And the fastest way to gain their support is to make them our shareholders."

Although the Alliance's NPCs didn't have GM permissions like the Administrator to ban accounts, they did have some authority.

For example, they could genuinely participate in legislation through representative meetings, take part in the selection of personnel for local and Alliance institutions, and so on—in other words, they were worth winning over.

This wasn't about bribery or anything.

It was just that if Baiyue Company's profits also included a share for those NPCs, rather than being shared only among players, it would be safer for Baiyue Company.

Presumably, those NPCs, even if only for their own interests, would consider Baiyue Company's interests a bit more without crossing any lines, rather than opposing it on certain issues.

When an institution accumulates vast wealth but is stingy about sharing it with the majority who created it, it's always a dangerous thing, no matter the time.

Moreover, the capital raised from going public itself could accelerate Baiyue Company's overseas business expansion.

The Baiyue Strait had vast primeval forests, and relying solely on the players' meager savings and the current limited profits to expand operations was far from enough.

They needed to put to use the deposits that the Alliance residents temporarily had no need for, and when necessary, they would have to rely on the power of the Ideal City to mobilize the vast legacy left behind by the Era of Prosperity.

The Administrator had already paved the way for them, including the earliest currency exchange agreements and the current Sticky Commonwealth electronic payment and settlement systems.

“So… opening new trade routes is itself a way to make the pie bigger?” Trying to grasp the complex mystery, Sesame Paste asked thoughtfully.

“Exactly.”

Sisi nodded approvingly and continued.

“It’s hard to make this pie bigger on our own, even if we buy a few more ships and make a few more trips. Better to let other players interested in navigation join in, and use their strength to grow the entire market together… Besides, even without us, they would have discovered it sooner or later—we’ve just accelerated the process.”

Although West Sail Port had a large population, it was still under the rule of the Verrants, a situation far more peculiar than that of Golden Gallon Port.

Under the Verrants’ iron-fisted governance, the locals had no political power, not even the freedom to eat, and could only serve as servants to the Verrant colonizers. Even if they wanted to earn money from these people, they would first have to make the locals prosperous.

Selling goods to livestock was utterly pointless.

Currently, there was only this one route from the Eastern World to the Western World, but once other Alliance players arrived here, things would change.

When the players became active locally, they could even extend the White Bear Knights Bank’s branch here, helping newcomers who wanted to start businesses solve their funding problems, and providing shovels to those seeking gold.

This business would far surpass mere trade in profitability.

Tail also nodded with feigned seriousness and said spiritedly, “That’s right, Meat, you have to take the long view! Only then can we buy a ship that goes beyond five light-years!”

Meat couldn’t help but retort, “That’s just a pie in the sky from the Great Planner!”

Tail curled the corner of her mouth smugly: “Too naive, Meat. How do you know it’s not real? After all, no one’s been there to see.”

“Is it called the Gaia Planet… I really want to know what it’s like.” Gazing at the vast ocean outside the porthole, Sesame Paste said with a longing expression.

Tail: “Oh! Little Feather’s homeland! There must be all sorts of strange tentacles!”

“Ahaha…” Sesame Paste forced a smile.

Better not.

Although Little Feather was quite cute, if it was like the center of Clear Spring City, it would be somewhat of a mental contamination…

…

The Meat ship heading to West Sail Port was nothing more than an ordinary, unremarkable cargo vessel.

At that moment, neither the few frolicking in the vault nor the sailors dead drunk realized that, without knowing it, they had planted a seed in this land that had not been seen in two hundred years.

The stevedores at the port watched the sailors with envious eyes, or rather, they stared at the bottles in their hands.

Those were imported goods from the eastern continent, costing hundreds or even thousands of Xilan coins—perhaps more valuable than the stevedores themselves working at the port.

Clearly, among those sailors were some from Boro Province, who couldn’t understand why those fellows, who were just like them and even less hardworking, enjoyed such vastly different treatment.

Indeed, it must be those hateful Moon people who had stolen their pockets…

In the Silver Moon Church in the port district, Melchior was locked in the attic, pondering the name for the newly established newspaper. His gaze happened to fall on the crescent moon outside the window, and his eyes lit up. He wrote down the rather religious name “Silver Moon Gospel” on paper.

Originally, this newspaper was meant to spread the faith of the Silver Moon Sect.

But out of consideration for local sentiments, he thought it over and removed the word “Moon,” changing it to “Silver Gospel.”

Although it seemed somewhat inappropriate to serialize an entertaining novel in such a religious newspaper, that book was, after all, handed to him by the incarnation of the Silver Moon Goddess walking the mortal world, so it wasn’t entirely unrelated.

Compared to the Spirit of the Sand Sea, the Silver Moon Sect was itself a secularized and reformed sect, not so rigid in its doctrines and open to new things.

Moreover, he had carefully read the old books salvaged from the Meat ship. Relatively speaking, the story of “Awakener Bohr” was most likely to resonate with the locals and was better suited for oral transmission among the illiterate.

Just as the new wind blowing toward the wasteland grew fiercer, the situation in the southern seas, after long silence, finally saw a new change.

Sandbar Island, which had once been forced by the pressure of the battleship “Sea Horizon” to side with the Northern Federation, erupted in rebellion, sparked by the “Remote Garrison Act” signed by the new cabinet.

The island’s guards swiftly mobilized, first suppressing the local barracks, then occupying the Governor’s Mansion, declaring Charas’s new cabinet an “illegal institution,” and announcing Sandbar Island’s secession from the Northern Federation in the name of the Declaration of Defense.

Though it sounded bizarre, Sandbar Island had only 70,000 people.

The soldiers on the entire island numbered less than a company, while the guard bureau’s young men had a whole battalion.

Moreover, the stability of Charas’s regime relied entirely on that battleship; its legitimacy was itself a question mark. The soldiers lacked any will to resist, fired a few shots, then tied up their officers, so this peculiar rebellion ended without a single drop of blood.

The instigating young men were actually dumbfounded. They were dissatisfied with Charas and looked down on his puppets, but they had never considered what to do after driving him away.

Stranger still, when they occupied the Governor’s Mansion, the governor inside simply took off his hat with relief, tossed it to them, said “You win,” and resigned on the spot.

They had done something that met popular expectations, but no one knew what to do next…

However, one thing was certain: Charas would not tolerate this betrayal, nor would the radicals standing behind him.

They needed the blood of traitors to deter others who were restless.

Not to mention they had done it before—

Ordering the battleship Sea Horizon to shell Anle Island.

The new authorities on Sandbar Island clearly realized that Charas would react, so they hastily sent a telegram of surrender to the South Sea Alliance.

Behind the South Sea Alliance was the Alliance, and behind the Alliance was the Sticky Commonwealth—a much better tree to shelter under than the Northern Federation, with far fewer absurd demands.

Upon receiving the telegram from Sandbar Island, the South Sea Alliance authorities took it very seriously, especially when they discovered a destroyer escorting another landing ship converted from a cargo vessel departing from North Island, making them even more alert.

It looked like a bait; Charas couldn’t have failed to anticipate their move. That battleship might already be lying silent in ambush somewhere at sea.

But it could also be an opportunity.

To be fully certain, Commander Li Minghui, while dispatching the fleet, immediately sent a telegram to Chip Port, requesting reinforcements from the Alliance.

Fang Chang, upon receiving the telegram, did not hesitate. After seeking instructions from the governor appointed by the Administrator, he acted at once.

The two sides had already engaged in substantive military friction, with no need for further concealment. Moreover, the collusion between the Northern Federation and the Torch Party members was an open secret, at most just not yet breaking that window paper.

The guy squatting in the landing craft might well be a mutant manipulated by the Torch!

This wasn’t the first time!

Two H-10 “Overlord” transport planes stationed at the military base north of Chip Port took off urgently, carrying two companies of the Burning Corps toward Sandbar Island.

At the same time, two L-10 “Thunder” forward-swept wing vertical takeoff and landing fighters also sortied.

Under their steel wings hung fully loaded munitions, and the pilots of the Goblin Corps were equally ready.

The quiet sea was brewing with rolling tides; invisible waves surged and churned beneath the surface.

A great war was imminent!