Chapter 784: Landing Drill

Chapter 784: Landing Exercise

Li Minghui still remembered that just a few days ago, he had complained to his secretary about the Alliance being too merciful, and now, before many days had passed, his "good friend" had brought him a great surprise.

The idle folk on Ring Island must have been too full, for because a few people had been burned to death in some mountain gully that couldn't be found on a map, they came out holding signs to protest the economic cooperation between the South Sea Alliance and the Empire.

Well, that was indeed excessive.

But this protest truly left him baffled.

To be fair, anyone with a bit of sense could see who was handing out free money to whom, who was bleeding whom dry, yet these people stubbornly interpreted it as him playing the dog for the Empire.

When he heard about this, Li Minghui was furious, wishing he could go straight to Ring Island and argue it out with those fishermen.

Twenty billion!

The South Sea Alliance could pocket twenty billion without lifting a finger!

Did they never stop to think where their welfare came from, that let them do nothing and still not starve?

Look how spoiled they've become by the Alliance!

In the end, it was the Alliance's administrators who had foresight, seeing at a glance that Xilan was a cesspit, drawing a circle to play among themselves, refusing to take them along.

And the Legion...

But the Legion was another matter entirely, a pure case of not treating the people in the zoo as human—that was a different story altogether.

The lower limits of people varied.

While Li Minghui was stewing in silence, Si Wen, as he had expected, came knocking, staring at him aggressively.

"Mr. Li Minghui, I advise you to carefully reconsider your partners. We've suffered enough at the hands of the Torch Church... Let me be blunt: a considerable portion of the South Sea Alliance's residents do not wish to cooperate with the Empire."

Watching this man change his face like turning a page, Li Minghui nearly twisted his nose off in anger.

"Then do you still want to sell him the warships or not?"

"We do..." Si Wen blurted out instinctively, but then his words took a turn, "but we can't not."

"...You be the president then."

Li Minghui pushed back his chair to leave, startling Si Wen, who quickly grabbed his shoulder and firmly pressed him back down.

"You can't do that! You have to stay until the war is over! We agreed before... Don't joke like that!"

"Then tell me, how the hell am I supposed to both sell and not sell?" Li Minghui laughed in anger. "Take the money and not deliver?"

He had only said it in a fit of pique, but he never expected the man before him to agree outright.

"That's not impossible."

Li Minghui was stunned.

He had thought himself shameless enough for considering dismantling the warships into toys, but he never imagined there was someone even more shameless than him.

Dirty.

Too damn dirty!

Li Minghui stared at him.

"...You want to have it both ways."

"Why not?" Si Wen said with a wandering gaze. "The bill approving the purchase was signed by you, but the paperwork for delivery will be signed by your successor... You signed the agreement to buy the survivors of the southern seas a window for post-war recovery—no one can blame you. Your successor, for righteous reasons, refuses to sign the delivery agreement—no one can blame him either."

Li Minghui sighed.

"This move of yours is too bullying."

"What else? Should we sacrifice ourselves? Give them your ships so they can romp around in our territory? Wake up—you yourself think the Alliance is too merciful, so why go soft when it comes to you?"

Si Wen spat out two harsh sentences at him, then continued.

"The Representative Council will buy you time. After you sign the contract, we'll respond to the doves' calls and issue an amendment... You'll still be our hero, and you'll even leave a glorious opportunity for your successor."

With that, Si Wen stepped out of the door, leaving only Li Minghui and his secretary in the office.

The room was silent for a long time.

Li Minghui sighed and looked at his secretary.

"It seems my intuition was right—we do need those folks who babble on and on at the meetings... Ahem! Help me arrange a meeting with Duke Nihark, at the Presidential Palace. Also, prepare the latest issue of the *Survivor Daily* from Fries Port—I might need it."

It was truly unbearable.

Just a few days ago, he and Si Wen were at each other's throats, and now, in less than a month, they had "shaken hands and made peace" twice.

The secretary nodded in bewilderment.

"Yes... sir."

Perhaps his skill wasn't up to par—he was increasingly unable to understand these people...

...

Sword, shield, armor... even the chopping board were all prepared, yet Duke Nihark, who had received the invitation, had no idea that he had become the fat bull in the arena, while his newly made friend was idly warming up with sword flourishes behind the scenes.

Thinking that the supreme war hero of the South Sea Alliance had remembered his wealthy and mysterious old friend, he gladly donned his luxurious robe woven from demon silk and went to the appointment.

It was his favorite robe.

The sunlight outside the window was a bit dazzling.

Li Minghui rose and walked to the window, gently adjusting the blinds to dim the light. After a moment to compose himself, he turned and looked sternly at Duke Nihark, who was calmly sipping his black tea.

"Mr. Nihark, you've gone too far."

Duke Nihark frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Li Minghui gave a light cough.

"I mean... the newspaper you've placed under the teapot."

For the sake of twenty billion, he softened his tone, and Duke Nihark indeed relaxed his brow, his gaze falling on the headline of the newspaper.

He hadn't bothered to read the words on the paper before; only when Li Minghui pointed it out did he realize it was a "newspaper."

*"The Executioner of Mammoth State, Arayan Who 'Annihilated' a Hundred Thousand 'Enemies'!"*

[Image: The Stone Village Massacre.]

Seeing the headline and the image, Duke Nihark's brow twitched violently. Without even glancing at the body text, he explained with a dark face.

"We can't interfere with the frontline general's decisions either... It was indeed a wretched act—we'll hold him accountable afterward!"

That damned Arayan!

He didn't even know how to clean up his mess!

He guessed the course of events at once—someone had been soft-hearted, let survivors live, and the story had leaked out.

If they had killed everyone cleanly, would there have been this trouble?

It wouldn't have been called the Stone Village Massacre; it would have been called the Burning of a Hundred Thousand Troops!

Of course, holding him accountable was just talk. He had personally pushed Arayan up—holding him accountable would be slapping his own face.

And what the hell does that have to do with your South Sea Alliance?

Li Minghui sat down across from him, poured himself a cup of tea, and sighed.

“…It’s a tough spot now. I’d rather not get involved in this kind of thing, but some residents of the Ring Islands have popped up, opposing my selling warships to you.”

Not selling the warships?!

Then wasn’t his hundred billion all for nothing?!

At these words, Nihark’s face instantly changed.

“What do you mean?! How can you go back on your word!”

Seeing that the fellow seemed a bit overreactive, Li Minghui quickly softened his tone and coaxed.

“Your Grace, you misunderstand. I don’t intend to back out—otherwise I wouldn’t have rushed to invite you here to discuss a solution.”

Seeing that there was still room to talk, Duke Nihark finally calmed down, and his tone eased as well.

“Then tell me, how shall we talk?”

“The representative wants me to give the residents an explanation, but to be honest, what the hell do they know? They have no idea how important the Empire is to the South Sea Alliance. Yet unfortunately, I’m just a babysitter—I don’t want to deal with them, but I have to placate them,” Li Minghui sighed, putting on a troubled expression, shaking his head as he continued. “If I can’t get past them, and they put someone who opposes the Empire in charge, then who knows where these warships will end up.”

Nihark tensed up entirely and quickly said.

“Can’t we… get rid of those people?”

As he spoke, his eyes darted left and right, and his right hand lightly mimed a throat-slitting gesture, the meaning clear.

Li Minghui’s brow twitched violently, and he coughed.

“You, Your Grace, please be normal… We’re discussing something very serious.”

Not to mention he couldn’t do it—even Charas couldn’t pull off something like that. That overreaching madman could at most impose martial law.

If he really laid a hand on his own people, he wouldn’t even have a chance to become the Bunker Boy, and the airport battle wouldn’t need to be fought.

Nihark was baffled for a long time, not seeing what was abnormal about himself. Besides, he was just offering an idea, not insisting on it.

Seeing that Li Minghui didn’t agree, he had to shift his angle of thought. After pondering for a while, he slowly seemed to grasp some key points.

“So, as long as we make that representative happy, it’s all good, right?”

“Yes,” Li Minghui nodded quickly, with a sincere—or rather eager—expression. “We’re friends, you’ve got to help me with this!”

His plan was to have Nihark propose placing the order as soon as possible, finalize the contract and design drawings, and pay the deposit and advance payment.

But he had overestimated the duke’s intelligence. The latter, perhaps used to being a big spender, treated the South Sea Alliance like his own backyard and waved his hand grandly.

“That’s easy! I’ll give you another ten billion Xilan dollars in loans!”

Li Minghui, who was drinking tea, nearly spat it out. He coughed several times before setting down the cup.

“It’s not about the Xilan dollars… Ahem, of course, we fully support your willingness to aid our reconstruction, but… we’re currently discussing the sale of warships. Can you understand? These are two separate matters.”

Why couldn’t this guy get it through his thick skull?

Looking at this fat-headed fellow, Li Minghui felt both amused and exasperated, but he had to patiently explain.

Nihark frowned and thought for a moment.

“Mr. Li Minghui, there’s no one else here. Why don’t you speak plainly… What exactly do you need me to do?”

Li Minghui stopped beating around the bush, staring at him with bright eyes.

“I want to finalize the order as soon as possible, before those blabbering fools at the meeting strike at our intimate friendship!”

Nihark was overjoyed, rubbing his hands together.

“That’s great! I was thinking the same! What’s your most powerful ship?”

Seeing the fish take the bait, Li Minghui immediately said.

“The Haiya-class battleship! It can shoot down a Legion airship in a minute!”

Duke Nihark’s heart shook violently. He nearly jumped off the sofa, staring at Li Minghui and exclaiming.

“That powerful?!”

Li Minghui coughed.

“…You can try it out after you buy it.”

Honestly, war wasn’t a dice roll to compare sizes; the question itself was stupid. But there was no help for it—the client ate that stuff up, so he had to use such layman’s analogies.

Sure enough, Duke Nihark’s eyes blazed, his thumb and forefinger nearly rubbing sparks, drool almost dripping.

“How much?!”

Watching the eager Nihark, Li Minghui’s heart pounded fiercely, but he kept his cool and continued to spin.

“Maybe… one billion silver coins? We’ll need the design drawings to estimate—of course! We support installment payments. You pay a fifty-million deposit, and our shipyard can start work. After that, pay ten million each month until it’s all cleared.”

That last part was mainly to keep the hooked big fish from being scared off.

But to his surprise, the fellow opposite wasn’t intimidated by the astronomical figure at all. Instead, he stood up in great delight.

“Excellent! One billion silver coins… How about this: we’ll take a slight loss and make it ten billion Xilan dollars for you!”

Hearing that “slight loss,” Li Minghui nearly choked on his own saliva. He quickly interrupted the duke’s daydream.

“Mr. Nihark, Your Grace of the Empire… it doesn’t work that way. Payment must be in silver coins.”

Nihark froze, his brow furrowing.

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said—”

“We lent you so much money, you bought so many things from us with Xilan dollars—tens of thousands of tons of steel, cement, cotton, soybeans, and sugar! And now when we want to buy your stuff, we have to use silver coins?! What’s your game?”

Governor Nihark’s gaze turned slightly hostile, a hint of suspicion rising in his murky pupils.

The debt in Xilan dollars had to be repaid in Xilan dollars—that was written in black and white.

Were these guys planning to pay back the money or not?

Li Minghui was stunned too.

He had sharpened his knife to slaughter the pig, but never expected the pig to suddenly wake up. He hurriedly patched things up.

“It’s not that I don’t want to accept… Of course we’d be willing to, but it’s just…” His mind raced, and suddenly a flash of inspiration struck. “It’s the shipyard that won’t take them!”

Nihark blinked, confused.

“The shipyard?”

How did it come back to the shipyard?!

“Yeah…” Li Minghui sighed, putting on a helpless expression. “The Alliance’s companies hold shares in North Island Heavy Industries, and they audit the books. Plus, North Island Heavy pays its workers in silver coins… We can’t help it. We can’t force them to accept Xilan dollars, right? Not to mention whether the Alliance’s shareholders would agree, the shipyard workers wouldn’t stand for it either.”

He didn’t even mention that the battleship’s electromagnetic cannon came from Vault 70, which was currently managed by Vault 404, and Vault 404 was part of the Alliance.

But Duke Nihark didn’t ask. Instead, he seriously pondered Li Minghui’s words, thinking they seemed to make some sense?

Though he felt something was off, he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Actually, using silver coins was fine.

Previously, the blockade on Golden Harbor was lifted, and the various inland and coastal ports of the Boro Province and Golden Harbor resumed trade, with the combined monthly throughput even surpassing a million tons!

That meant, on average, every resident of Golden Harbor exchanged "a ton of goods" with residents within the empire each month!

Since the agency commissioned by the Golden Harbor authorities collected tariffs on behalf of the empire, the tariff revenue rose alongside the trade volume, and after a few months, there was a floating surplus of seventy to eighty million silver coins—far more lucrative than the old days of trading in human lives.

But enjoyable as it was, the royal family had fewer uses for silver coins than for dinars.

This foreign exchange was mostly earned by merchants and nobles from Tiger and Leopard Provinces, and they were the ones who spent it, exchanging silver coins for the Alliance's machinery, seeds, fertilizers, and consumer goods.

Yet these ungrateful wretches were no good; they took advantage and played the victim, expanding their businesses while crying poverty to the court, refusing to pay taxes no matter what.

Rather than letting them squander the silver coins, it was better to use them for something truly meaningful for the empire.

"Alright, how will the fifty million silver coin deposit be paid?"

Suppressing the excitement and elation in his heart, Li Minghui said in a trembling voice.

"Same as before... You deposit the money into the bank at Golden Harbor, and the agency we've commissioned can collect it on our behalf!"

...

On the northern island of the southern sea, the beach facing north was as lively as ever.

Since the capture of the northern island in early October, the Alliance had designated this beach as a military training zone and conducted over a dozen amphibious assault landing exercises.

Now it was mid-November, and the northern front had gradually fallen into a stalemate; the Coalition of Adhesive Entities urgently needed to open a new breakthrough in the south.

This glorious and arduous task naturally fell to the Alliance.

To ensure the operation was foolproof and to reduce wear and tear on expensive equipment during combat, the players of the Burning Corps were fully focused during the drills.

Rows of "Alligator" amphibious armored vehicles, painted with blue digital camouflage, rushed from the shallow waters onto the beach, while six large landing ships bobbed on the undulating sea in the distance, gazing toward the shore like towering beasts.

As the armored vehicles charged onto the beachhead, they immediately began laying smoke and firing smoke grenades forward, and in an instant, plumes of smoke blanketed the entire beach!

When the vehicles reached the middle of the beach, the rear hatches burst open to both sides, and infantry in exoskeletons poured out of the compartments, moving swiftly in groups of three under the guidance of the "Visual Battlefield Guidance System" on their helmet visors.

Following close behind were the "King Crab" amphibious all-terrain infantry armor, their thick, long barrels glinting with a cold, menacing light in the sun.

From the moment the landing ships steadied to the moment all combat units were ashore, it took only 4 minutes and 31 seconds!

The entire sequence was executed in one fluid motion, without a single pause!

Beyond the officers and staff from the Alliance command, there were many onlookers gathered outside the cordon along the shore.

The residents of the northern island were already accustomed to the Alliance's drills.

After all, just over a month ago, these people had staged a "real" one, liberating them from the tyranny of that madman Charlas.

Not to mention those "Alligator" amphibious armored vehicles, which were designed by their own engineers, only with turrets redesigned by Goblin Tech for logistical needs.

Some snack shop owners had even rolled out their food carts and ice cream trucks, ready to sell to the "players" after their training.

Though these soldiers from the Alliance sometimes behaved oddly and spoke the Common Tongue haltingly, their discipline was impeccable, and they had no airs about them; the locals weren't afraid of them and even enjoyed interacting with them.

But while the islanders were unfazed, the laborers from Mammoth Province stood wide-eyed and dumbfounded.

So powerful!

What was their Majesty thinking, daring to provoke these monsters!

They deserved to be beaten black and blue!

Among the crowd, Verus, a representative from Mammoth Province, gaped in astonishment, his eyes fixed on the menacing armored vehicles.

Was this the full strength of the Alliance?

It was even more exaggerated than he had imagined...

He was one of the officers who had left the Golden Harbor Militia with Rasi, and also among those in the Mammoth Province authorities who had the deepest understanding of the Alliance's power.

After all, when the Alliance landed at Golden Harbor, he had been watching from the sidelines, watching the city defense forces get thrashed on their own turf, watching the Gray Wolf Army later driven into the Eternal Flow River to swim for their lives...

At the time, he had only marveled at the power of technology, without a clear concept of the Alliance's own combat capabilities.

Only now did he realize that the Alliance might not have been using its full strength back then.

No—

To be precise, the Burning Corps hadn't used its full strength, and the Alliance had far more than just one Burning Corps...

Verus involuntarily swallowed, burying the shock in his heart.

If only they could invite this force to Mammoth Province...

Of course, that might not be realistic.

But earning more silver coins to buy similar equipment should be feasible.

At the edge of the crowd, several engineers from Northern Island Heavy Industries also held binoculars, gazing out, occasionally chatting with smiles.

"That big crab is a product of Vault 70?"

"To be precise, it's an improved version based on the design blueprints from Vault 100."

"Tsk, those old-timers sure have a lot of treasures."

"The landing ships still need improvement... Would deploying landing craft from both sides be faster than from the middle?"

"Changing the production plan now would probably be too late; the Alliance's landing forces have already commissioned six, and the remaining two are due for delivery at the end of the month."

"It feels damn good to have unlimited resources."

"What about improving the existing design? Like installing a row of elevators along the gunwales."

"You have to consider the impact of equipment changes on soldier training..."

This drill involved more equipment than any previous one; several "Cloud Dragonfly" ornithopters even flew low over the sea, while "Lightning" and "Thunder" cruised above the clouds.

The enemy was just a bunch of mutants, at best armed with some weapons from Charlas—using so much high-tech gear felt like swatting mosquitoes with a cannon.

As the fighters swooped low, leaving trails of white vapor, the onlookers on the shore erupted in cheers and applause, with almost no one doubting the impending final victory.

Watching the fully landed troops, Old Bai, standing on the shore, glanced at the time on his VM, grinned, and called into the comm channel.

"Drill over! Good work, everyone! Remember to clean up your trash before you leave; rewards will be settled later."

He was usually strict when training NPCs, but there was no need for that with players—after all, dying was just a three-day affair.

As long as these guys took the drill seriously, didn't cause trouble, and didn't screw up, that was already commendable.

No exaggeration, only their Burning Corps and the Storm Corps could pull off drills like this; otherwise, it would have to be an NPC corps.

Hearing the boss's voice, the comm channel erupted with cheers of dismissal.

"Wrap it up!"

"Shaved ice! I want shaved ice!"

"Damn, I lost my shoe earlier; who's coming back with me to find it?"

"Haha! Shit! You're trying to kill me laughing."

"Even my dick is laughing!"

"%￥#@!"

As the drill ended, the distant landing ships turned back toward the port on the island's southern side, and the players, in groups of three or five, made their way ashore.

Watching Old Bai standing at the edge of the drill ground, Yin Cha Yang Cuo spoke with animated delight.

"Chief! How was it this time?"

Old Bai laughed heartily.

"Not bad at all!"

Without Family: "Damn! Just 'not bad'?!"

"Afraid you'd get too cocky," Old Bai said, patting the brother on the shoulder with a chuckle. "But this result is already pretty good."

At a beachside restaurant not far from the drill zone and military base, Mosquito lounged on a deck chair, sipping coconut juice while idly watching the occasional beauty passing by on the road, and occasionally glancing at the *Survivor Daily* in his hand, which served more as a prop.

Gecko Tech was one of North Island Heavy Industries' major partners; the "Short-nosed Crocodile's" 37mm turret and auto-loading system had been redesigned by the former.

To avoid missing the landing day, he had specially traveled from the northern front to the southern front, leaving the card duel tournament in Weifu City's Kun Town to some rat-kin underling to manage.

That rat-kin lad was truly a genius, mimicking his raspy voice to run the tournament with flair, successfully pitting the Willantians against the fools of Ideal City.

Cards costing less than 0.01 silver coins weren't just selling like crazy among NPCs; some clueless newbie players were collecting them as Easter eggs.

Of course, these were just minor episodes during wartime.

No matter how expensive the cards got, they couldn't match the profit margins of arms deals.

Seeing an old acquaintance lounging on the deck chair, Fang Chang tossed his helmet aside and casually sat in the chair next to him, teasing with a grin.

"Aren't you going up for a few laps?"

"Pfft, flight skills are etched into my genetic code. That thing was my design; training or not, it's all the same."

"You're still the best at bragging," Fang Chang laughed, then glanced at the waitress in a maid outfit, nodding with a smile. He took the menu she handed him and ordered a mojito.

Recently, many things exclusive to Dawn City had appeared on North Island. Though mainly aimed at milking players for money, it also helped spread the artistry of Rattan Cottage's creations.

The locals weren't particularly averse to these foreign cultures, whether refined or vulgar.

After all, compared to the oppressive life under the Charas era, every day since the civil war felt like a blissful dream.

With a familiar face beside him, Mosquito felt too embarrassed to openly flirt with the NPC waitress. He pretended to bury his head in the newspaper, which was nearly crumpled.

He hadn't expected much, but a closer look at the headline startled him.

"Holy crap... that's a big move!"

The Xilan Empire had invested 1 billion silver coins to order a 100,000-ton battleship from North Island Heavy Industries!

Good grief, even the Alliance didn't have anything this impressive—so the old geezer of the Brahmin Province was getting one?!

Of course, the reason the Alliance didn't have one was mostly because they didn't really need it.

On one hand, during their battles with the Legion, the Alliance had developed multiple more cost-effective tactics—like phase cannons that could disable shields and anti-gravity systems in one shot, terminal low-speed guided weapons, boarding actions, and even low-tech balloons that could, under certain conditions, jam a blimp's propellers.

The South Sea Alliance had built the bizarre "Haiya" battleship purely because they treated the Legion as a hypothetical enemy without actual combat experience.

Objectively speaking, the thing was indeed powerful, but economically it wasn't worth it.

It was like a sword with a diamond-studded hilt—it might increase the odds of winning, say by distracting the opponent, but the price of that gem could buy an entire knight's equipment.

Fang Chang glanced at the newspaper in Mosquito's hand and said with a smile.

"You only found out today? I knew two days ago."

Mosquito coughed and defended himself.

"Ahem... I've been busy with business lately, haven't been keeping up with NPC news. But hey, why hasn't anyone discussed this on the forums?"

Fang Chang replied casually.

"The debate over battleship effectiveness was already settled before the North Island showdown. It turned out that thing could only take a few more torpedoes than a destroyer before sinking—the CG of its demise was indeed spectacular... What else is there to discuss? More powerful plasma engines are our R&D focus; they'll be useful when we unlock outer space maps later. You know that."

Ignoring Fang Chang's words, Mosquito kept reading the newspaper, his eyes growing more excited.

"1 billion silver coins, 50 million upfront, 10 million monthly payments, plus the authorities' reconstruction loan aid to the Xilan Empire increased to 30 billion... Damn, how is this empire so rich? Hey, don't you ever think about pushing a bit further?"

"That sounds so sleazy coming from you..." Seeing Mosquito's eager look, Fang Chang rolled his eyes in exasperation, then paused before continuing. "And guess where the empire got all those silver coins?"

Mosquito grinned slyly, taking a sip of coconut juice.

"What's there to guess? You guys gave it to them, right?"

Fang Chang smiled faintly.

"If you already know, why ask?"

Back when they first stormed into Golden Port, that "slave port" had an annual import-export total of just a few hundred million dinars.

But after they turned the livestock there into humans, Golden Port's monthly trade volume alone exceeded that amount, and even a fool like Wutuo could rake in tens of millions of silver coins in tariffs.

Simply occupying a few patches of land meant nothing. To earn more silver coins from NPCs, you had to turn more NPCs from livestock into humans.

In fact, this was the hidden "reward mechanism" of *Wasteland OL*. A little understanding of A-Guang's game design made it easy to spot, and his Baiyue Company had been doing this for a long time, with decent results so far.

It wasn't just Golden Port; survivors in Tiger Province and Leopard Province were gradually starting to live like real people. They couldn't compare to Dawn City survivors, but at least they were better off than before.

"...Still, I feel like your hope of changing them by making them rich might be wishful thinking. I've never been to the Brahmin Province, but I did meet a few people from there in the Weifu Wasteland."

Gazing at the sunlit beach, Mosquito sighed while sipping his coconut juice, struggling to find words to describe the rat-kin underling he'd taken in.

After all, it was a raising sim—most players were pretty good to NPCs. For instance, Rattan practically treated Huahua like a daughter, even though the latter was much taller. And as for Luoyu and his brother, needless to say, Xiaoyu wasn't even human.

He was no exception; he'd always been kind to his sidekick, never stingy with financial support for that rat-kin lad. But no matter how much savings the guy had, how many books he read, or how much he learned, there was always a strange feeling—

He didn't seem like a normal person.

"It's like... the programmer maliciously deleted two key lines of code when editing that guy's program. Both Xiaoyu and Yinyin see themselves as human, but that guy never saw himself as one. So his personality isn't particularly odd, but he just doesn't fit in... I mean, outside of work."

Fang Chang chuckled.

"You're not his dad; why do you care how he lives?"

"Yeah, I'm not. I'm just a thrill-seeker, going wherever the fun is," Mosquito grinned, tossing the newspaper with its exaggerated headline to Fang Chang. "What about you? Want to be their sugar daddy?"

"Or maybe you should guess—are they buying that toy to use against the Willantians, or to use against you?"