Chapter 769.1: You Are What You Eat! Yiwu!
Chapter 769.1: You Are What You Eat! Yiwu!
“Technology.”
Along Embassy Street in Dawn City, smartly dressed young men and women came and went. Every so often, one or two “glowing” outfits could be seen. They were presumably Ideal City’s holographic clothing, capable of changing even the wearer’s hair color at will.
“Technology truly is wonderful...” Gazing out the window of the Ideal City Hotel, Duke Garawa suddenly let out a leisurely sigh, then unexpectedly lamented once more. “If the Empire’s technology were only stronger, if the Federation had left our Empire a little more of its legacy, the people of my domain would not need to eat soil. What a tragedy.”
Dawn City’s edition of the Survivor’s Daily had reprinted Red Soil the day before, so naturally he had seen it, although he had read only the reprinted preface, The Biography of L.
Although the article had clearly been written with the deliberate intention of smearing the Xilande Empire, he had to admit that White Elephant City indeed contained certain lazy good-for-nothings who could not even afford beans.
But what place did not have lazy people?
Besides, the Survivor’s Daily was supposedly a New Alliance newspaper, yet it insisted on reporting about idlers thousands of kilometers away while ignoring the drunkards in Boulder Town whose alcoholism had destroyed their families. Looking at it that way, the Dawn Garden Street Gazette, which dared to speak the truth, seemed far more concerned with the millions of suffering survivors within the New Alliance.
Still, verbal disputes were ultimately trivial. Duke Garawa did not care about the Survivor’s Daily slandering him. Seeing the red soil had merely stirred memories within him.
If only they possessed the technology to produce nutritional paste.
He had heard that it could transform inedible things into something edible, and it sounded extremely nutritious as well.
The more Duke Garawa thought about it, the more he felt that General Rowell had truly been no good. The man had reduced the cost of survival for the Poro Province’s inhabitants far too much.
Farming required taxes, but eating soil did not. The entire chain of production and distribution could be completed without the participation of nobles or the officials appointed by them. Even if he wanted to intervene, he could not.
That was unfair to the people who farmed!
“... If, during that year of ice and snow, Rowell had not created red soil and had instead invented some genuine technology, something capable of producing nutritional paste, for instance, our Empire would never have become so weak!”
When Niyan first heard Duke Garawa sighing repeatedly, his heart skipped a beat. After hearing those words, however, he relaxed again. The man had indeed read what Niyan had written, but fortunately, he had not read much of it.
A thousand readers would see a thousand Bores, and even Bore himself might see something different when looking at his own reflection.
His Duke, meanwhile, continued performing with his usual consistency. This time, he had mistaken technology for red soil buried beneath the ground. He was probably still imagining that brute force could produce miracles, that if they buried something in the earth and dug hard enough, technology would eventually emerge.
Deceiving him would be easy. Niyan only needed to follow his reasoning, bury a few relics from the Prosperity Era, and have people wave shovels around in imitation. That alone would probably make him happy.
Niyan had already begun planning how to use his new charitable donation, only for Duke Garawa’s next sentence to disappoint him enormously. For once, the man had acted intelligently and had not entrusted a professional matter to an amateur. “I have arranged a meeting with Mr. Liszt. You will receive him later. Do not neglect our honored guest.”
The name Liszt sounded familiar to Niyan. After thinking for a long time, he suddenly remembered seeing it in advertisements.
The man was something of a legendary figure. He had begun as a merchant trading goods, then used the chaos caused by the Bonechewer Clan to rise rapidly, becoming an influential figure in Boulder Town before escaping unharmed prior to the city’s collapse.
According to one account, he possessed wealth comparable to that of an entire nation and was the richest man in Dawn City.
However, Niyan always felt that calling Liszt the wealthiest man was somewhat forced. The person who had attended the hearing was clearly valued more highly by the New Alliance.
Of course, that was hardly important.
“Mr. Liszt is... the entrepreneur who manufactures exoskeletons and batteries?”
“Correct.” Imitating a certain person, Duke Garawa added milk to his black tea and spoke indifferently. “I carefully studied Boulder Town’s transformation. That merchant named Liszt made an enormous fortune from it, as did a steelworks merchant surnamed Sun Shiqi. They are among the New Alliance’s wealthiest individuals. Buying them off will be much easier than buying off shelter residents, and much more effective.”
Niyan was greatly shocked that the fool had actually investigated Boulder Town. He cautiously asked another question. “Do you intend to have him establish a factory in the Poro Province?”
“Exactly. I should have done this long ago. As a diplomat, I must accomplish something practical for the Empire.” Duke Garawa smiled faintly, a shrewd light flickering in his eyes.
Niyan carefully reminded him, “But we have neither fusion power nor as many experts as Camp 101... How will we persuade Liszt to go there?”
“That is actually simple,” Duke Garawa replied with a smile. “I asked around. The New Alliance did not possess those things in the beginning either, yet Liszt still managed to establish his factory. As for fusion power, it is merely a question of electricity prices. I will simply provide him with free electricity.”
If he could relocate Liszt Factory to White Elephant City and have it manufacture several thousand exoskeletons for him, then perhaps the emperor would not even need to intervene. The private troops on his estate alone could beat the New Alliance until their teeth covered the ground.
A delighted smile appeared on Duke Garawa’s face. He could hardly wait to visit the New Alliance post office and send the emperor a telegram sharing his joy.
Niyan could not quite follow his reasoning, but felt that allowing the man to make such an attempt might not necessarily be a bad thing, so he inclined his head slightly in response. “As you command.”
...
The rainy season was gradually ending in Port Gallon, and the weather was as pleasant as ever. At the wharf surrounded by seagulls, a long and enormous destroyer docked. Several tall, powerfully built New Alliance soldiers wearing exoskeletons disembarked.
Well, they were players and there was also no need to wear exoskeletons.
However, the equipment attracted attention, and Zero Rush happened to enjoy showing off.
Walking ahead of his teammates, Mountain River Dreaming looked around at the group of animals and spoke sternly. “We’ll report to Camp Rowell shortly. Someone will meet us there and coordinate the mission. Remember. Forget the rain, even if fucking artillery shells start falling, do not enter the locals’ homes!”
When delivering the final sentence, Mountain River Dreaming looked specifically at Zero Rush.
The latter scratched his head awkwardly, while Two Moonlight and Version Firstborn replied energetically.
“Copy that!”
“Aye!”
The powder keg in the Southern Seas could explode at any moment. Logically speaking, after being recalled to Baiyue Province to await orders, they should not have come to Port Gallon at a time like this. Unfortunately, a certain idiot had resigned alongside a whole group of officers without warning. At the request of the Port Gallon authorities, they had no choice but to return and train another group of officers to replenish the militia.
Player tactics were unsuitable for NPCs, but battlefield experience was universal.
Moreover, after countless fearless experiments with death, the players of the Burning Corps had refined certain tactics to their absolute limits.
For example, when multiple artillery batteries fired a creeping barrage to cover advancing infantry, the Burning Corps players could charge forward along the very edge of the shrapnel, using 155mm howitzers as though they were their own bayonets.
Then there were airborne operations behind enemy lines, the hunting of enormous mutants, and numerous other tactics.
The group passed through the bustling Tulip Street and headed toward Camp Rowell. Pedestrians repeatedly turned to stare at the New Alliance soldiers, while the exoskeleton-clad players observed the people in the streets in return.
Port Gallon’s first coastal freight railway and its first subway line running through the entire settlement had officially entered service. Although many old buildings remained, the chaotic slum shacks had largely been replaced by higher-density “New Alliance-style affordable housing.”
Bicycles traveled along the broad roads alongside hurried pedestrians. Streetlights once found only along Tulip Street had continued spreading down several major roads. Before long, they might cover the entire city.
Walking through the settlement produced a distinctly cyberpunk impression of densely populated cities, particularly because its most profitable industries were cotton textiles and dye works, making it somewhat similar to Mumbai during the latter half of the 18th century.
However, this place was much larger than Mumbai.
Zero Rush vaguely remembered that Mumbai on Earth covered more than 4,000 square kilometers, while Port Gallon, including the vast undeveloped outskirts, occupied a full 10,000 square kilometers.
Moreover, Mumbai was located on India’s western coast, roughly corresponding to West Sail Harbor’s position in the Poro Province. Port Gallon, meanwhile, stood on the eastern coast beside the mouth of the Everflowing River.
Of course, the most jarring, or perhaps fragmented, aspect was the locals’ peculiar manner of speaking. Whether from the lower or upper classes, everyone spoke with a strong “New Alliance flavor.”
It was like inserting a few English phrases into Mandarin. The locals were extremely fond of mixing the players’ distinctive grammar and sentence particles into their native dialects.
“Why the fuck does everyone here love cursing whenever they speak?” Zero Rush muttered, beginning to suspect that something had gone wrong with the map-loading program.
Two Moonlight gave him a complicated glance and coughed softly. “I think you should reflect upon your usual words and behavior.”
Version Firstborn nodded in agreement. “Exactly. Expecting people to imitate only the good and not the bad is unrealistic. If you eat grapes too quickly, you’ll inevitably swallow some skin.”
Zero Rush froze. “What the hell? How is this my fault?”
Two Moonlight shook his head. “Tsk, tsk. See what I mean?”
Mountain River Dreaming laughed and patted Zero Rush on the shoulder. “Relax. It isn’t a major problem... As long as you don’t enter the locals’ homes, everything else is minor.”
“Fuck me! How long are you people going to keep repeating that rotten joke?!” Zero Rush bared his teeth in fury but could do nothing. Still, now that he thought about it, the evolution of local customs might genuinely have had something to do with the players.
The language spoken by players differed considerably from that spoken by NPCs. It somewhat resembled a translated register in another sense.
Apart from veteran experts who had played for a long time or prominent players who had communicated deeply with NPCs, most players spoke a fragmented version of the Federation of Human's language.[1]
They learned a few pronunciations from the VM, and after hearing and using them often enough, stopped consulting the translator.
1. Federation of Human = the Federation of the old world. Didn’t want to confuse it with the Federation (Southern Archipelago) since both use the same name ☜