vrcanaries Chapter 26 The House Is About to Be Robbed
Chapter 26 The House Is About to Be Robbed
"One! Two! Rise!"
The dawn of the deep-water port in the shipwreck area was completely awakened by a steel behemoth.
The mithril composite steel cables that the old one-eyed man treasured now played a vital role.
"One! Two! Rise again!"
He ran away carrying a bucket, standing on a high place, and his voice was already hoarse from shouting.
With a furious roar, the whole roasted lamb, along with a dozen or so NPC laborers, pushed the winch to its limit.
Until a dull, loud bang was heard, the mud that had been gripping the warship tightly was completely torn apart by the absolute mechanical power!
The wreckage of the warship, weighing over a hundred tons, let out a chilling metallic wail as it was forcibly pulled from the dark mud by a gantry crane.
The biggest physical obstacle in front of Pearl Harbor Pier 2 has been completely leveled.
The dozens of laborers who had worked all night were so excited by the terrifying industrial power that seemed like a miracle that their legs went weak. Someone took the lead, and a large group of them knelt down in the mud and water, worshipping the steel behemoth in mid-air and the players.
However, the art style is completely different for the players.
"Finally... damn... it's done..."
The little snail plopped down on the muddy ground, its eyes glazed over, with dark circles under them.
The scene of running away with a bucket and the light rain perfectly resembled that of a corporate slave who had been working overtime all week and was about to die from exhaustion.
"This game is way too grindy..."
To assemble this crane, they had been playing the game intensely for two days and two nights. The completely realistic gaming experience replicated their mental exhaustion in their minds.
"Brothers, I can't take it anymore, I feel like my liver is on fire."
The little snail waved its hand listlessly, "The first phase of infrastructure construction is complete. Except for the roasted whole lamb that just revived, everyone is forced offline to catch up on sleep. If we keep playing, I feel like I'll die from exhaustion and lose credit points."
"agree……"
"Let's go, let's rest for a while before playing again."
The group yawned widely, too lazy to say a word, and immediately brought up the system panel on the spot.
They found a clean place to lie down and collectively disconnected.
In the camp, only the whole roasted lamb, which had just survived the 48-hour resurrection cooldown and was full of energy, remained.
In the real world, it's early morning.
【Did you go on an adventure today?】Chat group.
Originally, there were only a few casual gamers who hadn't gotten the qualifications, who were just chatting aimlessly in the group.
Suddenly, the profile picture of the person running away with a bucket lit up, and a picture was displayed.
It was a sketch drawn on an iPad, roughly depicting a scene of a gantry crane lifting a decommissioned warship.
Running away with buckets: "Brothers! The warship is out of the water! We actually handcrafted a gantry crane in the game! This game's physics engine is absolutely amazing, it's incredible!"
"???"
"Damn, are you guys progressing that fast in clearing the land?"
"Seriously, your game doesn't even have a built-in screenshot function?! You're talking awesome without pictures?"
"Please, developers, hurry up and add a screenshot function! I see you guys bragging in the group chat with text and abstract drawings every day, and my CPU is about to overheat from imagining it all."
"Yeah, this QQ group is a mess. The chat history disappears in a flash. Can't the official team create a dedicated game forum? A strategy guide section and a video section, so even us armchair gamers can get some entertainment!"
Meanwhile, Lynn, who was daydreaming in the shipwreck area, was silently using the system to lurk and spy on the screen. Upon seeing this message, he thoughtfully stroked his chin.
The players' demands are reasonable. Once this crisis is over, it's indeed time to utilize the computing power of the system's backend to build a dedicated dark web forum on the Earth's internet.
This will not only facilitate players to exchange strategies, but also further expand the game's influence and select high-quality players for the subsequent second closed beta test.
Otherwise, it would be difficult to extract many useful talents from a group of just over a hundred people.
Lynn had checked the system for the functions of this dark web forum.
Although he currently has more than enough energy points for players to resurrect, it will still take some time before the forum feature is unlocked.
The best time is to accumulate enough energy points, and then save up some more to revive the player; that way, you're safe.
The clamor in the group continued, when suddenly the agent's avatar popped up.
Czech public security agent: "Screenshots are nothing! This maneuver was divine, okay? I've completely turned that old hag Bolton's spy against us; now the enemy is in the open while we're in the shadows."
While eating his freshly cooked instant noodles, the agent frantically typed on his keyboard, boasting about his glorious deeds, which prompted a group of casual gamers in the group to spam "666".
"So everyone, don't worry! Bolton's blind right now; he thinks we're starving in the shipwreck zone. With this 'eye' I planted, our camp has at least two weeks of absolutely safe development!"
After boasting, the agent put down his phone and went about his other business. After working so hard for so long, he still had to take care of real-world matters.
The casual gamers in the group were also infected by the agent's enthusiasm and began to optimistically discuss the future: "Since we have a two-week development period, shouldn't we build some entertainment facilities?"
"When the second closed beta test starts, will we be able to move directly into the villa area of Pearl Harbor?"
The entire chat group was filled with a joyful atmosphere of peace and tranquility, perfect for farming.
However, reality is often colder and crueler than expected.
...............
Inside Bolton's luxurious office, which was covered with a white werewolf skin carpet.
There is no acid fog, no hunger, only suffocatingly low air pressure.
Burton lay on the sofa with his bare, pale legs exposed.
But her eyes, which were originally full of languid charm, now gleamed with a fierce light as she held a weekly bill for the shipwreck area in her hand.
Across from Bolton, foreman Buck, who was in charge of managing the perimeter of the shipwreck area, was kneeling on a white werewolf skin carpet like a quail waiting to be slaughtered.
His obese body swayed precariously, and cold sweat seeped into his shirt drop by drop from his neck.
"Buck."
Bolton's voice was soft, yet carried a palpable pressure. "You reported to me yesterday that those outsiders in the shipwreck area were dying of thirst, and that the lowly laborers were all staying put in the ruins, everything seemed normal. Is that right?"
"Yes...yes, sir!" Buck swallowed hard and quickly pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. "The sentries have been ringing the bell for the past two days, saying there's been no movement down there, everything is normal..."
"Is everything normal?"
Bolton threw the ledger in his hand in front of Buck, and then suddenly raised his foot and stepped on Buck's face!
"Then explain to me what these numbers mean!" Bolton sat bolt upright, his eyes as cold as knives. "For two days straight! So many lowly laborers in the shipwreck area, and the scrap metal they've handed in isn't even 20% of what they'd expect! The same goes for the white seashells! Most importantly, nobody's buying filtered fresh water!"
Buck shuddered, stammering as he tried to cover it up: "M-Sir, perhaps those lowly people are just too tired, so the progress is a bit slow. In a couple of days, they'll definitely be able to catch up..."
"idiot!"
Bolton interrupted him without hesitation, his voice suddenly rising:
"Hundreds of laborers, not working for two or three days, not buying a single drop of water! They didn't die of thirst, and there wasn't a riot in the shipwreck area caused by the water shortage! Use your brain full of excrement to think about this—is that even possible?!"
Buck was stunned. Although he was greedy and foolish, it didn't mean he didn't understand this most basic common sense. His face turned deathly pale instantly.
Bolton didn't need to go to the scene at all. With just her grasp of the survival logic of the lower classes and her analysis of the gaps in economic data, she instantly saw through the fog to the truth behind it all.
"Your men can fool me with their vision, but they can't fake flowing water." Bolton stared coldly at Buck, as if looking at a corpse. "Now those lowly people in the shipwreck area are completely out of my control. They have new fresh water, new food!"
"And your sentry, not only is he blind, he's also been turned! He's covering for those outsiders!"
Bolton suddenly stood up, grabbed the wine glass next to him, and smashed it hard on Buck's head.
The dark red wine mixed with the blood flowing from Buck's forehead and trickled down his fat face.
Buck didn't even dare to make a sound, and could only desperately kowtow and beg for mercy.
"This isn't just slacking off, it's a rebellion!"
Bolton didn't even glance at Buck on the ground. She strode to the huge floor-to-ceiling window and braced herself against the glass.
Her business empire, her exploitative closed loop, will absolutely not allow anyone to touch it.
"Go and ring the Black Iron Bell," Bolton commanded, his tone laced with murderous intent. "Assemble a team of thirty fully armed elite enforcers. Bring armor-piercing crossbows and alchemical oil."
"But sir, the inspection was originally scheduled for next week..." the adjutant guard outside the door asked tentatively.
"I said now! Immediately!" Bolton whirled around, his eyes filled with ruthlessness. "Before sunset today, I'm going to that mudflat and see which reckless bastard dares to set the rules on my turf. I want to see their heads hanging on the warning signs in the shipwreck area!"
On the other side of Pearl Harbour, at Pier 2, roasted whole lambs are reminiscing about the games they haven't played in a long time.
In order to earn back the 500 credits he spent on the resurrection fee this morning, he became the only player on the entire server who had to work like crazy while everyone else was resting.
Well... if we don't count George.
"Woof! Woof woof woof!"
Just then, George, who was lying on a pile of scrap metal gnawing on a bone in the distance, suddenly stood up and barked loudly towards the depths of the thick fog.
The dog's fur stood on end, as if it sensed some extremely dangerous approach.
"What are you yelling about? Can't you see your brother Yang is busy working...?"
The whole roasted lamb wiped the sweat from its brow, stopped cursing, and looked up in the direction of George's barking.
He squinted, trying to penetrate the thin layer of acidic mist.
Gradually, his gaze settled on the top of the abandoned crane tower a few dozen meters away.
On the platform, which should have been completely still, a thin figure was now waving something wildly, as if possessed.
That striking red hue stood out like drops of blood on snow in the gloomy shipwreck area.
Red cloth!
The highest level of attack alert the agent mentioned: Red cloth!
Holy crap... this hidden sentry made a move so quickly?!
He rubbed his eyes and looked at the crane again, needing to make a final check.
Indeed, the red cloth was waved with extreme force, as if the sentry was making his final cry with his life.
The whole roasted lamb gasped, its scalp tingling instantly.
The agent confidently promised at least two weeks of stable development before going offline, but he didn't even last half a day! Is that woman Bolton a dog?!
"We're going to die! We're going to die! The army is pressing in!"
There was no time for Roast Whole Lamb to find a hidden offline location; he immediately issued a command in his mind: "System! Emergency Logout! Hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry!"
As if the power had gone out, the whole roasted lamb lay sprawled on the mud.
At this moment, the cloud gamers in the chat group were still enthusiastically discussing how to open a few bathhouses in Pearl Harbor, and what kind of promotional activities to offer for prepaid cards. The group was filled with a joyful atmosphere.
Suddenly, a user with special privileges called out to all the players and casual gamers in the group, and the message crashed into the group chat interface like a meteorite.
Roasted Whole Lamb: "@Everyone, stop sleeping!! Agent, you son of a bitch, come out and get your ass kicked!!"
Roasted Whole Lamb: "That NPC is waving a red cloth on the tower! A red cloth!!!"
Whole Roasted Lamb: "Bolton's army is attacking! Enemy attack!! Get the hell online! Our base is about to be raided!!"