Chapter 951: Chapter 951: The Past and the Present
Over two hundred years ago, the biting cold wind tore through the earth, even the Lowell Camp near the equator wasn’t spared much.
Two figures limped through the cold wind.
One was wearing power armor, the other a full protective suit with the Academy’s emblem, and from the fog condensing on the inside of their helmet visors, they both seemed to be quite injured.
This was indeed the case; fierce resistance was never free of charge.
The thermal insulation system was already damaged.
The temperature of minus 30 degrees was helpless even for sticky fungi, let alone them who were about to lose their last means of keeping warm.
By the time the water vapor turned to ice, it would pretty much be the end for them.
But even so, their situation was better than the corpse they were carrying—
The blood flowing from the wounds had frozen into red ice, sealing the bullet holes, freezing the twisted face, and almost freezing the maddened desires.
And the mouth sealed with blood ice seemed to still be silently shouting—
’Why didn’t you listen to me.’
Why...
The soldier grimaced, exhaling a cloud of turbid air, blowing it onto the translucent visor.
That was their general.
As for why he was executed, that’s a long story.
In short, he no longer wanted to recall those infected with fungus in the lab, and those who were executed for opposing the esteemed gentleman... after all, his hands were also stained with some blood.
Yes.
He was an accomplice.
But who wasn’t?
Let the past be the past.
Their children don’t need to bear the heavy memories to move forward.
Human beings have compassion, and as an ordinary soldier, he was certainly no exception.
They wasted vast resources, killed numerous innocent people, missed the best window for self-rescue, and in the end, didn’t save a single person... and all this was just because of Lowell’s motto, they wanted to save the survivors who were pouring into the Poluo Province from the center of the world, they needed a "cultivable fungus that could work in temperatures of minus 30 to 50 degrees".
Which was the so-called red soil...
He didn’t know how to evaluate what he had done, but at least it takes courage to become a joke in other people’s mouths.
The two of them threw the corpse onto the freezing wilderness.
They took out a sapper shovel, and according to the plan, used all their strength to break the frozen ground, dug out a big pit, and threw their general’s corpse and the research data in together.
The Wasteland Era will end.
When everything ends, when their children’s children dig this up, perhaps they will stand at a higher perspective to give a more objective evaluation of what happened here, rather than simply defining Lowell as a bad guy or a good guy, supporters or opponents as righteous or evil.
Only when the whole memory truly becomes history, they wouldn’t have to be jokes in people’s mouths, and all this could come to a satisfactory conclusion.
They were just floating pieces of duckweed in the tide, dandelion seeds blown to the corner of the world by the aftershock of the explosion.
That’s all.
At least that’s how the soldier evaluated himself.
When about to fill the pit, the researcher next to him raised his hand to stop the soldier from filling the frozen ground.
"This is the last sample."
He raised his sore arm, with a trembling index finger entered the password, took out a scarlet test tube from the negative pressure sample box at his waist.
The scarlet color was just like blood.
No different from the blood on Lowell, the howling cold wind instantly turned the test tube into an ice sculpture upon contact with the outside.
Like laughing at that crazy plan...
"Keep your eyes open and look..."
Overlooking the ferocious face in the pit, the researcher pulled a stiff smile, fiercely throwing down the test tube which shattered on Lowell’s already rigid corpse.
"Minus 30 degrees, water freezes instantly! What kind of spore... can germinate at minus 30 degrees ultra-low temperature! Do you expect me to produce a silicon-based life in your broken lab?"
"Why don’t you invite God into the lab!"
This idiot...
Even on the verge of death, he wouldn’t admit his mistake.
The researcher finally finished cursing, yanked out the sapper shovel frozen to the ground, and vented his anger by tossing the overturned frozen earth and dirty snow into the pit.
Digging and filling took them a whole day.
But for them, this day was more meaningful than any other.
Because from now on, they were no longer enemies, they became compatriots again.
Though there wasn’t much time left in the following days...
Glancing at the little remaining energy, the soldier held back the researcher ready to return to the camp, shaking his head at him.
The latter hesitated for a moment, quickly understanding his intention, then smiled bitterly and nodded.
Indeed.
They had no reason to go back anymore.
The buffering door of the research institute opened one less time, which might give those inside two more days of life.
Leave the energy and supplies for the remaining people...
Moreover, when supplies ran out, what kind of hell it would turn into there was still an unknown.
Death?
They were long prepared for that.
Since they would leave anyway, better do it sooner.
Besides, what should be left of this history should not just be Lowell’s corpse.
They were the last brick of the tombstone.
Someone had to accompany him down there.
Only then, would those who come here later know what once happened here...
After finishing everything, the two of them didn’t return home but continued forward on the freezing wilderness, finally finding a "frozen tree" that looked sturdy enough.
The two exchanged glances, understanding each other’s intentions.
This was the place...
They tacitly approached, smoothing the snow on the ground, then sat down, leaning against the frozen solid tree nearby.
Perhaps the howling cold wind was indeed blocked somewhat by the dried-up trunk, or maybe their senses had just grown dull.
The researcher threw the sapper shovel in his hand far away, for they no longer needed it.
The soldier then pulled out the cigarette pack he had been reluctant to open, wanting to have one last stick, but realizing he couldn’t through the helmet of power armor, he finally gave up with a bitter smile.
Imitating the researcher, he harshly threw away the almost empty cigarette box in his hand.
Just consider it quitting smoking.
From now on, his name would be "Quit smoking."
The mist on the helmet had already frozen, and the alarm light that had been flashing no longer did.
The soldier closed his eyes, dazed for a moment, then suddenly spoke.
"Before Lowell died, he sent a message to the War Construction Committee... Damn it, I don’t know how he badmouthed us in the email. Do you think he would blame the ’Red Soil’ idea on us?"
"Whatever, they might as well send a troop over to see," the researcher smirked.
Would it matter when you’re dying?
"I doubt it..."
The soldier shook his head and suddenly remembered something, calling out to the researcher who was about to fall asleep.
"Hey."
"...What?"
"You’re a scientist... tell me the truth, will this planet get better?"
The researcher, who was almost asleep, shook his head.
"I don’t know, no one knows, but we’ve done everything we can... As long as one person survives in the end, we’ve won this war."
Some people went to Luo Xia Province—the granary of the Prosperity Epoch.
If the survivors there can keep the "dike" running, they might be able to preserve a part of the oasis.
Besides, it’s not far from the Grand Canyon, the War Construction Committee should be able to help them.
The soldier was silent for a moment, then sighed.
"I truly regret it..."
"...What about you?"
"I was so foolish, how could I believe it... Damn it, if only I hadn’t listened to his nonsense from the start, you’re to blame too, why didn’t you tell the truth..."
"Heh... No one ever said?"
Hearing the slightly self-mocking reply, the soldier fell silent, and after a moment, sighed.
"I suppose..."
Humans cannot conquer nature.
They can only conquer themselves.
Not until the final moment of life did he understand that their biggest enemy was not actually Gaia, nor the winter, not even Lowell and his stubborn accomplices until the end...
But themselves.
And always had been.
The dead become the fuel for the living, buried in the dust of history.
The era of the United Human ended.
If Lowell Camp was compared to a local battle, they both won and lost...
Because everything had ended.
"What do you think... future generations will say about us."
No answer.
The soldier glanced at his friend sitting beside him, only to find he had already merged with the ice sculpture behind him, much like General Lowell whom they had buried.
Minus thirty degrees was too cold for even Red Soil to survive, let alone people...
Yet, facing imminent death, the soldier’s heart felt no fear.
Consider it repaying a debt...
Hoping they wouldn’t become the dinosaurs of the Cretaceous, these memories just fossilized fuel to be burned away.
With a light sigh in his heart, he looked up at the gray sky, through which no light could pass.
"...Sorry, kids, we took a bit of a detour."
After all, winter would eventually pass...
Firmly believing so, the soldier took his last breath, merging completely with the frozen landscape.
Time flew by, like White Horse Passing a Gap.
For half a century, the howling frigid winds raged, but in the end, they couldn’t stop the blazing sun.
Winter finally came to an end.
Green leaves of grass sprouted from the soil, and all creatures that had been cowering in caves timidly poked their heads out, as if curious about the blue sky they hadn’t seen in eons.
This was the equator.
Rejuvenation started here first.
Survivors emerged from their burrows and dilapidated shelters, building settlements of various sizes on the banks of the Everflow River, hunting wild animals, erecting totem poles for each victory, and slowly reclaiming the fragments of the Prosperity Epoch...
The barbarism and bloodshed here were no less than those in any corner of the wasteland, but not as harsh as the latter.
At least there were no sandstorms or giant beasts from the Great Desert here, nor were there dead claws from River Valley Province or venomous insects from Luo Xia Province.
This felt like a natural refuge.
Civilization was gradually reviving.
As of now, Red Soil hadn’t formally appeared on Poluo Province’s stage, and the history of Lowell Camp seemed completely forgotten.
But it didn’t really matter.
This natural sanctuary had everything, enough animals left from the Prosperity Epoch for locals to feast on delicacies, and afterward, they could still farm and ponder cooking techniques.
It was a painful yet joyous period, and the sprouting of civilization slowly moved forward during this time.
Time continued onward.
Survivors of Giant Stone City high-fived their chips at the conference hall, sending off the last elder who had seen the Prosperity Epoch. Meanwhile, the Poluo Province tribal wars, fueled by population growth, quickly evolved into kingdom wars.
The language of the United Human was the biggest legacy the Prosperity Epoch left for the Wasteland Era.
Local survivors didn’t need to waste much time on trial and error.
Even if they couldn’t remember the lessons of history, they could recall fragments of distant memories, quickly matching themselves to a lifestyle suitable for their productivity.
After the chieftain, came the king.
Within 4 million square kilometers of the province, thirteen kings soon emerged, each corresponding to thirteen reserves or "states".
At this time, the ambitious "Moon King" summoned a wealthy farm owner.
The latter, with not particularly huge plantations, managed to feed tens of thousands of servants!
At this moment, the farm owner held a handful of vermilion soil in his hands...
The cycle at this point finally completed a full circle.
Currently, the thirteen states of Poluo Province do not include Moon Province, but long ago it did exist.
However, after the moon rose and fell, and then the sun rose, Moon Province was eventually replaced by the Lowell state of the rising West Winds Empire.
That too marked another Chapter of turbulent years...
...
Time returns to the present.
No one knows what happened in the past 200 years, not even the Alliance, who set up a research station on the old site of Lowell Camp at Jin Galun Harbor, can recover much historical material from its ruins.
In the many research topics of the Alliance Social Science Research Institute, the study of Poluo Province is just a relatively broad main line, parallel to those numbered shelters like 70, 79, 100, 101, 117, 401, etc., as an "unnumbered shelter."
The Chief of the Great Rift Valley naturally wouldn’t know that bit of history.
Due to the interference signals mixed between the radioactive dust and orbital debris, the last message Lowell sent never even reached the headquarters of the War Construction Committee...
On the Wasteland, "long-distance radio communication" barriers still persist to this day, and the Alliance relies on wired cables to achieve real-time signal interchange domestically and internationally.
Leaving the Chief of the Great Rift Valley behind, Absek looked lost, seeming to have understood yet at the same time not.
Glancing at the worried Internal Affairs Commissioner Wadia walking beside him, he suddenly chuckled and stroked his chin.
"That old man wanted to save my life..."
Wadia was taken aback, not understanding what his boss was saying, but remembering they were on other people’s territory, he quickly reminded with a forced smile.
"Mr. Leader...we’re in the Great Rift Valley now, calling their Head of State like that—"
"I know, it doesn’t matter, the old...the person doesn’t care," Absek waved his hand, interrupting what Wadia was about to say, "You just leave me alone for a bit, I want to quietly think it through, I’ll let you know if there are any arrangements."
He initially intended to visit Chu Guang, but then realized it wasn’t really necessary.
What difference would it make to see him?
The issues of the Poluo people must ultimately be resolved by themselves, they can’t keep running around looking for a savior.
Besides, no one could help them with such a large population, and those who could help had already done so.
Technology, funding, machinery, production methods, ideological enlightenment, local talent, even some "originally theirs, lost through their own means, sociological data"...
He really couldn’t think of anything else he could ask for on behalf of the survivors of Poluo Province.
If it’s still not enough, they’ll have to bring their Manager over.
Moreover, during this period before the meeting, the Manager from the Alliance should also have their own plans.
For example, discussions on post-war problems, the three former Legion Leaders and the Leader of Triumph City would have to meet, right?
Teil probably doesn’t have the guts to come, and even if he did, it’s pointless; he can see that the Southern Legion is about to lose.
Further, discussions would need to take place on ending the Wasteland Era, between the Chief Technical Officer of the Academy and the directors of Ideal City, they would need to meet, right?
The schedule is almost packed, better not add trouble for that gentleman.
Perhaps after the meeting, when there’s a chance, they could meet...
...
In a spacious bright room, a bruised and battered Zhou Xianlin was applying medicine to his wounds, attended by the old butler.
As the leader of the Dam Alliance, he had never suffered such humiliation—being pulled by his lapels and getting his lips busted.
That soldier in power armor shouldn’t have pulled him away.
He was so close to biting that guy’s ear off!
Unfortunately, in the end, he couldn’t show the River Valley People the bravery of the galloping horsemen.
The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. Zhou Xianlin, full of rage, glanced at the nearby old butler and said viciously,
"Where is the Red River Alliance? Mark them on the map for me! Damn these dog-like creatures, how dare they stick their nose in my face? Watch me not chop them up to feed the dogs!"
The old butler shivered, nearly spilling the iodine in his hand, sweating profusely as he spoke.
"Master... the Red River Alliance... they might really have fought the Looter, and whoever they have locked in the mine might actually be a Looter."
Zhou Xianlin paused, suddenly glaring at the old butler with a darkened face.
"...What do you mean? We haven’t fought with the Looter?"
"Yes, we have," the old butler quickly nodded, almost in tears, "I just meant... Chewing Bone Tribe is rather unique, unlike other Looters. Also, the Red River Alliance has an alliance garrison, although it’s said to be only a hundred or two, it’s still better not to provoke them."
Actually, the more challenging part is how to send people there.
You surely can’t take the Alliance’s train to go fight, right?
Fortunately this time, the young master finally understood and swallowed his pride.
Zhou Xianlin sneered.
"I thought, who are they... just a dog on a chain! Let’s say, it’s better to leave this chained dog for my elder brother to handle!"
Old butler: "..."
...
Elsewhere, in a meeting room carved from granite, the Imperial Guard of Triumph City and the Guard of the Alliance, after checking the room, exited outside and closed the door.
Inside the meeting room, only the Leader of Triumph City and the Manager of the Alliance remained.
At last, no third person was present, and the old soldier sitting in the golden tin can looked utterly exhausted, leaning back on the chair, only to "crack" it in two, almost tumbling backward onto the ground.
Meeting Chu Guang’s amused expression, he awkwardly scratched his head.
"Sorry... and made you laugh."
Chu Guang smiled faintly.
"No worries, I’ve seen it many times, and when I first wore power armor, I also broke quite a few chairs."
There were always players who treated him as an NPC, spouting nonsense and performing meta-art in front of him.
Some even confided every bizarre issue to him, treating him like a tree hollow, and some asked how to have a child with an NPC.
As early as the alpha version, he had already mastered the skill of "keeping a straight face".
After sitting down in another chair, this time, the old soldier did not lean back again, instead, placing his arms on the Table like Chu Guang.
No wonder professionals like the tin can, this posture indeed felt much more secure.
He sighed, wanting to say something but failing to find the words to start with, uttering a circuitous remark instead.
"To be honest, I’m not a good person; the Weilante people of Triumph City might be misunderstanding something. Thanks to the Forum... uh, I mean, thanks to my advisors, I’ve been managing to be an okay Leader, but I haven’t figured out the future steps at all. To tell you the truth, I’ve considered resigning more than once, or perhaps you could show me the way."
Seeing the Battlefield Atmosphere Group truly troubled rather than treating everything as a Game, Chu Guang smiled at his words, responding casually.
"There are no absolutely good people in this world, only bad people and those who have begun to examine their own hearts."
The Battlefield Atmosphere Group paused.
"...What do you mean?"
Chu Guang didn’t answer directly but instead locked eyes with him and countered with a question.
"Do you consider yourself a bad person?"
The Battlefield Atmosphere Group was confused for a moment, uncertain whether to claim he wasn’t.
Because he did obscure his identity, and to this day hasn’t figured out how to face Rezer’s test, to confess to the Weilante people in Triumph City.
He shook his head and said frankly.
"I don’t know."
A look of approval appeared in Chu Guang’s eyes, and he extended his right hand forward.
"When you tell me you don’t know, at least you’re no longer a bad person, or a ’bad Leader’... You should realize that you have started to examine your own heart."
The expression of surprise appeared on the face of the Battlefield Atmosphere Group, frowning and thinking for a moment, as if that was indeed the case.
In just half a minute, he reviewed his life... at least in the game world.
The true is false and the false is true... No matter the original intention is good or not, this Pangolin has lived up to his conscience and is seriously contemplating what conscience is.
He’s not the savior of the Weilante people, nor did he ever want to be their savior, he just did what he thought was right and what should be done.
For someone like him, a mixed reputation is well deserved, even if he sheds his disguise in front of all the Weilante people.
Seeing the hint of enlightenment in the eyes of the Battlefield Atmosphere Group, Chu Guang continued in a gentle voice.
"You will soon find your own flaws, mend them, and then climb out of the dry well that traps you... This is the necessary path of growth."
"You want to tell me that you’re not fit to be a Leader, but I think you’ve done very well already. Most people spend their whole lives discovering their own well, and even fewer try to climb out, but at least you’re on your way up."
He rarely spoke in such motivational tones, but the young player in front of him was like his child, and he truly watched this guy grow little by little.
Although the old and confused guy said a lot of nonsense, there was one sentence that really touched his heart.
He truly experienced the feeling of being a father, and he felt it a long time ago.
However, unlike the old man who recited "Good is the enemy of evil, blessings lie in misfortune" and threw his children to the wasteland for teaching, Chu Guang preferred to be a severe but sensible father.
That old man might be "accurate," having lived through countless cycles, he naturally saw the pattern of cycles as well.
But the children of the Alliance cannot go into the future with such void thinking.
They should stand at the position of the "changer," to see the unchanging mountains and rivers, the sun, moon, and stars, and create a new future that no one has seen before with more courage and vitality!
And this is Chu Guang’s expectation for the descendants of the Alliance.
This way, they would not have lived in vain...
"Maybe, I’m afraid of failing their trust." The Battlefield Atmosphere Group raised his head, staring at the ceiling.
Chu Guang, experienced with such troubles, smiled and said.
"Do you know why you’re afraid of failing their trust?"
The Battlefield Atmosphere Group instinctively replied.
"Why?"
Chu Guang hit the nail on the head.
"Because... you became Leader because of their trust, and this matter itself has no conspiracy to it, their trust was earned with sincerity, not through deception or by chance."
The eyes of the Battlefield Atmosphere Group lit up, but Xuan Jiu coughed again.
"Actually, I was trying to ask you for specific advice..."
"Sorry, all I can give you is encouragement," Chu Guang paused and said with a smile, "Why not seek advice from other Weilante people? Think about why you gained support and why they support you and not others."
"Once you figure it out, you can build a public speaking platform where you gave speeches, put up more mailboxes in places where they support you, stipulate that future Leaders should also openly speak their dreams and fulfill their promises, and what happens if they fail... these things you need to figure out yourself."
The Battlefield Atmosphere Group had a sudden realization, sat up straight and serious.
"I understand."
Chu Guang nodded.
"Now that you understand, let’s get down to business,"
The Battlefield Atmosphere Group was taken aback.
"Bus... Business?"
Wasn’t that just business?
Chu Guang nodded naturally and continued.
"Of course, you are the Leader of Triumph City, and I am the Manager of the Alliance, the people you represent are not fewer than mine... you don’t think a couple of warm-up chats were the business, do you?"
"...No, not really." Facing Chu Guang’s half-smiling expression, the Battlefield Atmosphere Group said against his better judgment.
Shouldn’t it be?
Moreover, if there really were something important, couldn’t a task be issued directly from the task bar...
Speaking of which, since last time when he responded with an "I’ve read," there hasn’t been any new messages for a long time.
Chu Guang did not joke with him, and after clearing his throat, he said.
"In order to reduce barriers, I propose that a long-term and effective dialogue mechanism should be established between Triumph City and City of Dawn, and I plan to lay a cable to Triumph City... we can bear the cost. It’s not just for now but also for the future."
The Battlefield Atmosphere Group nodded.
"No problem."
This was indeed a good thing.
He couldn’t always be this Leader; the next Leader wouldn’t have a "task bar" after all.
Chu Guang continued.
"Furthermore, as the exchanges between the East and West coasts of the Central Continent become more frequent, we plan to open a new sea route and build a railway directly to Triumph City. This railway will depart from Bister Town in Luo Xia Province, cross the Great Desert, and through the vast grasslands of the Eastern Empire, perhaps spreading the seeds of civilization to the places it passes... We are willing to bear 60% of the investment, and you only need to shoulder 40%. Considering your economic condition isn’t that strong, the Alliance’s bank could lend you the money first."
"No problem." The Battlefield Atmosphere Group found that he couldn’t join the conversation at all, only nodding in agreement.
Chu Guang looked seriously at him.
"Is there anything you’d like to add?"
The Battlefield Atmosphere Group was about to say no, but facing those sharp eyes, he swallowed his words back.
"The Welch Governorate has a large number of refugees, Batoya Province needs to be rebuilt... you know we don’t have money anyway. Since we’re already investing in the railway, why not invest in something else, we need to repair the roads in Triumph City anyway, how about you set up a development bank with some funds? This way, neither of us loses... how does the saying go, a win-win situation?"
Chu Guang nodded with a smile.
"That’s a good idea. I think not only we are interested, but businesses would love to help you too."
"Settled."
The Battlefield Atmosphere Group spread his hands, wanting to lean back in the chair but restrained himself just in time.
"Cough... Since we’ve discussed all the topics for the meeting now, what should we talk about when the Human Conference starts?"
To be honest, the only proposal he brought was indeed to "ask for money." Including Bennott, the ministers from the Civil Official Group had been whispering this to him since before he set off, asking him to find a way to get some funds from the Alliance.
As for the Manager’s proposal, he had understood it, summarizing it as "communication."
Eliminating differences through communication, eliminating barriers through communication, resolving hatred through communication... and this itself is also what the Weilante people must do moving forward.
He actually had no reason to shake his head.
Looking at the puzzled expression on the Leader’s face, Chu Guang continued to laugh.
"The answer is simple, speak your mind."
"The Grand Canyon is rarely so lively, with so many people coming, just talk about whatever you want to talk about."