nucmednet Chapter 101: Perhaps it's Sky City?
Chapter 101: Perhaps it's Sky City?
Accompanied by the clanging of ancient machine tools, birdsong, fragrant flowers, and night owls covered in mud emerged from the dark passage.
The two walked straight up to Lynn.
Amidst the birdsong and fragrant flowers, he didn't even bother to wipe the dirt off his face; his voice was filled with undisguised excitement.
"Boss, that's a real piece of meat down there! The wagons are loaded with huge timber and iron ore, the quantity is terrifying. But the guards escorting the wagons are all emaciated and pale from hunger, even the giant beasts pulling the wagons are gnawing on rocks. These guys are clearly here looking for food!"
From the player's perspective, these are simply a group of mobile resource packs that come to deliver high-level materials for free.
The Night Cat, standing to the side, showed no sign of relaxation. He brushed the decaying leaves off his shoulder, his brows furrowed, and his voice filled with doubt.
"Lynn, something's wrong with the City in the Woods."
Night Owl said in a deep voice, "There is absolutely no trace of advanced civilization there. They used rough stone discs as wheels and used heavy iron chains to tether wild beasts to pull the carts. It was a completely primitive underground city-state."
He raised his head and looked directly into Lynn's eyes: "If the City in the Forest can't even solve its basic needs for food and clothing, and its basic technology is worse than that of a slum in an abandoned city... then where did that anti-gravity airship that landed in Pearl Harbor come from?"
The envoy, who carried the banner of the Treasure Island Trade Arbitration Committee and wore an exquisite silk dress, now seems like an absurd paradox to Night Owl.
How could underground refugees, who can't even manufacture wheels with bearings, possibly send out envoys who control aerial navigation technology?
After hearing the report, Lynn calmly looked at the flickering brazier, but he already understood.
Memories of games from my past life surged through my mind.
He knew very well that the so-called arbitration committee was most likely not a scam, but rather came from the sky city above Treasure Island, that city high in the clouds. There was nowhere else that could house such an airship.
However, knowing the answer is meaningless.
The current outpost in the ruined capital has to carefully budget even for a decent meal. To plunge headlong into the power struggles of a higher dimension would undoubtedly be suicide.
One must eat one bite at a time. Right now, the most practical thing to do is to feed this underground caravan that is about to starve to death.
"Things in the heavens are too far removed from us now." Lynn pulled himself out of his thoughts. "Now that the fat meat on the ground has been delivered to our mouths, there's no reason for us to spit it out."
Meanwhile, at the camp's respawn point.
One hundred new players faced their first beating after the protection period ended.
In this 100% realistic MapleStory world, stamina can no longer be recovered simply by logging off and sleeping.
The sharp, stabbing pain of stomach cramps, accompanied by a feeling of weakness in the limbs, was clearly transmitted to the nerve endings of everyone.
"Sir, could you make an exception for me? I have a beautiful, glowing stone that I dug up from the ground. It's all-natural and pollution-free. How about I exchange it for half a spoonful of your paste?"
A newbie, trembling with hunger, lay on the wooden table where rations were being distributed, trying to curry favor with the old aboriginal man who was missing half an ear by using a broken stone he had dug out of the ground.
The old man stared at him expressionlessly, tapping the edge of the empty iron pot twice with the broken wooden spoon in his hand, making a crisp, ringing sound. Then, he pointed to the side.
There, a rough wooden sign had been erected at some point.
The newbie looked in the direction the finger was pointing and saw a few lines of text crookedly written on the wooden sign with charcoal sticks:
Black bread: 2 credits/bread.
Inferior meat paste: 1 credit/bowl.
Resurrection cooldown exemption: 50 credits.
Bed rental: 3 credits/day.
All the free terms were gone, and the cruel survival rules were transformed into cold, hard numbers, slapped directly in the faces of these players who were used to getting things for free.
Lynn slowly emerged from the shadows of the workshop, and the noise in the camp gradually subsided.
Pairs of eyes, filled with hunger and longing, all turned to the lord, waiting for the release of the Xiyao welfare mission.
"Territory does not support idlers."
Lynn's voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly to every corner of the basement: "The three days of free rations are over. If you want to survive here, you have to follow my rules."
"The insignia on your arms will record your credit points. You can earn these points by clearing landslides in the sewers, hauling scrap metal in the mines, or working as an assistant in the workshops. These credit points are the only proof that you can eat, sleep, and even rebuild your physical body here."
At this point, Lynn pulled a shiny gold coin out of his pocket.
The coin traced an arc in the dim firelight and landed on the wooden table beside him with a crisp metallic hum.
"This is Maple Leaf Coin, the hard currency of Treasure Island."
Lynn scanned the crowd. "I don't need you to exchange credits for this. You can take your surplus resources, such as refined coarse salt or weapons that the workshop is about to forge, and trade them with the natives outside. How much you earn depends entirely on your own abilities."
This is the case with the dual-track system of Maple Leaf Coins and Credits.
Domestically, they locked up cheap labor by providing essential supplies. Externally, they encouraged these ravenous players to plunder the wealth of the indigenous people.
Faced with such harsh working conditions, this group of Fourth Calamities not only did not organize a protest, but instead seemed to have found the correct strategy for the game.
Hunger did not defeat them; it only triggered their innate instinct for involution.
"Brothers! For rice! Charge!"
"The mine is hiring! As long as you're not afraid of hard work, you can earn a black bread loaf in half a day!"
"The workshop needs laborers to carry steel! First come, first served!"
The newlyweds' eyes lit up, like a pack of hungry wolves released from their cages, howling as they charged toward the rock-strewn mine and Elliott's workshop.
Inside the underground workshop, the furnace was burning brightly.
Elliott's gloom vanished as he watched the large influx of fresh laborers. He waved his rough hands and, speaking in broken Chinese, loudly gave orders.
"You! Move that black iron over here! Put it upright!"
"And you, pull that lever! Pull hard!"
With the combined efforts of several players, a heavy piece of black steel obtained from the Warriors' Tribe was successfully inserted into the tool's mounting slot.
The cutting blades of the ancient machine tool spun rapidly under the power of magic.
With a piercing scraping sound, the sharp blade cut into the hard black steel, sending sparks flying everywhere in the dimly lit workshop. Perfectly sized, rough-hewn sword blades were precisely cut off and placed in an iron basket to the side.
The first magic production line in the abandoned city officially began its devouring and production amidst the clamor of players trying to fill their stomachs.
Meanwhile, in the darkest passage deep within the ant cave, the sound of heavy stone wheels crushing the water on the ground was approaching step by step, carried by the air currents.