This Game Is Too Real-Chapter 784: Duke Nihak Who Would Go Through Fire and Water for His Friends

"Mr. Li Minghui, we are friends, right?"

While Li Minghui was drinking tea and watching a play in the Presidential Mansion’s office, he suddenly received a strange "nuisance call."

The reason it was called a nuisance wasn’t because of the caller’s identity, but because the caller used an internal line and asked such a bizarre question.

It was no less surprising than if his pillow talk partner, during his working hours, suddenly messaged him to ask if he still loved her.

"Of course... Has there been any accident during the exercises?"

He subconsciously glanced at his schedule, and it seemed that today, aside from a landing exercise on the northern beaches by the Union Burning Corps, there was nothing else noteworthy.

However, Mr. Fang’s next sentence was unexpected.

"No, the exercise is going smoothly, but I noticed that you plan to sell a battleship similar to ’Haiya’ to the Empire. Although this call might be redundant, I still wanted to confirm the issue with the main gun. The shelter is a rescuing agency, and we don’t want technology we discovered to be used for—"

"Oh—, about that matter," Li Minghui suddenly realized and chuckled, "you don’t need to worry about that; we have no interest in causing trouble for ourselves."

After all, wasn’t this guy a board member of the North Island Heavy Industries? How did he not know about such a huge arms sale project?

How interesting is it to knowingly ask such questions—

Wait.

Li Minghui suddenly realized.

Could it be that it was actually the Alliance Managers who were inquiring?

The more he thought about it, the more possible it seemed, especially since Mr. Fang’s intelligence wouldn’t allow him to overlook such evident facts.

After all, this deal wasn’t something the South Sea Union could decide on its own; the authorities were just facilitating and brokered this huge deal, taking a cut from the advance payment (tax). When to deliver, whether to deliver, and whether the ship hull leaked or not was ultimately up to the shipyard, wasn’t it?

Moreover, stepping back ten thousand steps, once the survivors of Poluo Province truly united, so what if they were shipped the order?

By then, the real headache would belong to the enemies of the survivors, such as the Weilante folks who still dreamed of conquering the world, not the already united survivors of River Valley Province or those in the Southern sea area.

Thinking this, he immediately switched to a formal tone, cleared his throat, and said seriously,

"In our view, the Empire’s reputation lies between a Torch and Charles. We have no reason to deliver equipment to the current Empire that might threaten us. But from my position, it’s hard to refuse money that comes our way; we need money, it’s that simple... Also, send my regards to your manager; survivors from the South Sea Union are always welcome to visit the Southern sea area."

Mr. Fang probably guessed he was misunderstanding something, but he didn’t clarify, merely responding with a light laugh.

"I understand. I wish you well in life. Also, I’ll convey your greetings to Mr. Manager; he has always wanted to visit here too, but I’m afraid he’ll have to wait until after the war."

The call ended.

Mr. Fang smiled, picked up the exaggeratedly titled newspaper, handed it back to the stunned Mosquito, then lightly tapped on the VM, ending the voice synchronization.

"This game’s NPCs are more realistic and smarter than you’d think... of course, Duke Nihak is an exception, he represents another kind of reality."

Thinking not all NPCs were smart, Mr. Fang added a note, cleared his throat, and continued,

"Maybe it’s an issue with education, or maybe the slaves of Poluo Province have spoiled him, but for now, he can’t understand that civilization is a product under negotiation. Instead, he sees it as something naturally right. He thinks his cunning is invisible, treats others as fools; in fact, everyone can see it, they just don’t bother to point it out and subtly retaliate... It’s that simple."

He recorded the conversation.

Although he felt that the manager probably knew everything, he still chose to report proactively to prevent unnecessary misunderstandings.

After all, he really didn’t want to be called back by Little Fish for questioning.

Mosquito was dumbfounded for a while before genuinely raising his thumb.

"Awesome! That’s really cunning..."

"I’ll take that as a compliment," Mr. Fang replied with a mild smile, took the Mojito from the waiter thanking him, and continued casually,

"To answer your earlier question, I have never thought about being their godfather, but as you see... at least until their wings are strong, they do indeed have to call me ’Dad.’"

Just as the manager declared that day, the currency of the Union could buy any commodity, but no money should ever trade for honor and dignity.

Think you’re up for it?

Then give it a try.

...

For Duke Nihak, 30 billion West Winds Dinars and fifty million silver coins were trivial.

After all, even if he lost Jin Galun Port, he remained the esteemed Duke, at most just without a governor’s title.

However, for the survivors of Tiger State and Leopard State, especially those who bought Union brand sewing machines for their workshops, and for those workers who almost smoked their sewing machines with overuse, it was a tormentingly painful cut at their finances, with both their metaphorical kidneys bleeding.

The market of White Tiger City.

The usually bustling stalls were even more "lively" this time, as a group of middle-aged men and young fellows in long tunics and short jackets crowded in front of an empty stall.

Some were nearby tailoring shop owners, some were tailors working for the local lords, and others were employees from nearby garment factories.

These people varied in height, weight, skin tone, and demeanor, displaying more diversity than between cattle and humans, yet their expressions were strikingly similar—all wore a look of righteous indignation.

An authoritative old man led the group, trembling in fury as he pointed at the white characters on a blackboard.

"Fifty West Winds per kilogram of cotton cloth?! Have you gone mad with greed?!"

Seeing someone taking the lead, the crowd roared in agreement.

"Exactly!"

"Too much!"

"Everyone here runs a business, how can you be so unreasonable!"

The clerk sitting behind the stall, indifferent, glanced at the old tailor and then at the group of hecklers behind him, annoyed, he said.

"Reasonable? Heh, you think it’s expensive today at fifty, just wait until it increases to sixty tomorrow and see what you’ll have to say then. Take it or leave it at this price!"

The crowd around the stall buzzed with outrage at his words, but the clerk sitting behind didn’t seem scared at all and even picked his ear.

Two burly men stood beside the stall, like two fierce tigers, glaring at the survivors making them afraid to speak up.

White Tiger City was the largest settlement in Tiger State, and the fabric market there was the largest textile market in the entire state. Could anyone run a business here without some connection to the big shots in the Tiger Army?

Dream on!

However, it was truly strange. The price of fabric hadn’t always been this ludicrous. Cotton was priced between 10 and 15 West Winds per kilogram—doubling after being processed into fabric made it 20-30 West Winds, sold to Jingga Lun Port’s merchants for 16 to 24 Gallons, and occasionally settled in silver coins.

That is to say, a kilogram of cotton fabric at 1.6~2.4 silver coins.

The textile industry was the first industry to flow into Tiger State from Jingga Lun Port, and the cheap yet fine cotton fabric of Tiger State had supported half of Jingga Lun Port’s thriving export trade.

Recently, however, something unknown had transpired. A vast horde of merchants from Jingga Lun Port had suddenly flooded in, stuffing bags full of West Winds coins into his boss’s hands, buying up the textile factory’s entire stock and even reserving next year’s orders.

Those guys acted as if the money wasn’t their own, seemingly obtained through some cheap trick.

Though merchants from Jingga Lun Port are famously rich in the eyes of the survivors of Tiger State, they had never been this frenzied before.

The exchange rate between Gallon and West Winds, although unofficial, was commonly accepted as four Gallons for five West Winds.

The merchants’ West Winds must have been exchanged using Gallons, unless they had accessed a cheaper rate from a bank or somewhere else.

He was just a clerk, of course unaware of where those merchants got so many West Winds, but he heard that the money was indeed issued by the royal family.

Worried that they would not accept it, the merchants even brought proof from the disbursing banks, which was more than enough to certify that the money was clean without any faults.

Although odd, business that came knocking couldn’t be refused, so the complete stock of Tiger State’s textile mills was sold out.

Generally, the fabrics that flowed into the market from textile mills were leftover pieces picked over by garment factories, but this time the textile mills had been completely squeezed dry by the flood of West Winds, so naturally, the price of fabric in the market had to rise as well.

After some noisy shoving in front of the stall, ultimately no one dared to make trouble on the turf of the military faction and could only swallow their displeasure.

Some servants, who were buying fabric to make clothes for their masters, readily handed over the money since it wasn’t theirs to worry about in the first place, and their masters were certainly not short of cash.

Some small shop owners, after doing their calculations, discovered that with these prices, making clothes would lead to a loss and hence walked away cursing.

There were also those who heard that the price of fabric would continue to rise and thought it a good opportunity for speculation, so they quickly pulled out their West Winds coins to buy.

Even more passerby residents buzzed with the rumour, wondering if something big had happened again in Mammoth City. Some even spread news in panic about General Arai Yang’s defeat at the frontlines claiming that the fabric was in such high demand for wrapping bodies and creating bandages, which caused the price to shoot up to the sky.

However, this analysis seems overly simplistic.

After all, it wasn’t just the price of cloth that was rising, but also sugarcane, granulated sugar, soybeans, corn, and all sorts of other messy commodities were surging.

Some people cursed the Moon people, believing it was their "unclean blood" that had cursed the Empire’s fortune, and that only by using their blood in a great ritual could the curse be undone.

Others cursed the merchants of Jingga Lun Port, since those who profiteer from disaster indeed lack morals and the origins of this West Winds currency were surely not respectable.

Some insightful individuals bewilderingly cursed Chu Guang, the Alliance Manager who was commanding from the front lines in Haiya Province.

The reason they were considered insightful was because those who hadn’t read a few second-hand newspapers wouldn’t likely know the name of the Alliance Manager.

The bitterness of being in a cocoon room stemmed from a lack of channels to obtain information. Sometimes, one could feel a slap but not know where on their body the slap had landed,

or even from where the slap had come.

Meanwhile, on the outskirts of White Tiger City,

in an area of about ten acres, hundreds of pedal-operated sewing machines were crammed into a factory, their "lulu" noise continuously reverberating throughout.

Named "Farghan," this garment factory was established by a Tiger Clan merchant named Farghan. It was not only the largest garment factory in White Tiger City but also one of the earliest factories in Tiger State.

Two months ago, Colonel Jieha Wan of the Tiger army had spent a small amount of money to buy this factory and then invested an additional ten million gallons to purchase equipment from Jingga Lun Port, thus expanding the production scale of the factory.

And the factory did not disappoint General Jieha’s expectations.

Today, one-fifth of towels, curtains, beddings, and shirts used by residents of Jingga Lun Port were produced here.

The Tiger Clan merchant who sold the factory probably deeply regretted it now.

The factory was like a money-printing machine, steadily supplying cash milk to the Tiger Army. As a result, the Tiger Army, just like the garrison of Jingga Lun Port, had upgraded to the Alliance’s full-fledged LD-47 uniforms, a gear that was far superior to that of the Grey Wolf Army.

While the laborers almost seemed to wish their sewing machines would fly from furiously pedaling them, the factory’s accountant was similarly pressing the calculator rapidly, meticulously tallying the accounts in the ledger.

Although the goods exported from Tiger State to Jingga Lun Port earned the foreign currency, Gallon, this Gallon couldn’t be directly used in Tiger State.

Whether it’s the Dinar, the silver coin, or the Gallon, it all needed to be "settled" before it could truly be deposited into the factory’s accounts in the bank of White Tiger City.

After all, unlike the South Sea Union which experienced "base currency collapse," neither Gallon nor silver coin could legally circulate within the Empire’s territory; at most, they were used privately.

The factory could use the foreign exchange surplus to purchase equipment from Jingga Lun Port, but it had to exchange Gallons for West Winds currency in order to buy raw materials within the Empire and pay its workers.

Therefore, one routine task for the accountant each month was to reference the bank’s remittance records to confirm which portions of Gallon were to be settled and which were used for equipment purchases or to pay the fees of outsourced technicians.

The Bank in White Tiger City was relatively lenient with foreign exchange management mainly because military factions didn’t understand much about it and generally delegated this responsibility.

And those who were delegated often didn’t understand either, so they just copied the model from Jingga Lun Port, watching how those who prospered first handled it, and then doing the same.

This was why industrial owners could generally decide for themselves when to settle their foreign exchange and how much to settle, to avoid having to report to the bank when they needed silver coins.

However, this month was quite bizarre.

First, the garment factory received payments that were forcibly settled at last month’s exchange rate in West Winds currency. Then the profits listed in the ledger had dropped from more than 10 million West Winds currency at the beginning of the month to a negative two million — shocking the elderly accountant.

The first issue wasn’t really a problem. The garment factory was owned by military factions, and the money houses that handled the settlements were also run by military leaders in Tiger State.

Those lords just kept moving money from one hand to the other; he didn’t care much. As long as he knew where the money was going, it was fine since it remained within the lords’ reach.

What really concerned him was the second issue.

How did the profits disappear?

"What’s going on...where’s the money?"

Why was it that the more they produced, the poorer they became?

The elderly man was utterly confused. He licked his fingers and tried to remain calm as he flipped through the ledger repeatedly until he finally spotted something in the raw materials cost.

Within just one month, the price of cotton had doubled, and even the usually stable linen had jumped by eighty percent.

The profits from the first half of the month were completely eaten up by the raw materials price increase in the second half, no wonder they ended up losing two million West Winds currency by the month’s end.

This was no small matter.

At least there had been some profits in the first half of the month, so the total loss was relatively small.

But if this trend continued, next month they might lose twenty million West Winds currency, and they could go bankrupt in six months!

The accountant was sweating from anxiety and was about to get up and go find the factory manager when the shift supervisor suddenly knocked on the door and entered, speaking cautiously to the man sitting behind the desk.

"Sir...the workers are clamoring for their wages. Can we please settle their payments first?"

Normally, owing a week or two of wages wasn’t a big deal. The long-term, free employees were quite resilient and sympathetic towards the lord.

However, something recent had changed; the entire White Tiger City, except for red soil, saw a price hike, even the soybean meal for feed had increased.

The accountant’s expression stiffened, his butt had just left the chair when he sat back down and glared at the supervisor.

"I haven’t finished my calculations yet. What’s the rush!"

The supervisor’s face was full of woe as he spoke.

"Sir, it’s not me rushing you, I’m not in a hurry... It’s the workers who are getting anxious."

Impatiently waving his pen, the accountant pretended to be busy.

"Tell them to keep working. General Jieha’s vast enterprise won’t miss this bit of money. If they want to work, they work; if not, they can leave. Don’t disturb me while I’m counting money."

The supervisor, deeply aggrieved but not daring to say more, bowed his head and left the office.

For the entire day, the entire White Tiger City seemed cursed, from the small cloth traders to the large factories, a scene of woe.

Workers were busy from dawn to dusk, accountants from dusk till dawn, yet no one could figure out where the West Winds currency had gone.

Except for the plantation owners who sold cash crops like cotton and sugarcane and the nobles in the estates.

Being at the beginning or the top of the supply chain, they were the least impacted, or rather, they were the biggest beneficiaries of this round of "intentional inflation."

But that was only for now.

Soon, they would find that the original price of 100 West Winds currency for fertilizer would spike two to three times, and the second wife’s purchased artwork and cosmetics would also multiply in price.

These items were temporarily imported from Jingga Lun Port using foreign currency.

Beyond the plantations, there were weavers and sugarmakers.

These relatively upstream big factories were somewhat okay as they could transfer a portion of the costs to the downstream weaving and food processing industries.

However, this spelled misery for the downstream industries, the further down, the colder the biting chill they felt.

Especially for those small shopkeepers who needed silver coins to expand production and compete for foreign trade orders with merchants from Jingga Lun Port, their ordeal would be particularly prolonged.

After all, the 30 billion West Winds currency loan was just the first cut of Duke Nihak’s "self-castration", the prepayment of 50 million silver coins for ships was the most brutal, making small shopkeepers in Tiger and Leopard State who were still in the primitive accumulation stage busy for nothing for half a year.

Nihak’s action had drained the Empire’s Royal Mint of its foreign reserves, predicting an ongoing expenditure of ten million silver coins every month.

The Royal Mint, unable to produce enough silver coins, had to save money by tightly shutting off the tap, reducing the quota for exchanging West Winds currency for silver coins in banks all along the Everflow River.

The banks in White Tiger City, holding West Winds currency, could no longer get silver coins, not even meeting the conversion needs of the military lords’ own factories, let alone fulfilling those of small workshops and shopkeepers in Tiger State.

They not only closed the channel for these little sparrows to convert silver coins but also confiscated their silver coins, forcibly converting them to West Winds currency.

Some technically proficient small workshops were on the verge of evolving into factories, but before they could start competing with the factories in Jingga Lun Port or be picked by military lords, they exploded right on the spot.

A minority of bankrupt business owners turned their eyes to the distant Mammoth State, hearing it was issuing its own currency like Jingga Lun Port and welcoming merchants from all regions to invest.

If they brought equipment, they could use it as collateral for a low-interest loan.

They could even borrow silver coins.

Although still under military rule, the local area had its advantages: closer proximity to Silver Moon Bay and the presence of a district managed by the Silver Moon Church.

Those fond of cats didn’t just open churches there, but also ran banks.

Even if Mammoth State had uncertainties from war and had just experienced flooding, the prospect of collateralizing equipment for loans of silver coins was too enticing...

Ultimately, the Empire’s foundation was simply too weak.

The embargo had been lifted only a few months earlier, but if decades of accumulated wealth were mobilized, the explosion might not have erupted so quickly.

Even if an explosion was bound to happen, it would have taken ten or twenty years of effort to detonate slowly.

The shock to the industrial chain’s ecosystem was immense, and the turbulence in the "food chain" was no different.

Big fish, when hungry, ate little fish, and little fish, when hungry, devoured tiny shrimp, ultimately the microorganisms and mayflies suffered.

Serfs could at least drink soup with their master, while the free residents working in factories couldn’t find land even if they wanted to return to farming.

The red soil, previously near unsalable, began to sell well again, and the empty wasteland saw an increase in soil gatherers.

They were actually still lucky.

Beyond Tiger State and Leopard State, the state of other areas was unknown even to the residents of Jin Galun Port at the end of the Everflow River.

However, all of this had no impact whatsoever on the sunny and serene South Sea Union.

The generous Archduke Nihak became the hottest figure in North Island.

Survivor’s Daily, newly established in North Island, dedicated an issue to him, lavishing praise on his thirty billion donation, and lauded his residing on a ship as a paragon of thrift and simplicity.

Li Minghui dubbed him the "Long Days Ahead" of Poluo Province, but after facing protests from the ID holder himself, the title in the newspaper was changed to General McLen of Poluo Province.

It seemed improbable that Weilante People would travel to the distant East over such tripe.

Moreover, the survivors of Poluo Province had a severe infatuation with Weilante People, making this flattery even more resonant than the previous one.

Everyone wants their time in the limelight before their burial, and the empire’s archduke was no exception.

During this period, Nihak was so elated every day that he looked as if he had been injected with chicken blood, and he even stopped fearing those who had once captured him.

Although winter had just started showing the tip of its tail, he felt that he, along with the empire’s spring, had arrived together.

While the military faction heads of Tiger and Leopard States were scratching their heads, bewildered as to where their money had vanished to, far on the front lines in Mammoth State, General Arai Yang was equally perplexed.

However, the latter wasn’t perplexed because of money but because his troops were being relentlessly beaten by an elusive guerrilla team, completely disoriented.

The fierce firepower had him believing for a moment that the Union itself had entered the fray!

It wasn’t just the firepower.

The numbers of the resistance fighters also grew more numerous and cunning as the combat continued.

Initially, the skirmishes were confined to the border of Mammoth State, but later, guerrilla sightings began in Horse State and Bird State too.

These people specifically targeted the Grey Wolf Army’s supply lines, causing those transporting supplies to avoid traveling at night and to refrain from displaying the royal Double Knife Flag.

More ominously, his scouts discovered that the rebels had built a Deepwater Harbour and a railway connecting to it in Mammoth City.

Upon hearing this, Arai Yang nearly choked with rage.

Where on earth did these curs get so much steel and cement?

Could it be provided by the Union as well?

Was that bastard Laxi an illegitimate son of an Alliance Manager?

While he was fuming, his confidant handed him a confidential letter that patrolling soldiers had found on the front lines.

[...To General Arai Yang:

With your talents, you could easily establish your own domain, so why sacrifice your promising years for a dying empire?

The empire is already a lost cause, all credited to Witch Gu’s blunders.

If you come to me, not only will I spare your life, but I also offer you the position of Colonel in the resistance. If you don’t trust me, you may choose any state to settle in as long as you leave me unchallenged, and I assure you that my men will not step foot into your territory.]

Upon reading the letter, Arai Yang gritted his teeth furiously.

"This treacherous cur!"

To think merely winning a few battles could make him so arrogant!

He crushed the letter into a ball and hurled it onto the candlestick, unintentionally knocking it over, nearly setting the command tent on fire.

Although the fire was extinguished, an air of unease spread through the Grey Wolf Army.

An increasing confusion tormented everyone in the empire, from the front lines to the rear, while the Survivor’s Daily in Jin Galun Port buzzed with ever more vehement shouts. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

A massive and unprecedented tide was brewing amid the clamorous waves, a force more powerful than nuclear weapons—

It was the energy of progress!

Even Yoder, who once advised Laxi to stay behind, had to admit after reading the newspaper that perhaps he had been mistaken.

The man who stood up when everyone else bowed their heads in silence, the man who dared to reach for a weapon while others meekly endured oppression—how could he be a mere reckless fool?

Just like the Union officers joked—do weeping day and night kill Witch Gu?

In the end, it was he who stood up.

Maybe the expectations placed on him were too harsh.

In the deep silence of the night, Yoder couldn’t help but think this, regretting not having shared a drink with him during his tenure.

The province of four million square kilometers was amidst turmoil.

But just before that storm finally arrived, another even more intense and widespread storm arrived first.

After two months of preparation, the horn for the southern offensive was sounded once again!