This Game Is Too Realistic-Chapter 590.1: The Soil That Destroys Life
That loud voice was like an arrow piercing the clouds. At its command, all those bewildered, wooden faces suddenly seemed to find their backbone, and one after another, they erupted with indignation.
"That’s right! How can that work?!"
"Who’s going to schedule our work?!"
"Exactly!"
Among the flushed and shouting, there was also a snot-nosed, tearful old man who hobbled forward on his cane. Trembling, he pleaded with Quit Smoking. "Lord... You’re not from here, you don’t understand. Without a farm master, we’ll starve to death."
Quit Smoking was dumbfounded. "Wait... The farm master even taught you how to farm?"
He had seen that so-called master before.
He was a fool standing on the stairs pretending to be important, but he was moved around like a puppet by Luo Qian.
He didn’t seem like someone with any such ability at all!
The old men glanced at each other, then spoke humbly.
"No one needs to teach such rough work."
"But, lord, all we know is farming..."
"The master did take some away from us... but not much. The rest was enough for our families. Working his fields balanced it out. But if we have to go out into the wasteland, that will be the end. You don’t know what the mutants call us, they call us two-legged livestock!"
"That’s right! Outside is the wasteland... Without the master, will you take care of us?"
No sooner had the old man finished than one of the manor servants shouted in alarm.
"We don’t need you to take care of us! The young lady is still alive... She’s the new master of the farm!"
Realizing his slip, the old man quickly corrected himself, loudly declaring his loyalty.
"That’s right! G-Give the young lady back to us!"
The cries swelled at the gates.
The farm’s private guards watched silently from afar. They neither stood with the crowd nor came to help the New Alliance soldiers.
That was their order.
No matter if the nightmare the night before was the Torch Church’s doing or not, anyone who had experienced it never wanted to feel that leash on their necks again.
That power was so overwhelming it defied reason.
Once submerged into that indescribable dream, it was like a melody floated through the mind, and then the body was no longer their own.
Forget eating people. If the New Alliance had ordered them to eat excrement, they would have done so blissfully, gulping it down, only retching in disgust after waking.
And the device was still in the New Alliance’s hands.
Some even suspected they had already been brainwashed, and only didn’t realize it yet because the process wasn’t finished.
A few officers truly believed it.
That was why none dared step forward to claim the position of farm master, nor even ask about the young lady in the manor.
Whatever the New Alliance told them to do, they did. They carry out corpses, maintained order, but never more.
Watching the agitated crowd, Quit Smoking was dumbstruck. His jaws dropped but he was unable to utter a word.
He wanted to help them, not for any special reason.
He didn’t think like the administrator. He just thought they looked pitiful. He himself never wanted food or gear, and a single piece of his equipment was worth more than all their rags combined.
Putting it in gaming terms... Did a LV30 player need a reason to show off in a newbie village? Fulfilling self-worth was a kind of need too.
However, he had no idea how to help.
Zhao Tiangan was already dead.
The survivors here could have discussed together how to move forward. Whatever road they chose, they could at least take responsibility like adults.
Instead, they insisted on pushing all responsibility onto an eight year old girl who was still sulking with her friend after a childish quarrel.
In the real world, she wouldn’t even have finished elementary school.
Would everything magically improve just because someone bore the burden?
Would handing power to an imagined, omnipotent god really make bread fall from the sky?
What kind of idealism is this...
"This is your settlement..." Quit Smoking said helplessly.
"Didn’t you ever think... about running it yourselves?"
But his words were drowned in a deafening roar of protest.
He didn’t notice the pair of cold eyes in the crowd, watching it all with a faint, mocking smile.
It was as if the man had expected everything to play out the way it did! It was as if watching a clown teaching goats to sing.
He revealed a sneer filled with scorn.
...
In the Guesthouse.
In an empty room, the players held a strategy meeting, noisily discussing the intel they had just copied from the official site.
The administrator had given only one clue. The vast number of people who awakened in Pinecone Ranch were a hidden danger to the Torch Church’s plans.
And the Torch Church likely already knew, via spies inside, that the New Alliance was working on vaccines and antidotes.
To disrupt the New Alliance’s work and recover the uncollected data from the night before, the Torch Church would almost certainly launch another attack on this settlement.
As for the lore about the Sanctuary, Pathfinders, Apostles, and Executioners, the players had all learned it from the newly updated lore on the site.
Ample Time guessed this was the result of interrogating the captured Executioner and Apostle aboard the Heart of Steel.
But he hadn’t expected to be exactly right.
The Sanctuary really was a program running in virtual space.
And not only that, it was powered by a distributed network, formed from countless brains with implanted bionic chips linked together!
Night Ten rubbed his chin for a while, then suddenly exclaimed, "Shit... I get it now."
Gale shot him a look.
"What did you get this time?"
"Simple, it’s like Voldemort’s horcruxes! Splitting his soul, hiding pieces in other people’s heads!"
Falling Feather nearly choked on his spit. "Pfft... what a wild leap."
"But now that you say it, I kind of get it," Old White said, stroking his chin. "That means this settlement might be full of horcruxes... holy crap?"
At last he realized how serious it was, his face tightening.
Good god.
This is like the enemy had map-hacks turned on!
Ample Time looked grim as well, nodding slowly. "In theory, any NPC here can be Luo Qian’s eyes. Thankfully, unless they enter the Divine Trance, Luo Qian can’t directly control them. At most, he can whisper in their mind or twitch their eyelids."
The players fell silent. Even so, the cheat was still ridiculous.
"... The problem now is, we don’t know where the monsters will spawn. If there’s another tunnel under this settlement, we may end up fighting Mutant Humans in street battles."
As Ample Time struggled with the dilemma, Quit Smoking’s voice suddenly came over the public communication channel. "Have you guys decided yet?"
Ample Time instinctively answered, "Still discussing, it’ll take a while... why?"
Noise filled the channel, chaotic voices in the background.
Quit Smoking, sounding exasperated, said, "The survivors have blocked the manor gates... If we don’t do something, we might end up clashing with them first."
The words stunned Night Ten.
"They blocked the gate? What the hell?"
He wasn’t the only one confused, everyone else wore baffled expressions.
Knowing this wasn’t something to explain in a few words, Quit Smoking sent them a live video feed instead.
Seeing the throng of angry survivors, the players were dumbstruck.
"... Holy shit."
"Are they insane?"
Night Ten scratched his head in disbelief. "I don’t get it... what do they even want?"
The master was gone, wasn’t that a good thing?
But Ample Time looked calm, as if he had expected it. Seeing Night Ten’s confusion, he explained succinctly, "This is easy to understand. Imagine you’re a slave. The landlord dies. What’s your first thought?"
Night Ten answered at once, "Split the land, of course!"
Unsurprised, Ample Time smiled faintly. "You’re a 21st-century youngster, so of course you would think that. But these people don’t. They never believed the land was theirs. So for all sorts of reasons, they’ll want to install a new master, just to keep doing the same work."
Night Ten stared blankly, unable to comprehend why the death of the landlord meant finding another.
What, would the fields stop growing without one?
