The top guilds had already poured fortunes into the project, they weren’t throwing money away for nothing.

Once construction began, there would be endless building and exploration quests to post, and anyone who caught the wave could earn back their ticket cost in no time.

Player-posted jobs didn’t grant contribution points, but their silver coin rewards were 20 to 50% higher than NPC contracts. As a result, tickets for the Baiyue Strait flight sold out almost immediately.

Everyone waiting at the terminal shone with ambition. The opportunities in Clearspring City were mostly tapped out and it was time to gamble on a new world.

And it wasn’t just adventurers. Many Lifestyle Profession players and NPC artisans, factory owners, and workshop heads, had also come after hearing from the Wasteland Online forums and the Survivor’s Daily that the New Alliance planned to build a port in the south.

Sales agents swarmed the terminal, pitching products to the eager travelers.

“KV-2 Type 3 amphibious exoskeleton available! Walk through jungle, swamp, and shallows like solid ground! Come take a look!”

“A single LD-47 will solve your problems! If not, add an RPG! Even deathclaws will run the other way!”

“Hundreds of Prosperity Era shipwrecks in the Southern Seas, treasure piled high! Buy our diving gear now and get a free map! No guarantee you’ll find treasure, but you’ll find something!”

“Need excavators? We’ve got the best!”

“Seaplanes! Amphibious aircraft, goblin technology is cheap and reliable! Installment plans available! Even newbies can afford one!”

“Stinger exoframe and Spider Bots available, made in Shelter 100! Our machines can build things anywhere, even on the moon!”

The hawking was deafening, drowning out the shouts for party invites.

Their wares ranged from small arms to tanks and aircraft, from wrenches and drills to massive construction rigs.

Both Dawn City and Boulder Town factories were eyeing the same fragrant opportunity.

Unlike the thrill-seeking players, the factory owners were much more practical. Whatever the port would become, they’d need steel, cement, and equipment, visible, tangible demand.

As for the invisible demand? It was even greater.

Building that port wouldn’t just cost a few million silver coins, it would unlock a market worth billions. Even scraping a little cream off that cake would make them rich.

The chain reaction was something no one in the original thread had ever imagined...

...

In a corner of the crowd, staring at the chaotic scene, Night Ten turned to Ample Time, voice uncertain. “... Are we really sure about this?”

The Bull and Horse Squad’s investment had grown from 5,000,000 to 20,000,000 silver coins, and that was just the initial phase. The Baiyue Strait looked promising on a map, but it was still the wasteland.

Outside settlements, there was nothing but empty ocean for hundreds of kilometers. No busy trade routes, no population centers. Even with perfect geography, there was no traffic to support a port.

Even if they built it, who knew when they would ever break even?

Ample Time smiled. “Perspective, my friend. Think long-term. Two years ago, what was the north suburb of Clearspring City? What is it now?”

Night Ten scratched his head. “That’s not really the same, is it?”

“Why not?” Ample Time grinned. “Both were once part of the Federation, both once birthed civilization. They’re a wasteland now. But once we arrive, they won’t be.”

Dawn City had once been just a trade hub in River Valley Province’s southern corridor. Now it has become one of the central nexuses of the entire route. Traders once passed through for safety and convenience. Now, it was their destination.

Whoever built order in the wasteland became a beacon. And where the light burned, people and wealth followed.

The war in the Southern Seas, and the Xilande Empire’s unrest... Those were not threats, but opportunities. Just like the Bonechewer Clan’s uprising had been for the New Alliance.

As for mutants, toxins, or diseases in Baiyue Province... Please. Players had already cleared the Hive in the center of Clearspring City. Those were nothing to them.

...

While the southbound players queued for boarding, a hydrogen airship hovered above the terminal. Inside its elegant yet spartan cabin, a man in fine clothes looked down arrogantly at the bustling plaza. His name was Banteno.

The high bridge of his nose betrayed his pure-blooded Wislander heritage, and the star on his shoulder marked his rank. He was a One Star General! However, Banteno was no soldier, but a civil official from Triumphant City, leading not an army but a diplomatic mission fewer than a 100-man team strong.

In the Army, civilians ranked below officers, but Banteno’s pride was undiminished. To him, the natives beyond the walls of their city were hardly worth notice.

Watching the crowd below, a faint smirk curved his lips. “Are they here to welcome us?”

The man beside him winced slightly.

Staring down at the crowd, Pangolin had to hide his smile. Of course he knew what the crowd was doing. He read the forums daily after logging off, but now was not the time to show it.

“Seems that way,” he said flatly, keeping up his quiet, disciplined persona.

Banteno smiled, pleased with himself. “At least these savages have some manners.”

Battlefield Cheerleader sighed to himself. The reason he had even come was a long story.

He had been waiting at General Adelia’s base, ready to return to Triumphant City aboard the Adjudicator, when news came that the Marshal planned to send a diplomatic mission east, to negotiate with the New Alliance over Mutant Slime Mold control and formal relations.

Something about it had smelled off. And sure enough, the envoy needed a guide familiar with the River Valley Province, preferably a local.

By coincidence, or misfortune, the appointed envoy, Banteno, happened to be Penny’s father.

Battlefield Cheerleader didn’t know whether that kind-hearted girl had put in a good word for him, but somehow the assignment letter had landed on his desk.

When he received the order, he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He had been this close to finally seeing Triumphant City. It wasn’t that he wanted to go back, but after so many months undercover, it had become his last shred of motivation.

The war between the New Alliance and the Army had ended over half a year ago. Clearspring City had gone through multiple expansions by now, but he was still stuck out here.

Still, it wasn’t all bad.

As the envoy’s guide, he’d been promoted. His shoulder patch bore another line.

He even received a T-10 Champion exoframe as a reward for his service.

The doggy developer hadn’t broken his promise, after all. He might have missed several version updates, but the exoframe made up for it. Even his old boss, Cowley, was jealous, rising from a potato-peeling orderly to a commander in a year was no small feat.

Especially when he got an exoframe! Even Cowley hadn’t even gotten one for himself!

As Battlefield Cheerleader stared wistfully at the homeland he had once known, the adjutant behind Banteno cleared his throat softly. “Sir Banteno, we’re here to discuss cooperation with the New Alliance. The Marshal attaches great importance to this. Please... restrain yourself a little.”

Banteno’s face twitched with irritation, though he kept his voice level. “I know. You don’t need to tell me how to do my job.”

The adjutant murmured, “I hope so.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Battlefield Cheerleader noticed Banteno’s brow twitch sharply, but he swallowed his anger.

That alone was surprising.

Who is this adjutant, really?

He had been with the envoy for a while now, long enough to know everyone’s identity and background, except that man’s. All he knew was that the adjutant’s name was Quick, that he too was a commander, and had one more line on his shoulder than him.

Whether officer or bureaucrat, which department he hailed from, what faction he served, Battlefield Cheerleader had no idea.

If only other players were still active in Triumphant City, someone could dig around and message him on the forums...

Watching Banteno’s stiff smile and Quick’s calm composure, Battlefield Cheerleader’s instincts stirred.

That man was definitely hiding a secret, and it was something big. His gut told him it might be tied to the Slime Mold Research Committee rumor that had been spreading across the forums lately.

Perhaps he should do something, something to ease the burden for the esteemed administrator.