70: Chapter 70 Fire Coin

Early morning at the Fire Seed Shelter was noisier than ever before.

On the open ground of the surface camp, a hundred newly recruited Indigenous Guards were sweating profusely under the scorching sun.

Serving as temporary instructors, Liver Emperor and several veteran player ex-soldiers held wooden rods, ruthlessly correcting their tactical movements.

"Chest out! Stomach in! Keep your guns steady!"

Liver Emperor shouted at the top of his lungs,

"Even if a stampeding mutant rhino is right in front of you, if anyone dares to retreat a single step without my command, you'll only have gruel for dinner tonight!"

Although the soldiers couldn't understand what Liver Emperor was yelling, they could tell from his tone that it wasn't anything good.

They clenched their teeth, their hands death-gripping the rifles that had just come off the factory line, not daring to blink even as sweat blurred their vision.

Though the instructors usually seemed easygoing, the ruthlessness they showed during training was chilling.

On the other side of the camp, sparks flew within several workshops constructed from canvas and sheet metal.

"Beep—!"

Following a crisp electronic chime, a burst of enthusiastic cheering erupted from the newly built, towering concrete watchtower in the center of the camp.

"Signal tower test successful! Full-band coverage!"

Second-hand Old A6, who was in charge of debugging, shouted excitedly over the walkie-talkie.

With this signal tower, the players' Pip-Boys and Niuma brand terminals could achieve lag-free communication and map sharing within a twenty-kilometer radius of the Shelter, no longer needing to rely on manual legwork to deliver messages as before.

Inside the exclusive workshop of Goblin Tech, several two-wheeled motorcycles with a distinct wasteland style sat quietly on the ground.

"Man, this is so damn cool."

Ming Shen wiped his sweat and touched the metal-cased battery on the motorcycle, which was about the size of a thermos flask.

"These [Solid-state Hydrogen Batteries] packaged using the Dwarven equipment might not have the output power of the two original models bought from the mall, but their advantage lies in low cost. As long as we have high-purity water and some composite materials, we can produce them continuously."

"Dwarven technology is indeed top-notch."

ikun True Fan patted the bike seat.

"But this tech tree is somewhat nonsensical. Rubbing together some water and scrap metal to make high-energy batteries? Has physics ceased to exist?"

Ming Shen rolled his eyes.

"You wouldn't know, but a so-called Solid-state Hydrogen Battery is usually a combination of a solid-state hydrogen storage module and a fuel cell—a proton-exchange membrane assembly. The materials really are just these things. What surprises me is that the game's production team clearly has technical advisors who know their stuff; the details are right, even if the implementation is a bit perfunctory."

ikun was somewhat shocked to hear this: "You actually know about this? You're not working on this research topic, are you?"

Ming Shen shook his head: "With Earth's current technology, just the step of producing metal hydrides is a dead end. It's hard."

"Anyway, this Ghostfire Type 1 is considered to have passed the test."

ikun waved his hand grandly.

"Notify the production line to start mass production! Next time, let's try to make a motorized tricycle for hauling goods!"

The perspective returned to the main control room on the third underground level.

After a workout, Lin Li sat in a wide chair to rest, feeling very satisfied as he watched the increasingly prosperous scenes of the camp on the holographic screen.

With the help of Vaughn the Dwarf's packaging machine, the Shelter had officially begun to step into the electrified era.

But he soon discovered a new problem.

"The backgrounds of the personnel in the camp are too complex now."

Lin Li tapped his fingers on the desk.

"There are the original indigenous miners, the refugees recruited later, the nomads, and of course, this lawless bunch of players."

"If the original inhabitants only rely on contribution points to exchange for survival materials, or use primitive bartering, it will seriously limit the commercial development and vitality of the camp."

Lin Li calculated silently.

"Moreover, I have a batch of League Credits given by Vaughn. This money is a hard currency outside, but it's completely unspendable here."

"I need to establish a complete monetary system."

Lin Li turned to look at STC-73: "73, design a unique metal alloy currency for me. Call it kindle coins."

73's optical lens flickered: "Please provide a specific anchor for the currency issuance, Creator. Currency without credit backing is just a pile of scrap metal."

"Peg the value of kindle coins to the Shelter's reserves of grain, clean water, and ammunition, as well as the Dwarven League Credits."

Lin Li's thinking was clear.

"This currency can circulate freely between players and all NPCs, used to purchase services and items."

"However,"

Lin Li emphasized a core setting,

"kindle coins absolutely cannot be used to directly exchange for the system's core points. Points are a low-level permission exclusive to players and must never be devalued due to over-issuance of currency."

"A reasonable financial isolation strategy."

73 gave an affirmative evaluation.

"Beginning to use the Matter Constructor to execute mold stamping and anti-counterfeit coating casting. The first batch of test currency is expected to be delivered in half an hour."

The AI's efficiency was startling.

Half an hour later, several metal coins still carrying residual warmth were delivered to Lin Li's hand.

The coins were only about the size of a bottle cap from Earth, presenting a dark gold matte texture and feeling substantial in weight.

In the center of the coin's reverse side, a burning flame was engraved, surrounded by many dots representing stars.

The obverse side was clearly engraved with numbers.

The currently issued denominations were 1, 5, 10, 20, 50, and 100.

Lin Li toyed with the kindle coins in his hand, listening to the crisp metallic clinking they made, very satisfied.

"Send out the notice. Starting today, the pay for the Indigenous Guards and part of the workers' wages will be settled in kindle coins. We'll test it on a small scale first to see the market's reaction."

...

The wasteland wilderness, about thirty kilometers northwest of the Shelter.

Amidst the swirling yellow sand, a convoy of over a dozen vehicles was speeding wildly.

This convoy included simple electric motorcycles fresh from the factory, as well as half-track vehicles modified with Orc parts.

The vehicles were filled with fully armed players.

They not only held large-caliber Heavy Stubbers but also carried homemade RPGs mass-produced by Niuma Squad, and there were even two 100mm mortars mounted in the truck beds.

In the last vehicle of the convoy, thick green limbs that had been hacked off were piled high.

Clearly, this was a specialized 'wilding' squad out to hunt Greenskins to supplement their food supplies.

Most of this team consisted of experienced veteran players from the second batch, leading the newly online 'newbies' from the third batch to level up and map out the area.

As the convoy was moving, the sound of flapping wings suddenly came from the sky above.

A huge black shadow descended from the sky, landing precisely on the roof of the leading tracked vehicle.

It was Paratrooper One, the only Xenogeneic player among the third batch who had rolled a mutant flying race.

The pair of huge, fleshy bat wings on his back slowly folded. He took off his goggles, gasping for breath.

"Brothers! Something's wrong up ahead!"

Paratrooper One loudly reported his reconnaissance results.

"About thirty kilometers west of the Dry River Mouth, a large number of NPCs are gathering! They're all dressed as nomads, packed densely—I don't know what kind of big move they're planning!"

The veteran player leading the team, [Captain Blood Pressure Gabriel], frowned and slammed on the brakes.

"And!"

Paratrooper One pointed north.

"In that river mouth passage connecting the north and south, more and more Orcs are heading south! They've already formed a significant scale, and it looks like they're heading for those nomads!"

Gabriel thought for a moment and immediately made a judgment.

"A large gathering of NPCs definitely means a plotline. But there are too many Greenskins now; if we rush over with just this many people, we'll just be feeding them."

Gabriel calmly ordered:

"Convoy, stop advancing. We'll stay around here to hunt stray Greenskins for XP. You there, Shushu!"

"Here, Commander!"

The ratman player Playing Valorant Is Too Noisy, riding a smaller custom electric scooter, emerged from the back of the convoy.

"You're fast and a small target. Head back to the Shelter along the original route immediately and report the situation here word-for-word to Boss Dawn!"

Gabriel instructed,

"Paratrooper One, it's been hard on you, but keep taking to the air for high-altitude recon. Report the Greenskins' movements at any time so we don't get turned into Dumpling."

"Got it!"

The ratman player twisted the throttle, and the electric scooter let out a scream as it sped off toward the Shelter, leaving a trail of dust.

Paratrooper One also leaped up, his huge fleshy wings flapping hard as he rose into the high sky once more.

"Rest of you brothers, get ready to work!"

Gabriel pulled the bolt of his gun, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

"There's a squad of about a dozen Greenskins ahead. Mortars, get ready to blast their heavy weapons!"

...

Meanwhile.

Deep in the wilderness, dozens of kilometers west of the player convoy.

Countless nomads were gathered here.

Thousands of crude tents stretched endlessly, and the neighing of mutant pack beasts rose and fell.

In the survival laws of the wasteland, nomadic tribes usually grazed separately to find scarce water and vegetation.

For dozens of tribes, large and small, to all gather together like today, there was only one possibility: a matter of life and death concerning everyone's survival had occurred.

They called this gathering: the "Alliance."

In the very center of the camp, inside a huge domed tent sewn from the toughest dragon-lizard skin, the atmosphere was so heavy it felt like it could drip water.

Dozens of leaders from different tribes sat in a circle around a burning bonfire, arranged by the size of their influence.

Every face was written with gravity.

"We can't retreat any further."

An old chief with a face full of weathered lines was the first to break the silence, his voice raspy.

"The number of Greenskins heading south from that Dry River Mouth in the north is increasing. In the past half month, our various tribes have been attacked during migration, and at least a thousand clansmen have died!"

Everyone chimed in with pain, sighs connecting into a single wave.

Sitting in the main seat was an exceptionally burly, square-faced young man.

On his bare chest was tattooed a great eagle with wings spread wide.

He was the leader of the Eagle Clan, the most battle-hardened and numerous clan on this wilderness, named Talos.

"That is why we are sitting here today: to solve this problem."

Talos's gaze swept over everyone like a blade, his voice deep.

"If we continue to allow the Greenskins to head south, one day, our wilderness will be swallowed by the green plague, and every single person will die!"

The other clan leaders nodded one after another, acknowledging this cruel fact.

But soon, a leader wearing a single-eye patch raised a question:

"Talos, you make it sound easy. How do we stop them? With what?!"