Two hundred years ago.
More precisely, in 2125, a war broke out on this prosperous planet.
Both sides entered the war determined to completely destroy the other, using nearly every means at their disposal.
The war lasted only three years.
Yet in just three years, it destroyed everything on the surface.
The long nuclear winter nearly extinguished the spark of civilization. Both sides successfully sent each other to hell—and buried themselves in the process.
Thus began a wasteland era even more bleak than the Great Depression.
Although two centuries had passed since that apocalyptic war, and the nuclear winter had largely ended over a century ago, humanity had not returned to the top of the food chain.
The rampant use of nuclear weapons, biological weapons, and even genetic weapons had driven the entire planet's ecosystem toward extreme evolution.
And those mutants known as "aberrations" had become one of the primary threats faced by survivors struggling amid the ruins.
For example, when Chu Guang had first arrived in this world, he encountered a two-headed wolfdog. That was one of them.
However, even aberrations varied in strength.
Creatures like two-headed hyenas, "deformities" caused by gamma rays, usually had little combat power. Aside from a few lucky exceptions, they were even weaker than before mutation.
In comparison, aberrations like Gnawers and Crawlers, created by biological weapons and mutated beyond any trace of their ancestral origins, were the true monsters born for slaughter.
Their nervous systems had been infected by mutant fungi. During the day, they usually hid in ruins, sewers, or dark facilities like subway tunnels, only coming out to hunt after nightfall.
The suburbs were much safer than the city.
Especially the outer suburbs.
Over the past five months, the most dangerous aberration Chu Guang had encountered was merely a mutated brown bear. It was incredibly strong, but correspondingly slow to react.
Before it noticed him, Chu Guang had carefully avoided it.
The faint light of dawn passed through broken concrete walls, falling alongside the shadows of twisted rebar onto streets littered with car wrecks and rubble.
It was eight in the morning.
The time here was roughly twelve hours apart from the UTC+8 time zone in the real world.
Watching the two mutated hyenas wandering down the street, Chu Guang tightened his grip on the sharpened water pipe in his hand and carefully circled behind the ruins.
Though he was confident he could take them out, there was no need to invite trouble.
Besides, those beasts were clever. They even knew how to use their own kind as bait. No one knew how many more were lurking in the shadows of the nearby ruins.
He followed a narrow path through the ruined district.
When he saw the sign for Bette Street Children's Park, Chu Guang finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Ahead lay Bette Street—the largest survivor settlement in the surrounding area, home to more than a hundred households.
Before the war, this place had been a children's amusement park, filled with rides and a broad lawn.
After the war, the military designated it as a temporary shelter, taking in countless citizens fleeing from downtown Clear Spring City.
No one knew what became of those refugees, but two hundred years later, the place had developed into a "small town."
People had cobbled together crude shacks across the bare mud using discarded plastic boards, awnings, wood, and metal supports.
It looked remarkably like something from the "Era of Troublemakers."
The amusement park's walls served as a natural barrier. After rough repairs, they had been reinforced with wire and wooden planks studded with nails.
At the center of the park stood a five-story classical castle, full of fairy-tale charm. Only, the paint had long since peeled away, and most of the wall facing the city center had collapsed. Only half of the northern side and a solitary, crumbling tower remained.
Even if it was a fairy tale, it was definitely a dark one.
Still, despite being so badly ruined, it remained the "most luxurious" building on Bette Street.
It was also the mayor's home.
Though he had lived here for five months, Chu Guang had never met the mayor. The man was mysterious and rarely showed his face.
"Yo, back so early?"
Old Walter narrowed his eyes at Chu Guang as he came around the street corner, a hand-rolled cigarette hanging from his mouth. A wisp of cloudy white smoke drifted from his nostrils.
He held a double-barreled hunting shotgun.
It looked old, but no one doubted its power.
Chu Guang had once seen the old man bring down a mutated brown bear charging wildly toward Bette Street's gates with only two shots.
Ever since then, he had longed to own one himself.
"Got delayed outside overnight."
"Outside?"
The old man glanced at the sharpened water pipe strapped to Chu Guang's back, surprise rising in his brows.
No one understood the dangers of the night better than him.
Whenever he stood night watch, he did not dare move his trigger finger away. The slightest rustle would put every nerve in his body on edge.
Though the aberrations in the outer suburbs were less dangerous than those in the city, too many raiders had their eyes on this place.
Falling into their hands would not end much better than dying to an aberration.
Old Walter found it hard to believe that this guy had spent an entire night safely in the wasteland armed with nothing but a steel pipe.
"Something came up."
Chu Guang offered no explanation. He merely gave Old Walter a weary look and let him draw his own conclusions before walking straight through the settlement gate.
Bette Street had only one scrapyard, easy to find beside the main entrance to the settlement.
An old electronic scale that was never accurate sat beneath the rolling shutter, with a sign beside it reading, "Fair prices, honest dealings."
This shop belonged to the mayor and was the only place on Bette Street that bought scrap parts and mutant Mole hides.
To monopolize the scavenging business, the dictator had even arrogantly passed a law.
That was, no one was allowed to sell captured prey or scavenged junk privately to passing caravans.
The stated reason was to ensure Bette Street's goods could be sold at fair prices instead of being shamelessly squeezed by "cunning merchants."
The reason such an unreasonable rule could pass was, to some extent, because the survivors here were all rather ignorant.
And ordinary caravans would not risk offending the dictator just to purchase the pitifully small amount of supplies held by scavengers.
They only did big business.
And only with people they trusted.
"Selling or buying?"
The shopkeeper was a fifty-year-old man named Old Charlie. Supposedly, he had once been a resident of a Vault in another province, then been captured and made a slave. The mayor eventually bought him from a slaver and assigned him the job of dealing with scavengers.
Most residents here were native-born wastelanders. They had received no education whatsoever and were terrible at math—so bad they could get addition and subtraction within a hundred wrong.
But Charlie was different.
He had come from a Vault.
Although no two Vaults in the wasteland were exactly alike, they all shared one thing in common.
The people who lived there had all been elites of pre-war society. Their children inherited not only their intelligence, but also a proper education from an early age.
If this world had not been such a mess, he would probably have followed in his parents' footsteps and become an engineer, doctor, or scholar.
Instead of keeping accounts here.
"Selling."
Without wasting words, Chu Guang pulled six used batteries and five tubes of adhesive from his backpack and tossed them onto the electronic scale's tray.
He had scavenged them from the remains of nearby buildings before discovering Vault 404.
Old Charlie picked up the used batteries from the table, casually checked their models and whether they were swollen or damaged, then tossed them onto the scale beside him.
They were definitely scrapped, but the materials inside could still be recycled.
"The quality's decent enough. The junk around here should've been picked clean already. Where'd you find such good stuff?"
This counted as good stuff?
"Got lucky."
"Heh, I was just asking. The batteries are decent, but the adhesive is average. The seals have been opened, and the contents are probably a mess. I can only count them at half price... Three chips total."
Chu Guang did not bargain. He accepted the three white chips from his hand.
These plastic coins with a metallic texture were the "currency" issued by Boulder City, the largest survivor settlement in Clear Spring City. They could be exchanged for food and supplies in most survivor settlements across Clear Spring City.
The front of each chip bore its denomination, while the reverse had special anti-counterfeit codes and embossing that glimmered distinctively in sunlight.
These chips were heat-resistant, easy to store, and highly recognizable. Most importantly, with post-war technology, they were practically impossible to counterfeit.
Small and medium-sized survivor settlements like Bette Street, with limited populations and no industrial capacity, primarily traded with Boulder City caravans, exchanging agricultural produce, prey, and scavenged junk for essential supplies and even weapons.
Naturally, this currency had come into circulation on Bette Street as well.
Of course, it did not work all the time. If the caravans failed to arrive one month, prices throughout the settlement would become a complete mess.
The mayor had tried introducing Bette Street's own currency—a ledger-based voucher—but nobody acknowledged it.
Even Bette Street's survivors knew those scraps of paper were more trouble than they were worth for wiping their asses. They were no different from wastepaper.
"Want to buy anything? The shop just received a shipment of new goods from Boulder City."
Chu Guang, who had been about to leave, stopped and turned back.
"Got any guns?"
"No. And even if I did, you couldn't afford one."
Old Charlie grinned, then continued as he watched Chu Guang turn to leave.
"But there's some food and fuel. If I were you, I'd buy more before prices go up."
Weapons, even the cheapest kind, were difficult to buy in a place like Bette Street.
Because even if an arms-dealing caravan occasionally passed through, those weapons usually went straight into the mayor's private warehouse. They were never placed on these shelves for people to choose from.
Besides, as Old Charlie had said, even if there really were such things, scavengers like them could never afford them.
Chu Guang understood why he said that.
As a well-educated Vault resident, Charlie surely could see that every survivor living on Bette Street, whether scavenger or hunter, had every last bit of their surplus value squeezed dry by the mayor's family.
Even though the mayor had never personally reached into their pockets and taken so much as a single chip.
"Food and fuel are going up in price?"
Seeing the surprise on Chu Guang's face, Charlie smiled faintly.
"Haven't you noticed? It's been getting colder lately, but the aberrations outside have started becoming active."
Chu Guang frowned and thought for a moment, then suddenly realized something.
"Winter's coming?"
"You only arrived here five months ago, so you may not have experienced it. Around this time in previous years, the temperature would gradually start dropping. This year... winter will probably come earlier. It might even snow in October."
Charlie paused for a moment, then spoke meaningfully.
"Winter is coming."
"Whether people or aberrations, everyone needs to prepare in advance."
When Chu Guang first arrived on Bette Street, he had been wearing a blue jacket. Charlie had instinctively assumed he was from a Vault, so he had treated him fairly well.
Though that consideration had never been reflected in transaction prices, the old man had indeed helped Chu Guang with practical experience.
Otherwise, he would not have adapted to life in the wasteland so quickly.
Chu Guang nodded seriously.
"I understand. Thanks."
"You're welcome." Charlie smiled faintly. "Just don't die."
It was already early September. If it truly snowed in October, Chu Guang had only a little over a month left to prepare.
For the survivors living in this area, snow was absolutely nothing to celebrate. It meant that besides food, they would also need to spend more on fuel.
Most people here made their living scavenging or hunting. The nearby farms only needed labor during busy farming seasons.
When winter came, scavenging would become many times harder. No one could predict whether the snow hid reusable parts or the fangs of mutant rats.
Animals that could provide meat, such as deer and rabbits, would also become less active, perhaps even simply hiding in their dens for the winter.
Worst of all, once winter arrived, caravans would stop coming here. Even if they found valuable things, they could only pile them up at home and wait until spring to sell them.
Or risk traveling to Boulder City ten kilometers away.
It was the largest survivor settlement in the Clear Spring City area, and its market did not close even in winter.
However, it stood beside Clear Spring City's Third Ring Road, right next to the city's northern district. Countless dangers lurked along the way.
Trying to get there on foot, especially during winters when temperatures could drop to minus ten degrees Celsius, was no different from suicide!
After leaving the scrapyard, Chu Guang first returned to his own place.
Calling it a home would be generous. It was merely a shack that could barely keep out the rain, without even a proper window or door.
Until yesterday, he had planned to save up materials like cement and PVC boards and seal up the drafty walls before winter arrived.
But now, it seemed unnecessary.
He dug a rusted aluminum box out of his moldy sleeping bag, forced it open, and poured the plastic coins hidden inside onto his lame wooden table with a clatter.
There were forty-seven white chips, each worth one point.
Together with the three on him, that made exactly fifty points!
He had saved this money bit by bit through frugality, all so that one day he could leave this hellhole and move to Boulder City, where conditions were better.
But now...
He had a new plan for this "fortune."
If he could establish his own place, why live under someone else's roof?
"The sanatorium ruins above the Vault can be put to use. The walls around the buildings are concrete too... If I have players to order around, gathering materials nearby and repairing the place shouldn't be too difficult."
"Wetland Park is near the sanatorium, so collecting scrap metal won't be convenient. But the surrounding vegetation is fairly dense, so there shouldn't be much of a shortage of fuel for heating. Wood can also be used to repair buildings and make furniture... Axes! Right, I need to buy four axes."
Grinding monsters and leveling up?
Not happening!
He had already said it was a one-hundred-percent realistic hardcore game. Since it was hardcore, naturally they had to begin with the most basic work!
"Tools like shovels and saws can't be left out either!" Before the players had even logged in, Chu Guang had already figured out how to assign their tasks.
Of course, aside from tools for working, there was also the most crucial thing: rations.
Once the cultivation pods were activated, they would immediately consume the active matter stored inside them to synthesize clone bodies for the players.
And those clones needed to eat!
Although the players' clones could lie dormant in the cultivation pods at a lower metabolic rate while they were offline, they couldn't stay there forever.
People had to eat to live. That was an eternal truth!
"At minimum, I need to stockpile enough food for five adults to last a week... Assuming two meals a day and one flatbread per meal, that's still seventy flatbreads."
Flatbread was the most common food on Bette Street. One chip could buy one.
These things were generally about the size of a palm. They might have been mixed with bark or other fibers, and they were hard and rough to bite into, like dirt mixed with sand. But they filled the stomach and provided a tiny bit of salt.
They could also be boiled in a pot into porridge.
Seventy flatbreads would cost seventy chips to buy. Even after haggling, he would still need at least sixty chips.
That meant his budget wouldn't be enough.
Chu Guang frowned, but quickly relaxed again.
He had overcomplicated the problem just now.
There was really no need to feed those players too well.
If he replaced the flatbreads with the raw material used to make them—green wheat produced by the nearby farms—he could buy a full kilogram for just three chips!
Stockpiling five kilograms would be enough to get through several days!
If it really came down to it, he could learn from the survivors on Bette Street and mix in bark or plant roots and stems.
As for everything else, he would figure something out later.
"For now, I'll prepare these things first..."
After sweeping the allocated chips into his backpack, Chu Guang slung it back over his shoulders.
Though he had not slept all night, he was incredibly energized now, as if he had found meaning in life again. He did not feel sleepy in the slightest.
When he pushed open the door and stepped outside, he saw the little girl next door crouching at the entrance of the neighboring shack, curiously watching his place.
Chu Guang knew her name. She was Yu Xiaoyu, the youngest daughter of the Yu family.
Most survivors in the wasteland were sallow and emaciated, and the Yu family's youngest daughter was no exception. Her thin, reed-like arms and legs made it hard to imagine that she was already old enough to be married off.
When she saw that Chu Guang had noticed her, she was not embarrassed. She simply stepped out of the house.
"I heard some movement from your place, so I came to take a look."
Every morning at dawn, the men of Bette Street went out scavenging or hunting, while the elderly, weak, women, and children generally stayed home to guard the houses or do whatever work they could to earn money.
Though everyone was dirt poor, barely managing one meal at a time and unable to save any money, with nothing worth stealing in their homes, no one wanted others taking advantage of their house while they were away.
This man named Chu Guang had come from outside. He usually left early and returned late, rarely interacting with the neighbors in the settlement.
She did not know much about him either. She only felt that he did not look like someone who could endure hardship.
At first, everyone had been wary of him. Her mother had also told her to keep a closer eye on this outsider from elsewhere.
But Little Fish did not think he was a bad person, because once, when he had been stewing soup outside his door, he had given her a bowl.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome. I can watch your house while you're out." She blinked and happily added, "I'm free anyway."
Poor child.
If she had been in that world, she should still have been in school at her age.
Not wanting to seem offensive, Chu Guang hid the trace of pity in his eyes and expressionlessly took a lollipop from his pocket, stuffing it into the little girl's hand.
"Take it and eat it."
"Don't tell anyone I gave it to you."
"Otherwise, there won't be any next time."
She had never seen food like this before.
Yu Xiaoyu first bit the wrapper, then realized she could not bite through it and understood that the outer wrapping had to be torn open.
Her large black eyes stared at the red fruit-shaped ball on the plastic stick. She carefully stuck out her tongue and gave it a gentle lick.
W-What was this flavor?!
So sweet!
Her eyes sparkled like little stars as she happily looked up, wanting to thank him.
However, the person who had given her the candy had already walked far away.
Before you continue