Tragedy on the Wasteland (Seeking Follow-ups)

The small convoy led by Wang Zhong raced across the wasteland of the Crimson Bright Wasteland.

The veteran driver floored the accelerator, his hands spinning the steering wheel frantically to dodge the gullies and rocks on the ground.

Inside the vehicle, the jolting was enough to displace one's internal organs, yet no one complained; everyone kept their eyes locked on the rear.

The pursuit lasted for about fifteen minutes.

Just as the fourth vehicle's tire was shredded by a flaming axe thrown by a Bloodletter, nearly causing the car to flip, the pursuit suddenly ceased.

The Fear Demons and Bloodletters stopped in unison about twenty kilometers away from the industrial zone.

They stood before an invisible boundary, roaring in frustration at the retreating convoy, but did not take another step forward.

"The edge of the contamination zone."

[Second Emperor of Holy Blood], the psychic player who had been speaking earlier, panted as he said, "The Chaos corruption hasn't spread this far yet... for now."

The convoy drove another five kilometers, and only after confirming there were no pursuers did they stop on a relatively flat stretch of wasteland.

Wang Zhong's legs felt weak as he stepped out of the vehicle.

He glanced at the system time; from the moment they were spotted to their successful escape, a total of twenty-five minutes had passed.

But under the influence of adrenaline, it felt like half a century.

"Count the losses," he said, his voice hoarse.

"Vehicle Four's rear right tire is totaled, needs a spare."

"Vehicle Three's fuel tank was grazed by stray fire, leaked a third of its contents."

"Personnel... no deaths, but seven brothers were grazed by the aftermath of the demons' sorcery during the counterattack. The worst is a thigh wound burned through to the bone, but it's been staunched with a medkit."

Wang Zhong nodded and was about to speak when [Have You Been Loyal Today] suddenly pointed into the distance: "Commander, look over there."

About two kilometers away, there was a cluster of low-lying buildings.

It looked like an abandoned mine, with several dilapidated sheds, a rusted elevator derrick, and mountains of waste ore.

But at this moment, figures were moving between the sheds.

Many, many figures.

"A scavenger settlement?"

[Second Emperor of Holy Blood] frowned, "But there are too many of them..."

Wang Zhong grabbed his binoculars.

In the lens, those people were indeed wearing tattered clothes, but looking closely...

The base color of those clothes was uniform; although covered in grime, the original style was still discernible.

It was the style of the Alru Group worker uniforms.

"Could this be?" Wang Zhong whispered.

The convoy cautiously approached the mine.

At a distance of five hundred meters, Wang Zhong ordered a stop, then approached on foot with [Have You Been Loyal Today], [Second Emperor of Holy Blood], and [I Am Not The Regent I Am Guilliman].

They held their hands up to show they were unarmed, though they all had laser pistols tucked at their waists.

The entrance to the mine was barricaded with a crude low wall made of waste ore.

Behind the wall, dozens of eyes watched them vigilantly.

Then, someone recognized Wang Zhong.

"It... it's you?"

A raspy voice rang out.

A man so thin he was unrecognizable stepped out from behind the low wall.

He was in his forties, with sunken cheeks and deep eye sockets, but Wang Zhong remembered this face. In the transport tunnel at the northwest corner of the industrial zone, it was this man who had held two children and bowed repeatedly to the players, saying thank you.

"Are you... Aska?" Wang Zhong asked tentatively.

A glimmer of light flashed in the man's cloudy eyes: "You still remember my name..."

He turned and shouted to those behind the wall: "It's the people who saved us! It's the kind people wearing helmets!"

A commotion erupted behind the low wall.

More workers emerged.

Most of them were supporting each other, walking with a stagger.

Wang Zhong saw that many had sores and bruises on their exposed skin, the result of long-term malnutrition and harsh conditions.

The children's situation was even worse.

For the Chamber of Commerce, the standard for slaves was never based on age; young children were just as likely to be sent into that sinful sweatshop.

Some children, looking to be in their teens, curled up in their mothers' arms, their bellies distended—not from being full, but from severe edema.

Their eyes were large, appearing jarring on their thin faces, their gazes hollow.

"How many people are here?" Wang Zhong asked.

"There were over three thousand six hundred when we escaped."

Aska's voice trembled, "Now... there are only about two thousand one hundred left."

"Over four hundred died on the road, and another nine hundred died after arriving here..."

He pointed toward the depths of the mine.

There lay a patch of freshly dug shallow pits, with over a hundred corpses covered in rags piled along the edges.

Some of the bodies were very small; they were clearly children.

Wang Zhong's Adam's apple bobbed. Although he still considered this a game, seeing such a mass grave in person, how could he remain unmoved?

Did they not want to live happily, to be well-fed and warm, to have a stable job?

No, they wanted it desperately! It was just a pity they were born in the Warhammer world...

Born into a world where human lives were merely currency in the hands of the Emperor.

An execution threshold?

They were born already in an executed state; how could there even be a threshold to speak of?

From the moment of birth, they were destined to be expendable resources, unable to choose their own fate. Freedom? Wealth? Food and clothing?

They didn't even dare to dream of such things.

He suppressed the stirring in his heart and turned to speak in the regional channel: "Everyone, disembark."

"Unload all the reserve purified water and nutrient paste from the vehicles."

"Old Driver, take a few people to find firewood nearby—dry, burnable wood."

"Commander, after we exchanged for all that equipment, we only have enough food for ourselves for ten days," Have You Been Loyal Today whispered a reminder.

"Execute the order." Wang Zhong cut him off.

Wang Zhong walked to the back of a transport truck.

He opened the system shop and operated it quickly.

[Exchange: Large Army Pot x1, cost 20 Imperial Coin]

[Exchange: Standard Nutrient Paste x100, cost 30 Imperial Coin]

[Exchange: Purified Water x100 units (1 liter per unit), cost 30 Imperial Coin]

With a flash of white light, an iron pot with a diameter of 1.5 meters appeared on the truck, alongside stacks of sealed nutrient paste and water bladders.

He said to the players below the truck:

"Move these things out, start a fire, and cook."

"Understood, Commander."

"These players have all undergone Type I augmentation; moving these things is a breeze."

When the workers saw the benefactors who had saved them begin to prepare food, they were stunned.

Aska opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but no sound came out.

"Don't just stand there."

Wang Zhong waved at the players, "Help build the stove and boil the water."

"Blood Angel, take the people from Crimson Spirit to check on the wounded. Anyone with medical knowledge, go. Exchange for medical kits if you need to; come to me for reimbursement later."

The players sprang into action.

Some went to move stones to build a stove, some dismantled the wooden parts of abandoned mine carts for firewood, and others took medical kits from the trucks.

Those were items they had bought with Imperial Coin, and they were a bit reluctant to use them on others.

However, since Forever Loyal to the Emperor wanted to do this, they couldn't object; they just treated it as playing a charity simulator.

The players set up the iron pot, poured the water in, and tore open the packaging of the nutrient paste, tossing it into the boiling water.

That gray-brown, viscous paste dissolved under the high heat, emitting a scent that was a mixture of grains and synthetic protein.

To the Hive City workers, this was a familiar smell; most of the food they had eaten in their lives was this kind of nutrient paste.

But for them at this moment, it was the smell of salvation.

Wang Zhong personally held a wooden ladle, distributing the food to the workers standing in line.

Each person received half a ladle of the mush, paired with a small piece of broken-off compressed biscuit—something the players had bought from the shop.

The first to receive a bowl was a woman nearly fifty years old.

Her hands trembled, and the mush in the bowl nearly spilled.

She didn't rush to eat; instead, she turned and handed the bowl to an eleven or twelve-year-old girl behind her.

The little girl swallowed greedily, the mush running down the corners of her mouth.

The woman squatted nearby and watched, her cloudy eyes filled with tenderness.

Wang Zhong looked away. This was maternal love; no matter how hungry she was, the first thing she thought of was her child.

"Why not go to Red Rainbow Town and the few nearby Hive Cities?"