Chapter 671.1: Growth Of French Fry Harbor |
Jungle, beach, and sea!
Grandpa’s back again!
Inside the airship’s cabin, Ample Time gazed through the glass window at the charming view of French Fry Harbor, the corners of his lips curving into a self-satisfied grin.
“Not bad,” he murmured.
This time, he could finally indulge in a little fantasy of being a city lord.
Of course, that was only half true. In reality, French Fry Harbor wasn’t his alone to command.
Minor development projects were subcontracted to various teams and organizations, while the larger development plans and project approvals were handled by the Board of Directors of the Baiyue Strait Development Company.
This joint-stock company, registered in Dawn City, was owned collectively by multiple player factions interested in developing the Baiyue Strait. Shares were divided according to investment, and within the New Alliance’s legal framework, they coordinated all coastal development.
The Bull and Horse Squad, meanwhile, was responsible for infrastructure construction and logistics, their area of expertise.
As Ample Time stepped off the pod, the construction project manager, Sword Execution, strode forward, glanced at the second airship, and exclaimed, “Holy crap, you bought another one?!”
“What do you mean, ‘another’? That one belongs to the Expedition Corps. From now on, all salvage and recovery work goes to the professionals, we’ll stick to transporting cargo.” Ample Time grinned, patting the man’s shoulder. He led him toward the pod and gestured to the cargo being unloaded.
“As for the stuff I bought… Here they are! 10 sets of Turtle Class engineering exoskeletons and 25 Cross Spider Bots. They’re yours to handle!”
At that, Sword Execution’s eyes lit up. The Turtle Class exoskeletons had already proven themselves during the Camp 101 reconstruction and the redevelopment projects carried out by the New Alliance. They were the ultimate personal construction-assistance gear, the crystallized product of two centuries of civil-engineering expertise from Shelter 100.
Like powerful all-terrain trucks, they could traverse rough terrain effortlessly, switching tools according to task, even providing visualized digital guidance.
If the K-10 Iron Wall exoskelton was the pinnacle of combat engineering, the “Turtle” was its construction-site counterpart, designed for builders, not soldiers.
Paired with Cross Spider Bots capable of carrying materials vertically along walls, a 10-man construction squad could match the efficiency of a 100-person crew. Even Sword Execution, a veteran civil engineer, had been awestruck when he first saw them in action. Their performance was so impressive that demand and price, never dropped.
Players, NPCs, even Ideal City’s construction firms were fighting to order them.
Now… Ample Time bought multiple sets?!
Eagerly, Sword Execution motioned for nearby workers to crack open one of the man-sized cargo crates.
When he saw the crab-like exoskelton gleaming inside, he nearly drooled with joy, until a thought hit him. “Wait a sec… doesn’t this thing require certified training?”
Anticipating that question, Ample Time chuckled, fully prepared. “Relax, I hired the trained operators too, they’ll be disembarking shortly. Just make sure they stay safe. Per contract, they only work inside the secured zone.”
“Of course! You think I’d send them out to die?” Sword Execution grinned. “Leave it to me!”
“With you here, I never worry,” Ample Time said with a smile.
Both of them were veterans from the earliest beta days, both members of the original Bull and Horse chatgroup.
Sword Execution’s playstyle, however, had always been niche, his combat power existed almost entirely on the construction site, which was why few players knew him well. Whatever it was, Ample Time trusted him completely.
As they walked toward the camp center, Ample Time noticed near the beach a heap of cargo bundles tied with hemp rope, square stacks of fur, some with hair, some tanned smooth, all in various sizes and colors.
There were at least 1,000 pieces.
Ample Time raised his eyebrows slightly. “Good grief, did you guys hunt all this?”
Seeing Ample Time’s astonished look, Sword Execution sighed. “Not really. They kinda… brought themselves over to die.”
Brought themselves over to die? When did the wilderness get this generous?
Ample Time blinked, then recalled rumors he’d heard from the Expedition Corps. After a pause, he muttered, “This rainforest is really strange. I heard the local mutants are genetically related to Mutant Slime Mold, there might even be a Hive nearby. Be careful when working. Seriously, safety first.”
“Don’t you worry! Hive or no Hive, I’ll keep my eyes open.” Sword Execution smirked, patting his arm. “But hey, if we do find that Hive, we’re rich. Just reporting its location is worth a million silver coins!”
“Yeah, even I’m tempted to start looking.” Ample Time chuckled. He glanced again at the fur stacks, and noticed faint blood and mucus stains. “These are all untreated hides?”
Sword Execution nodded. “I think so. Processing them takes time. The fur traders say the camp is almost out of salt, and we’re right next to the ocean.”
Ample Time blinked. “Are things really that bad?”
“Worse,” Sword Execution groaned. “They opened two new salt fields, but we are still short of manpower. The fur traders are thinking about shipping the hides back to Dawn City for processing.”
French Fry Harbor had only about 300 players.
Even with 200 new arrivals, many were just respawned veterans. They were barely enough to cover both construction and research crews.
And hiring players for tedious hide work was overkill and it was economically wasteful.
“If they ship it back, it’ll rot before it gets there.”
Ample Time thought for a moment before realizing something. “Wait, what about Tail’s people?”
“You mean those Moonfolk refugees?” Sword Execution asked.
Ample Time smiled. “Exactly. The workload isn’t heavy, perfect for them. It’s not just tanning, but basic game processing too. If NPCs handle that, we save costs and free up more skilled labor for advanced work. You know what I mean.”
Sword Execution stared at him strangely. For a moment, he felt like Ample Time was thinking like an NPC himself.
“What? Is there something on my face?” Ample Time asked, rubbing his cheek when Sword Execution didn’t answer.
Clearing his throat, Sword Execution quickly replied, “Nothing. It’s actually a good idea.”
It really was. French Fry Harbor was still in a primitive state, but the walls were up. It was safe enough for civilian labor.
“I’ll post on the forum later to get their feedback. Oh, and one more thing.” Sword Execution hesitated, remembering something.
Ample Time glanced at him. “What is it?”
“About the forest clearing,” Sword Execution began cautiously. “Some teams reported something strange, the jungle seems to have self-repairing properties.”
Ample Time frowned. “It can restore itself?”
“Yeah. It’s hard to describe. Basically, areas we cleared one day had new bushes, vines, and grass the next, as if they grew overnight. At first, I thought crews were slacking off, but it’s happening everywhere.”
In normal tropical conditions, forests expanded naturally toward fertile soil, but aunt expansion took years.
The one before them recovered in a day.
It was alive.
Seeing Ample Time’s thoughtful expression, Sword Execution suggested, “You should report it to the New Alliance Biological Research Institution next time you’re back. See what they think.”
Ample Time nodded solemnly and looked up at the second airship still hovering above. “No need to wait, they came with the Expedition Corps. You can brief them directly.”
…