Chapter 683.1: New Name Baby!

This Game Is Too Realistic

The in central tent of the Army’s camp.

Sitting at the long table, Banteno frowned at the Survivor Daily in his hands. After a long moment of brooding, he muttered under his breath, “These blue rats… what trick are they playing now…”

Ever since he arrived in Dawn City, Survivor Daily had become his must-read paper every morning.

Especially when he realized that all the intelligence he used to spend days gathering was written plainly within just a few pages, his morning routine had changed from brushing his teeth to reading the newspaper first thing after waking up.

Lately, he had been paying close attention to the situation at French Fry Harbor. Survivor Daily would update photos every few days, and he had practically watched the port grow from a barren stretch of empty land into a proper little fishing village.

To be honest, seeing the photos in sequence was quite astonishing.

Although the Army often helped natives build camps, none of their results ever matched the aesthetic or comfort of what those blue rats had achieved in less than half a month. And now, the village could no longer be considered small. With the recent arrival of new immigrants, it had clearly grown into a settlement of over 1,000 people.

Placed anywhere else in the wasteland, it would already count as a fairly large survivor settlement. Precisely because of that, Banteno felt a surge of alarm.

The recently convened Mutant Slime Mold Research Committee had a minimum threshold of 1,000 people. Any survivor settlement with a thousand residents could vote on the affairs of its province, influencing that province’s voting results at the Main Assembly.

As everyone knew, alien species could not vote. And French Fry Harbor, being the only settlement in the Baiyue Province, would monopolize the one precious vote representing all survivors of Baiyue Province.

That would further worsen the Army’s already miserable situation at the committee, given their lack of reliable allies.

Realizing what was happening, Banteno clenched his fists.

Without a doubt, it was blatant cheating!

He had spent immense effort and political capital to drag the Xilande Empire into the committee, just to get the vote from the Poro Province. If the New Alliance intended to use cheap tricks to pull votes for themselves, he would never agree to it!

“I need to find a way to plug this loophole…”

Just as Banteno sank into deep thought, footsteps sounded outside the tent. A guard shook the bell by the entrance and stepped inside, bowing. “My lord, the envoy from the Xilande Empire requests an audience.”

Banteno said impatiently, “Let him in.”

“Yes, my lord.” The guard bowed and left.

Moments later, the tent flap lifted, and the envoy stepped in, his iconic twin goat-beard twitching, his body carrying a strong scent of exotic spices.

His face radiated a warm, enthusiastic smile, his mustache quivering beneath his nose.

“Honored General Banteno, I apologize for disturbing you at this hour, but when I came yesterday, you were already out. I had no choice but to arrive earlier today.”

Yesterday?

Banteno recalled he had been dining with the Bugra Free State’s foreign minister and indeed had been absent from camp. No wonder they hadn’t met.

Still, could this guy not bother making an appointment beforehand?

“No matter, my friend, Ga… Duke Garawa, you’re always welcome to visit,” Banteno said, touching his nose and forcing a clumsy smile. “So what wind has blown you here today?”

He was not good at acting politely. The Army never needed such things. If talks didn’t work, they used their fists. If not for the ongoing Mutant Slime Mold Research Committee negotiations, he wouldn’t even bother with the pompous goat before him.

But fortunately, or unfortunately, this duke’s expertise was just as mismatched. He failed to notice the half-hearted politeness in Banteno’s smile and instead mistook his greeting as sincere goodwill from the Army.

It was not surprising. Most people in Poro Province, especially nobles, viewed Wislanders through a heavy filter, one strong enough to block any unfriendly interpretation.

Seeing Banteno’s seemingly warm smile, Duke Garawa was visibly moved, as though he had found a kindred spirit. Without hesitation, upon hearing Banteno ask why he came, he immediately adopted an indignant expression and began complaining. “I didn’t wish to trouble you over such a small matter, but the New Alliance is truly outrageous! Never have I seen such shameless people! They deny what is clearly printed in the newspaper, pretend to be deaf and blind… How is this different from bandits?!”

Do I even need to describe the problem? It’s so obvious!

Banteno had no objections to calling them bandits. The Heart of Steel, after all, was still floating above Dawn City’s outskirts. There was no better proof of the New Alliance’s shamelessness. He had requested its return many times, yet the New Alliance had no intention of giving it back and even flaunted it as a war trophy.

“Indeed,” Banteno nodded, unable to resist cursing, “The uncultured pack of barbarians understands nothing of courtesy or humility. So, my friend, what exactly did they do to you?”

Duke Garawa clenched his fist in fury. “They took in Moonfolk!”

“... Moon, Moonfolk?” Banteno blinked and instinctively asked, “What is that?”

In his eyes, there were only Wislander and Others, plus the not-too-bright fast-growing clones.

What the hell are Moonfolk? Survivors from the moon?

Seeing Banteno’s confusion, Duke Garawa patiently explained. “The Moonfolk are sinners of the Xilande Empire. In our prophet’s revelations, their lunar deity conspired to murder the Ox God of the Sun, causing the blazing sun to fall to the end of the Everflowing River, plunging the Poro Province into eternal darkness… They have all inherited sin from their past lives. Only by suffering in this life can they be forgiven and reincarnate anew.”

“You must have seen them, the slaves sold from Poro Province to the West Coast are mostly Moonfolk…”

Banteno had listened in a daze, but upon hearing the last part, sudden realization struck him.

So it was those people.

He had indeed seen those slaves with narrow, tall noses, he even owned two at his own estate. They were skinnier than Wislander and lacked robust builds, but… they had their own kind of unique charm in bed…

“General Banteno?” Seeing Banteno drift into thought, Duke Garawa gently called out to him.

Realizing he had lost his composure, Banteno quickly snapped out of it and coughed. “So… Basically, they stole your slaves? What an unreasonable bunch of bastards!”

“Exactly! Unreasonable bastards!” Duke Garawa’s eyes shone with emotion, and he continued angrily, “I must say, these so-called New Alliance is a cancer on this planet! They loot everywhere, commit every crime imaginable, yet shamelessly preach about uniting survivors… We cannot allow them to continue! We must join forces and do something! We need to remove this tumor once and for all!”

Banteno’s cheerful expression froze, and he nearly choked on his own saliva. Some things could be said behind closed doors, but doing them was another matter entirely.

While he had no doubt the Army could wipe the New Alliance off the map, he had no idea how the Academy or the Enterprise would react. Apart from the expansionist lunatics, few wanted to fight a war with no tangible benefit, especially one that might drag them into a bottomless abyss.

Besides, the Marshal had sent to the New Alliance to seek cooperation, not start a war.