This Game Is Too Realistic-Chapter 384.1: Shelter 79!

“Holy crap!?”

In the Falling Leaf Camp's kitchen, staring at the mountainous pile of potatoes before him, Battlefield Cheerleader with a small knife stared blankly, his jaw nearly hitting the floor.

Is he fucking preparing food for pigs?!

How many tons of potatoes do these guys eat a day?!

However...

The cook who assigned him the task seemed completely indifferent to his astonished expression. Instead, he spoke in a commanding tone, “You... You’re Pangolin, right? These potatoes are your task for today. By evening, I want them all washed and peeled.”

“If the work isn't done, there will be consequences.”

With that, the cook disappeared.

Looking at the small knife in his hand, then at the scrawny survivors beside him, Battlefield Cheerleader felt a surge of helplessness.

“When the hell am I supposed to finish this?”

Just the day before, he was boasting on the official website that he completed several people's workload in half a day.Now, the work he completed the day before had become the standard for that day, and it even doubled.

They were basically taking advantage of him! What was more... There was no reward for the mission!

Compared to the Army, their respected administrator was a god!

Wait...

How can these damn assholes even compare to our administrator?

The more Battlefield Cheerleader thought about it, the angrier he got. Clenching the small knife, he almost couldn't help chasing after that arrogant pig to teach him a lesson.

But remembering the hidden task and the generous rewards he had unlocked the night before, he eventually took a deep breath and decided to endure.

A true man can bend and stretch.

For the supreme administrator, he endured!

"We need to improve our tools. With this knife, we won't finish even by tomorrow." Turning to the people behind him, he gestured with his hands while speaking in his broken Federation Language.

Everyone looked at each other, half-understanding what he meant and confusion was evident on their faces.

Battlefield Cheerleader sighed, picked the slightly more clever-looking fellow, and sent him to the scavengers' dump to find some iron pieces.

After getting the parts and tools, he used a flint to bore a hole in the middle of the iron pieces before wrapping them with wire to make 4 simple peeling knives.

The tool was somewhat like a razor.

Though far from automated, they were much faster than using a dagger.

With his patient guidance, all 3 apprentices quickly learned how to peel potatoes more efficiently.

This time, Battlefield Cheerleader was wise and didn't rush to show off. Instead, he squatted beside them and diligently got to work.

Seeing his leisurely demeanor, an apprentice couldn't help but express his envy. “Brother, do you often peel potatoes?"

"No, why?" Battlefield Cheerleader frowned.

"It’s just that you seem very skilled, and the tool you modified works really well."

Battlefield Cheerleader chuckled. "That's nothing; where I'm from, everyone peels like this. I learned it from others."

Hearing what he said, the apprentices looked even more envious.

In the wasteland, crops with a growing cycle longer than two months aren't something ordinary people can afford.

Most survivor settlements grew green wheat, not because people enjoy its unique oxalic taste, but because other crops don't survive to maturity. They were either raided or destroyed by mutants.

In times of war and chaos, crops which were quick to harvest and wouldn’t require much soil fertility or labor were preferred. No matter which world it was, that held true.

Since he had nothing better to do, Battlefield Cheerleader casually started talking about life in the New Alliance, using his rudimentary language skills. Of course, he never mentioned Dawn City. He simply referred to everything as Baker Street.

After talking until his mouth was dry, he paused and suddenly noticed a group of survivors standing around the space outside the kitchen.

"What's going on over there?"

An apprentice squatting beside him quickly replied, "I heard the Army is recruiting..."

"Recruiting?"

"Yes, strong survivors or those with special abilities can sign up. They say once you're in the Army's ranks, you can eat potatoes and beef." As he spoke, the apprentice's face showed clear envy. He was obviously tempted.

But perhaps thinking of the possibility of being used as cannon fodder on the front lines, he ultimately couldn't make up his mind to try his luck.

Battlefield Cheerleader looked at him curiously, tossing the peeled potatoes he had been working on into a nearby basket.

Potatoes and beef... Didn’t they loot those two-headed ox and potatoes from your homes?

While he continued peeling potatoes and pondered whether to try his luck at the recruitment site, Cowley stood in the center of the camp, looking at a list handed to him by a subordinate.

In four days, they had gathered 7,400 survivors, emptying nearly 17 survivor settlements.

The largest had a population of 1,000, and the camp even had an iron cannon.

However... In front of a 400mm main gun, their cannon was merely a toy.

Especially after the locals heard that the steel airship destroyed an entire company of a hundred with just one shot, they had no courage to resist and obediently packed their belongings to relocate.

They had already set up a wood generator in the camp to power the nutrient paste synthesizer, and they planned to install a few furnaces to recycle the trash scavenged from the city into useful metal castings for manufacturing Ripper rifles and ammunition.

General McClennan had tasked him with training a force of 1,000 locals within two months to join their troops in combat.

His plan was to lay the foundation for bringing the southern plains of the River Valley Province under their control.

Standing beside Cowley, Finod squinted at the line of survivors.

"We need to speed up. The Enterprise folks have noticed our activities. Our patrols have come up empty several times."

Cowley replied, "I've already reported this issue to Richie. We'll increase the number of patrol squads..."

"And one more thing."

"What's that?"

"I heard about a Deathclaw as tall as a two-story building at 79 Xiangling Street. Is that correct?"

Cowley remembered the issue and nodded. "Yes, that's true. I reported the situation there to Richie. Considering it's just a small settlement of 200 to 300 people, and those locals probably wouldn't survive the Deathclaw, I had my men write off that survivor settlement... Any problems with that?"

He wasn't scared of the creature. He just didn't think it was worth the loss of life and precious ammunition to kill a beast.

Their troops were limited and couldn't be replenished from their reserves, and the Enterprise guerrillas were already giving him enough headaches.

Finod grinned. "No problem, losing a few hundred people is trivial, but General McClennan is very interested in that beast. He saw it from the bridge and kept talking about hanging its head on the bridge of the Heart of Steel to show to General Griffin."

Cowley looked at Finod in disbelief, speechless for a moment.

Finod's smile remained unchanged, his tone still gentle. "Can I trouble you to deal with it?”

It would be best if he could refuse, but it was an order from General McClennan... Even though he was unwilling, Cowley could only nod, his head numb.

"Alright..."

...

"This library doesn't have a basement, does it?"

In the dim tunnel, Sisi held a flashlight as she looked around. The place felt like a bomb shelter to her, though she had never seen a real one. Sesame Paste walked beside her, holding a radio, her cat ears were perky and alert as she scanned the area.

Just then, the radio, which had been quiet a second ago, suddenly emitted a jarring laugh, startling her so much she nearly dropped it. "Who told you that?"

"The locals."

"Hehe, what do they know?"

That makes sense.

Sisi nodded thoughtfully, not dwelling on this trivial issue.

If everyone could find the entrance to the shelter, it would be a torment for both those inside and outside, both physically and mentally.

They continued along the dark tunnel, which widened as they progressed, from the start where only 4 people could walk side by side to a two-lane road.

Looking at the side passages along the corridor, Sisi was increasingly sure of her previous guess.

Shelter 79 definitely had more than one entrance, and it could accommodate far more than just 1,000 people!

The elevator hidden behind a bookshelf on the library's second floor was just one of the entrances.

... As for how they found that entrance, it all started half an hour ago.

Half an hour earlier, they had discovered a radio on the library's second floor, seemingly picking up signals from nowhere.

The person in the radio claimed to be the administrator of Shelter 79 and said in a tone that was either one of self-mocking or self-reproach.

"Half the barbarism on this land can be traced back to this place..." Urging them to leave.

Sisi was skeptical of his claims. However, he seemed to be the only person who knew the entrance to Shelter 79.

She thought it would take some effort to gain the administrator's trust, but surprisingly, she almost effortlessly convinced him with her broken Federation language to let them see Shelter 79. freёwebnoѵel.com

To be honest... Such an easy persuasion placed her in a state of disbelief.

Could it be...?

Is my hidden charm attribute actually very high?

A strange expression appeared on Sisi’s face.

The next second, the radio suddenly spoke. "I forgot to ask, what exactly is Shelter 404 used for?"

"Isn’t it just a typical shelter?" Sisi frowned.

"Oh, I see..." The voice came from the radio again.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just wanted to make sure I'm not interfering with the work of other friends, hehe.” The chuckle somehow contained a hidden meaning.

Whatever it was, Sisi didn't think much of it. After all, the old radio was constantly emitting static noise even when it said nothing.

"By the way, what should we call you?"

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