This Game Is Too Realistic-Chapter 479.2: Lets Make A Deal

In the northern part of the River Valley Province, on the barren plains near a nuclear crater, rows of shabby, makeshift tents stood scattered. The camp had no name, and it might not even be there the next year.

The scavengers living here were like nomads chasing pasture. Wherever there was junk to collect, that was where the tents and campfires moved.

If someone happened to die, the Slime Molds lingering near the crater would kindly handle the funeral arrangements.

For those who had fallen into the life of a scavenger, it didn’t really matter whether their corpse ended up in a Slime Mold’s mouth or in that of a mutant. Both were equally unpleasant.

Buyers interested in their scrap or scavenging skills would always find ways to locate them.

One morning, the 50-something-year-old Gust woke early as usual, ready to drive his Excavator No.1 to a nearby ancient battlefield and try to dig up something valuable.

Just as he slung on his basket and headed out the door, a bald man from the Digging Warriors next door called Ah Qiang, came knocking.

“A few big shots came to the settlement. They say they’re hiring.”

Hearing that there was serious business, Gust narrowed his eyes. He sat down on the stool by the door and tapped the ashes from his pipe onto his shoe.

“What kind of job? Are we salvaging something? Where is it?”

“North of the northern mountains in the Sunset Province.”

Gust frowned at the vague answer. “Just say it’s the Wandering Swamp.”

Digging for relics from the Federation Era right under the Academy’s nose? That was just asking for trouble.

In the Academy’s eyes, they were no better than marauders, maybe even worse.

Even if he had 10,000 lives, he wouldn’t dare expand his operations into the Academy’s territory.

The bald man chuckled. “It’s not inside the swamp, just along its edge.”

Gust shot him a suspiciously glance before asking, “How many people are they hiring?”

The bald man spread out five fingers. “At least 500. They need professional equipment and people experienced in dismantling large machines.”

“500?!” Gust’s eyes widened as he smacked his lips. “That’s a big job... What are they planning to take apart?”

The bald man shook his head. “No idea... But they promised that if we can break it down and haul it to West Continent Municipality, they’ll pay us 1,000,000 silver coins.”

“That many silver coins?!”

That figure made Gust’s heart skip a beat. That wasn’t a small amount, if converted to wheat, it’d be close to 1,000 tons!

Of course, no one would actually trade silver coins for wheat. In Oasis No.8 of the Sunset Province, you could get better deals.

What truly tempted them were the Alliance’s KV-1 exoskeletons, metal hydrogen batteries, Electric Mule light trucks, and various large-scale engineering machines.

For those who lived off scavenging, the New Alliance’s rugged, cost-effective industrial goods were exactly what they needed.

“Sounds interesting...” Gust rubbed his chin, his eyes lighting up with interest. “Are those people still here?”

Seeing the spark in Gust’s eyes, the bald man grinned. “They’re still here. Let’s go together. This job’s too big for one team. If we partner up, we’ll earn more.”

Gust gave him a glance and grunted, “We’ll see once we get there.”

...

At the center of the camp...

Looking at the crowd of ragged beggars in front of them, Lost Newbie next to Old Six couldn’t help but mutter, “Can we really count on these people?”

Free Sniper chimed in softly. “Yeah. I’m worried they’ll take apart a plane and give us two planes' worth of random parts.”

Old Six blinked. “Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”

“Good my ass,” Free Sniper rolled his eyes. “Do you think you can make it fly?”

While the players whispered to each other, the old man named Gust was quietly sizing up the three outsiders.

Three suits of Type 5 Light Cavalry exoskeletons.

Such gear wasn’t rare in ruined cities, but those in their condition which were almost new, could only be from two sources. They were either replicas, or from shelters.

Gust, a veteran scavenger, could tell replicas apart at a glance. There was no doubt about it. Those soldiers were from the New Alliance.

Noticing the doubt on the faces of two players, Gust smiled and spoke respectfully. “Honored sirs, don’t be fooled by our ragged clothes, when it comes to scavenging... Everyone here is a true expert.”

A bald man next to him added, “That’s right! Our ancestors were scavengers. From the Federation’s aerospace frigates to frozen rations... If it could be sold, we’ve studied it!”

“Frigates, huh...” Reading the translation subtitles on his tactical visor, Lost Newbie’s eyes widened in surprise. “Damn... They’re some kind of wasteland’s Beggar Sect.”

“Hsssss...” Free Sniper rubbed his chin. “Now that you put it like that... I’m suddenly feeling a little better about them.”

“Whatever! We’re already here, let’s give it a try. Worst case, we’re not the ones taking the blame.” Interrupting the debate, Old Six stepped forward, looking at the veteran scavengers.

“We already told you our requirements. We need at least 500 experienced field salvagers to recover a stranded large device. The reward is 1,000,000 silver coins. How you split it is up to you... I want you to pick someone who can speak for everyone.”

The scavengers exchanged glances and whispered among themselves.

In the end, the elderly Gust stepped forward again. “No problem, sir. As long as you pay, we guarantee to get the job done, and we won’t say a word to anyone else. By the way... Can you tell us what exactly we’re salvaging? We need to know what tools to bring.”

That was a reasonable request.

Old Six hesitated for a bit, then nodded. “It’s a plane.”

Gust continued to ask, “What model?”

“It’s over 20 meters long, six or seven meters tall. It’s a bit more than 20 tons, equipped with two plasma engines... That’s all I can tell you. Knowing more won’t help you.”

Gust’s expression shifted subtly.

That description...

It sounded like an Enterprise’s Orca transport aircraft.

He had a vague idea what it was about, but dared not dig deeper. He quickly bowed and ended the topic. “Understood... then, sir, when do we depart?”

Affairs between major factions weren’t something scavengers like them should meddle in. As that New Alliance soldier said, knowing too much would only bring trouble.

Seeing the old man didn’t pry further, Old Six relaxed. “Right now. The sooner, the better.”

Gust grinned and said respectfully, “As you command! I guarantee our service will satisfy you!”

Old Six nodded. “I hope so.”

...

Under the leadership of the three players, more than 500 scavengers left the camp in a grand procession, heading for the northern mountains of the Sunset Province.

Some drove three-meter-tall forklifts, others dragged patched-up robots. Some led two-headed ox or pushed rickety carts by hand... Their gear was mostly homemade or second-hand goods bought from traders, with almost no one looking the same.

Looking at the scavengers, Lost Newbie was full of doubt, but at that point, they had no choice but to trust them.

At the same time, after nearly five days of trekking, Old White and his team, who were escorting the pilot, finally emerged from the mountains and saw the endless expanse of yellow sand.

"Yiwu..."

Little Feather, walking in the middle of the group, let out a tired whimper as it gazed at the heat-distorted air in the distance. The temperature south of the mountains was noticeably higher than in the north, and the dry climate made it distinctly uncomfortable for a creature that liked moist environments.

Falling Feather gently patted its little head to comfort it. "Hang in there, we’re almost there."

"Yiwu."

The comfort seemed effective. Little Feather made a happy cry, the tendrils on the back of its head rippling with delighted waves like underwater seaweed.

Falling Feather smiled. This child was really too easy to cheer up.

Night Ten glanced at Little Feather and muttered, "Damn... Those tendrils are really creeping me out."

Falling Feather replied a little sheepishly, "I thought the same at first, but you get used to it."

A short distance away, Zhao Xiao stared at the mother organism that got along so harmoniously with people, as if his worldview had just been shattered. But he didn’t have the luxury to dwell on his shock.

After five days of travel, they had reached the outskirts of Sunset Province. A few dozen more kilometers forward and they would soon see Oasis No.8.

Owing someone a beer was a small matter...