The construction site on the old sanatorium grounds.
Dust swirled, the sound of hammering was incessant, and the noise of unloading went clink and clank, creating a scene of bustling enthusiasm.
These players seemed to have boundless energy and passion, pushing carts they had picked up from the abandoned construction site, one load after another of stones, transported to the cement kiln to be smashed with hammers, then poured into the kiln and calcined into the raw material for cement.
Players squatting nearby energetically operated the bellows, striving to make the kiln's fire burn even more fiercely. Not far away was the constantly operating charcoal kiln, and beyond that, a kiln for smoking meat and a fish-smoking rack, with rising smoke and noise that even chased the birds from the trees.
Together, the players poured the burned cement into sand and water, mixing it into a thick cement slurry, quickly completing the foundation for the first section of the wall.
Wisps of blue smoke joined together in blankets.
This place was like a nascent tribe, young and full of vigor.
Having left the construction site to [Spare people under the knife], who had a civil engineering background, Old White and Fang Chang had already begun to study "primitive methods of smelting."
Moreover, Wild Wind had also improved the fish traps, using Mutated Leech larvae as bait, easily catching a dozen fish a day without any problems. The excess was handed over to Brother Stir-Fry Egg to be made into dried fish.
The lake's bounty was even richer than he had imagined.
The only thing to watch out for was not to put too much bait in the traps, and not to set them too deep, otherwise large fish could easily break the traps.
But these were minor issues.
As long as one mastered the tricks, everything would gradually become second nature, and the process itself was full of fun.
It was the same for the new players.
There was no need to deliberately look for it; everything here was so novel to them, an experience nearly impossible to have in modern society.
Many people sat in offices all day long, day after day, taking on work that anyone could replace, losing themselves in the minutiae.
But this place was different.
This difference came not just from the novelty of the moment but also from a sense of satisfaction in realizing one's self-worth.
The civil-engineering dog who hadn't made it into management even after five or six years on the construction site only had to shout, "I'm in engineering," to be immediately revered by other players and entrusted with important tasks.
And there were the workers who mixed cement and plastered walls.
Most of the players were ordinary people whose jobs in reality might not be so remarkable, but here, as long as you had some skills, you could receive collective recognition without even needing to be particularly outstanding.
And because of each individual's efforts, the surface outpost of the shelter was visibly improving.
In Maslow's hierarchy of needs, this was the highest level; it was beyond any low-level interest, and the spiritual pleasure it brought was incomparable to any other interest.
The key was that acquiring it did not require a great cost. Even if you were tired to the point of muscle soreness, it was just the character in the game who was tired, not affecting the next day's life.
Instead, going to bed early meant you would be even more energetic the next day.
All of the above was just Chu Guang's wild guess when he returned to the outpost with his loot and saw the players so busy.
Of course, he couldn't possibly know what the players were thinking.
For the Manager, such things were utterly unimportant and not a concern.
As long as the number of players making reservations always exceeded the list, there was no need to worry about running out of fresh recruits to sweat in toil.
Giving up the game?
AFK?
The same old saying applied: please leave your helmet and account to those in need, and try a more primitive gaming method.
Back to the main point.
The outing this time was quite fruitful.
Two 5mm steel pipe rifles, 62 rounds of 5mm ammunition, and three backpacks that hadn't been searched yet.
These were all found on the two Looters and the unlucky soul they had chased to death.
Chu Guang was a man who disliked waste, including the Mutated Hyena that had been shot in the neck, which he took as well.
Taming did not affect its taste, after all, to Chu Guang, it was all Variants.
He handed the Mutated Hyena over to Brother Stir-Fry Egg, the cook, and then Chu Guang started searching through the backpacks he had found with Night Ten and Trash Lord, two other players.
"Matches, a compass, a map, and... some dried meat? And some plastic chips? What's written on these things?"
Hearing Night Ten's muttering, Trash Lord, with his not-so-nimble paws, also came over and took a curious look, pinching one of the chips closer for examination.
"Sort of looks like gambling chips from a casino."
"Give me the plastic chips, I can use them."
Chu Guang calmly confiscated the twenty-odd white "plastic chips"; anyhow, these things were useless to other players.
Then, he turned to the dried meat that Night Ten had in his hand.
"...Forget the dried meat, I suggest you don't eat it."
Night Ten, who was about to take a bite, froze.
"Why?"
Chu Guang thought for a moment and chose his words carefully.
"Looters usually aren't picky eaters. You can't be sure what kind of meat that is."
Trash Lord hadn't figured it out yet, but Night Ten had already tossed the dried meat aside in disgust.
Even in a game, he couldn't accept certain realities.
Seeing Night Ten's reaction, Chu Guang became curious about how these players thought, so he turned to Trash Lord and asked.
"What does it feel like to kill someone?"
Trash Lord was taken aback, scratching his head.
"I didn't notice..."
What feelings could a game evoke? He had played gorier games than this before.
The blood effects in this Game weren't particularly exaggerated, which is why he hadn't paid them much attention at that moment.
However...
As he rushed forward and plunged the javelin into the chest of the last Looter, blood splattered onto him, and in that instant, he suddenly felt a craving to eat.
It was like a biological instinct.
Chu Guang looked at the "Lizard man" with some surprise, not expecting this player's psychological resilience to be unexpectedly strong.
Could it be that dreams diminished the sensation of death?
Or perhaps the players had a kind of filter in their view of this world that he didn't understand.
It wasn't clear.
After all, this device wasn't designed by Chu Guang, and he had never used the helmets of the players, nor did he know if the world they saw was the same as the one he saw.
It looked like he would need to talk more with the players, using his identity as a planner...
...
By five o'clock in the afternoon, the Enclosing Wall on the north side of the sanatorium was basically repaired.
It had to be said, these players were simply geniuses.
Chu Guang even felt that his NPC was redundant.
Some Talents, although not written on the Attribute Panel, were etched in their bones; given a piece of land, they could turn it into a field by tomorrow.
Even if the server reset and the world was destroyed tomorrow, they could rebuild it, brick by brick.
The treasures on the construction site were not just those gray-blue pebbles but also the mountains of cement chunks wrapped in burlap sacks.
These things were too heavy, ordinary survivors couldn't carry them or make use of them, so they remained as they were at the outset of the nuclear war.
Although the cement had long since hardened and could no longer be mixed with sand to pour foundations, if you changed your thinking, using it directly as blocks to build the Wall was excellent.
At least, much more reliable than the yellow mud bricks that Old White had fired!
Under the lead of "Spare people under the knife," players drove four to five meter long pine logs into the earth, stacking the cement chunks brought over from the construction site in the middle, then inserting rebar stolen from the construction site to secure it, and finally pouring on a mix of calcium carbonate cement.
Once the cement dried, a simple but sturdy concrete fortification was completed.
As for the inside of the Wall, they used cement chunks and concrete waste to build a slope.
If attacked, players inside the Wall could simply crawl on the slope and take advantage of the cover to retaliate against the invaders.
Considering the further expansion of the Outpost in the future, another line of defensive works could be built on the outside of the Fortress, in conjunction with sentry posts and watchtowers for alert.
"... The terrain of Wetland Park is relatively flat overall, and the area around the sanatorium is even more of a wooded plain with no steep slopes to serve as cover. I could chop down the trees around here, so that we would be able to spot any targets approaching the Outpost at the first opportunity!"
"That's fine, bro, what exactly do you do in real life?" Old White looked at the new player beside him with surprise.
He had a bit of a rememberance of the ID "Spare people under the knife," but only a little; he remembered it was someone who joined the group some time ago.
He didn't expect that the small Game group actually harbored so many experts.
Spare people under the knife gave a shy smile, saying a bit abashedly.
"I'm just a civil engineering dog, a marginal figure in my unit. I spend my days drinking tea and reading newspapers, and hardly anyone gives me a second look."
"No, no, you did well! To be honest, I never thought that we'd finish an entire Wall today."
"Too kind, you're too kind!"
Evening had arrived, and the sky was tinged with yellow.
The player designated as chef, Egg Fry Brother, had set up a large pot in the Open Space in front of the sanatorium and threw in the fish that Wild Wind had caught from the lake to make a pot of pine nut fresh fish soup.
The players all sat down on the ground, each with a bowl, along with a piece of smoked meat. A spoonful of fish soup and a bite of meat made for a distinct flavor as they ate.
Of course.
Not everyone could adapt to this kind of flavor.
For example, Teng Teng, sitting on the ground, was holding her nose and looking at the bowl in her hands with a pained expression.
"Ugh, so fishy..."
Whether in the Game or in real life, she was very sensitive to smells and couldn't accept this heavy type of Cooking.
Egg Fry Brother, who was nearby, heard her and rolled his eyes.
"You think I want to... There's not even cooking wine here, I've done my best."
His expression clearly said, take it or leave it.
"Just make do with it. You'll go hungry in the Game if you don't eat," Night Ten also comforted from the side, "Why don't you pinch your nose and gulp it down? I can help."
Teng Teng scooted away.
"That won't be necessary."
Speaking of which, did NPCs need to eat?
Teng Teng glanced around and noticed that the Manager was also near.
However, he had not dined with the players, only staying for a while before hurrying off again.
And when he returned, not a few players who were close saw that his face was ashen, and he seemed to be in a bad mood.
The players stirred.
Old White, noticing the situation not far away, became curious and put down his bowl, standing up from the ground.
He walked quickly forward and pulled aside Wild Wind, who was nearby, to ask.
"Brother, what happened?"
Wild Wind looked grave and spoke in a heavy tone.
"I heard..."
"Apparently, someone died."