Chapter 675.3: Next Stop, French Fry Harbor!
A vast unclaimed land? But... wasn’t that the mutants ruled?
And would the settlers there really accept them?
Sensing their doubt, Tail straightened and continued energetically, “No need to worry! There are mutants, yes, but we’re talking about the New Alliance, the people who defeated the Hive of Clearspring City! A few beasts are nothing! These hides you see? They’re proof, they came from those same monsters!”
Tangible evidence spoke louder than any rumor.
The survivors of the Southern Archipelago Federation had once fled the Baiyue Province, and the kingdom in Oasis No.4 had also suffered huge losses while exploring those islands. Those defeated parties had every reason to spread tales of how terrifying and unconquerable the Baiyue wilderness was.
But now, the players of French Fry Harbor had not only settled that so-called untamable land, they had proven that the savage, bloodthirsty mutants could be overcome.
Most of the islanders didn’t fully understand what Tail meant by the “Hive of Clearspring City,” but one look at the piles of mutant hides around them was enough to convince them.
Still, one worry lingered.
“Will... they accept us?” asked a young lady, stepping hesitantly from the crowd.
“Of course!” Tail flashed her a confident grin and shot her a thumbs-up. “In fact, it was French Fry Harbor’s survivors who invited us to move there! They promise to keep everyone safe!”
“There are many powerful veterans there, slaying monsters and bosses is routine for them, but they’re short on hands for basic work. Not just tanning hides, but managing salt flats near the harbor, planting orchards later on... there’s plenty to do! As long as you’re willing to work, you’ll be paid just like today! You’ll be able to buy so many things!”
Seeing the hopeful spark return to those eyes, Tail couldn’t help but smile. “Of course, it’s still the beginning, conditions are rough, far from Ideal City’s standards. But I promise you, it’ll get better. So, who’s ready to come with me?”
The crowd grew louder, rippling outward with excitement and debate. Some faces shone with longing, others showed hesitation and fear of change.
Then, cutting through the noise, came a clear, steady voice. “I’m willing... I’ll go with you!”
The voice was familiar.
Sesame Paste turned, and saw Misa, the ponytailed girl, looking straight ahead with determination, pushing through the crowd.
Sesame was stunned, it was the first time she had ever seen that shy girl look so brave.
Tail’s eyes lit up as if discovering a new world. She struck a dramatic pose and said solemnly, “Oh! Young lady, you’d better think carefully! Once you board our pirate ship, uh, I mean, once you enter our harbor, you can’t go to Ideal City anymore!”
Misa smiled softly. “Ideal City... That’s someone else’s home. No matter how wonderful it is, it isn’t ours.”
She glanced toward the port, at the curious faces watching them from afar, and continued with quiet resolve. “Rather than living forever under someone else’s roof, I’d rather have a home of my own. Even if it’s humble now, I’ll help it grow.”
Then she turned to her companions, raising her voice. “Everyone... how long has it been since we lived under the sun like this?”
Since the day they were herded into Gallon Port’s camps, sold like livestock to the highest bidder, since the day the Xilande Empire stripped them of all freedom and property for no reason...
Her voice wasn’t loud, but it resonated deeply. Even Granny Sangru, her wrinkled face trembling, stepped forward to take Misa’s hand. “Misa... you said what all of us have felt but couldn’t put into words. It’s been in my heart for so long.”
She turned to Sesame Paste and Tail, gratitude shining in her aged eyes. “I’m willing to go with you, to that new settlement. And if there’s anything we can do to help, please, tell us.”
Her words lit a spark. Voices rose one after another,
“I’ll go too!”
“Please take us with you!”
Sesame Paste and Roshan’s eyes glimmered with emotion, and Tail cheered loudly, “Then it’s settled! Next stop, French Fry Harbor! Roro, fire up the boiler, we’re setting sail!”
“Huh? Who’s the captain here?!”
“Don’t sweat the details! Go, go, go!”
Watching the two mischief-makers burst into laughter, Sesame Paste sighed with a helpless smile.
“Wait, uh, shouldn’t we clean their ship first? They already paid us.”
Tail froze mid-jump. “... Giao! I almost forgot!”
“HAHAHA!”
Their laughter rode the sea breeze into the deepening night, mingling with the rhythm of the waves.
From afar, Sisi stood watching with a faint smile, notebook in her arms.
It was still the wasteland, no doubt, but with these cheerful companions beside her, she often forgot that fact.
She turned and went back to the cabin.
Laying her notebook open on the desk, she spread out the newspaper she had bought that morning, clipping out the noteworthy articles. The game’s side quests were deeply hidden, players had to dig for clues, analyze details, and connect dots themselves.
Thanks to Shelter 70’s legacy, the Southern Archipelago Federation’s media network was surprisingly developed. It was much easier to gather intelligence than back in Silvermoon Bay.
And it wasn’t just for side-quest clues. She also needed to piece together hints about the Southern Seas War, and find the right timing to infiltrate Shelter 70 itself.
That place was under full naval blockade, warships patrolling above, submersibles mining and sweeping below.
It wasn’t somewhere one could sneak into wearing just a diving suit.
The Federation, after all, had been created by Shelter 70. From her observations, they resembled the New Alliance, only without players.
They had tamed their own wasteland and built order, but over time, the Shelter members had drifted apart from the locals, turning from pioneers into an untouchable upper class. Thus their fate diverged completely from Camp 101’s.
What puzzled her most, though, was how sloppy the cause of this war seemed, full of contradictions and loose ends.
Not just the cause. Even the battle reports themselves hid odd inconsistencies.
“Golden Coast: Research Vessel Sinks... huh. They really have a lot of ships.” Murmuring the headline aloud, Sisi clipped the article and pasted it in her notebook beside three others.
Rising, she walked to the map and circled a spot in the northern seas of the Southern Archipelago, marking the approximate location mentioned.
Four red circles now dotted the same northern waters.
Her expression grew thoughtful as she mumbled, “The fourth one already... and all outside the main trade routes.”
Could there really be submarines lurking in those areas?
She had no proof yet, but she could feel it. She was getting close to the truth.
