Chapter 62 - Killing Field

62 -65 Killing Field

“That’s Yuan Zhixia, right?

I heard she just won some technology innovation competition award.

She probably doesn’t even need to take the college entrance exam to get into a top university.”

Han Letian sighed enviously, snapping shut the test paper on his desk that barely surpassed the average score, “Screw studying, I’m not doing it anymore!”

Sitting in the front row, Mu Yulu heard the commotion and turned around indifferently, “Didn’t you say your parents were considering sending you to study in the UK or Australia?”

Han Letian shrugged, “Oh, that plan is canceled.

There are constant terrorist attacks there, it’s not safe.”

In recent years, as the Slaughter Field Game continuously advances, already unstable regional situations have become even more volatile.

African Warlords are emerging one after another; with simple exoskeletons, suicide drones, gun-wielding robotic dogs, and other advanced weapons supplied by European Heavy Industry and Prometheus Laboratory Company, they wage incessant wars across Africa, causing millions of civilians to be displaced.

Compared to before the start of the Slaughter Field Game, warlords have significantly enriched their equipment arsenals, even the smaller warlords can afford light tanks—although there are frequent ridiculous incidents where tanks accidentally crush their own infantry.

These warlords attack and annex each other, sometimes forming alliances and sometimes betraying one another, with the situation changing daily.

On domestic forums, netizens jokingly call it the “All-Africa Chicken Dinner Competition,” and have named a total of five “Top Three African Warlords.”

Yes, three warlords consisting of five individuals, that makes sense, just like last century’s top three African tyrants made up of Mobutu, Bokassa, Amin, Masiye, and Duoyi, these five “almost human heroes.”

With Africa in such chaos, other regions are not faring much better.

The powder keg of the Middle East has been reignited, the Russia-Ukraine conflict escalates, and in South America, what started as drug lords fighting for territory has evolved into a cyberpunk-style corporate warfare.

Major multinational corporations have hollowed out many local governments in South America, managing every aspect of ordinary people’s needs including clothing, food, housing, medical care, and education.

People either sign contracts to join these companies as lifetime employees, or they flee their homelands to go abroad.

There is no middle option, even retreating to the countryside to become a self-sustaining farmer is not allowed—super corporations manipulate local South American governments to change laws, making it illegal to sell agriculture products that do not meet standards.

The same scenario is also unfolding in developed countries like Japan, Korea, Europe, and America—middle classes return to poverty for various reasons, and society is moving toward having only three classes: the super-rich, the working class, and the lower class.

It is almost like cyberpunk has infiltrated reality, no, in some ways it’s even worse than cyberpunk.

At least in the cyberpunk worldview, the lower classes can equip themselves with prosthetic parts, daringly breach the security of heavily fortified corporate buildings, and behead the corrupt corporate executives.

But in reality, the tycoons and conglomerates have already merged with the players.

Either by buying out players, hiring, forming alliances through marriage, or directly providing their own people with player qualifications.

Ordinary people who want to resist only have the option to become Summoners, possessing Extraordinary Power.

But once he becomes a player, his class status also changes.

Immediately, there is a group of people waving money earnestly, inviting him to join the company, offering him luxury cars, beautiful women, villas, and mansions.

Making him “one of their own.”

Li Cheng rubbed his temples, seeing the other side of the world through news stories he used to treat as bizarre anecdotes.

Whether it’s the African warlords, the chaotic wars in the Middle East, or the magical realism of South America; behind these strange phenomena lies a complete and rigorous logic.

More people, people who live in more pain and struggle, compelled to unleash their life’s potential, mean more player qualifications.

Meaning tickets to a brighter future.

That’s why giants such as European Heavy Industry and Prometheus delight in selling weapons at low prices, seeking potential players in the chaotic lands of Africa.

Multinational corporations are busy monopolizing more populations, willingly starting wars for this purpose.

Ordinary people either live in confusion, amidst the turbulent situations, not knowing whether tomorrow or accident will come first.

Either become a player, step into the killing field, tread into the death vortex of dying if not growing stronger, walking on the knife’s edge every day.

The chaos has arrived, for ordinary people, for players, it is the same.

Thinking of this, Li Cheng raised his head, looking at the slogan on the classroom wall with mixed feelings.

Past slogans usually read, “Small streams cannot form rivers or seas without accumulation, nor can one reach a thousand miles without taking each step,” or “Unite and strive, seek truth and progress” with motivational words about studying.

Somehow, from some point, it had changed to the simple and somewhat odd slogans “Great Harmony Under Heaven” and “For All Humanity.”

This must be the arrangement by the nation…

just unsure when humanity can truly unite in this cruel world.

As Li Cheng was contemplating this, Han Letian rolled his eyes, cleared his throat, and muttered softly, “Hey Lao Cheng, did you know?

Zhao Hua from class nine argued with the shopkeeper over a 5G Xiaomi for a whole day and missed Guo Qilin’s Eastern Wu opera ‘Fire Burning Chibi’.”

“Hmm?”

Evans, who was busily writing at the front of the classroom, heard the keywords and suddenly looked up, “What Huawei, what 5G, what Xiaomi, what Qilin, what Wu Jing?”

On the other side of the corridor, Zhan Xinyu also looked up, sneered, and said: “Wow, are you a Weibo bot?

Get excited just by hearing keywords?

Did the Foreign Ministry give you funding?”

“This isn’t your business, go look at your subscribed ‘Observer Website’.”

“What’s wrong with ‘Observer Website’?

It’s more objective than your CNN, BBC, FOX, right?”

The natural enemies slammed their pens down and immediately started arguing with each other, filling the classroom with a lively atmosphere.

“Ah, that’s refreshing.”

Han Letian had a relieved expression on his face, happily pouring himself a soda.

Watching Evans and Zhan Xinyu argue back and forth as the two unique characters in the class was a real treat, enough to gulp down two big bowls of plain rice.

Another day of campus routine came to a close amid cheerful atmosphere, with students heading home one after another, while Li Cheng, carrying his backpack, leisurely arrived at the front of the amphitheater classroom.

The door was unlocked, with only Yuan Zhixia inside, busily writing her homework at the desk.

Li Cheng looked around, “Uh…

where is everyone?”

“No one came.”

Yuan Zhixia methodically packed up her homework, came up to Li Cheng with a teacup, and suddenly spoke seriously, “Two million three hundred twenty-seven thousand four hundred eleven and sixty cents.”

Li Cheng was utterly confused by the string of numbers, “What does that mean?”

“The price of a fine quality ‘Incense Ashes Bomb.'”

Yuan Zhixia sipped her tea, smiling, “Am I right, Mr.

Ant?”

“Sigh…” Li Cheng sighed, with not much surprise on his face, politely extended his hand, “Didn’t expect to meet you here, Stack Soldier.”

Yuan Zhixia, who had prepared her line, almost spit out her tea, “Who the hell is Stack Soldier?!”

In a southern province, a young man in a plaid shirt was code-tapping in an internet company’s office building, and sneezed inexplicably.