Chapter 537.3: The Straw That Broke The Camel's Back

"Someone wants to see you."

Spielberg swallowed hard. "Who...?"

"You’ll know when you get there."

At her words, a bitter expression crossed Spielberg’s face.

Anyone who could kill someone so openly in this city, especially in a prison, had to be from the inner city.

To be honest, he didn’t want to meet someone that dangerous. Too bad it wasn’t like he had a choice.

After all, he had just seen her crush a powerful awakener like she was swatting a bug. Killing him would probably take a single second... Or less.

"Can I... say goodbye to my friends?" he asked, cautiously.

From behind the cold, black visor came the reply he expected. "No."

...

It had been snowing continuously in the River Valley Province. It hadn’t been light snow either!

To prevent the accumulated snow from collapsing rooftops in the western district, Dawn City had mobilized a group of players and local residents to help with snow removal.

Though the pay wasn’t much, the task awarded regional reputation. Some players who were interested in public affairs immediately grabbed ladders and rushed out without complaint.

After all, they had strength to spare.

During winter, the number of mutants in River Valley Province dropped sharply, many of the creatures had gone into hibernation. Before the Tide arrived in the Spring, Chu Guang needed to find something for those energetic players to do. Otherwise, those dirty troublemakers would definitely grow too bored... Once those fools didn’t have things to do, they would definitely stir up huge trouble.

Seeing the residents of the shelter roll up their sleeves to help, the citizens of Dawn City also joined in. Some held ladders, others passed out shovels.

Compared to the previous year, winter was much more manageable.

Outside of internal New Alliance matters, Chu Guang had been keeping a close eye on their neighbors.

He wasn’t actually scheming against them, but out of concern that the shitshow there might blow up.

Currently, over 200 players were stationed in Boulder Town. Occasionally, they would post updates from their experiences there onto the official forums.

Those players were like the New Alliance’s eyes planted inside Boulder Town. Chu Guang had already instructed Little Seven to compile and summarize their posts, filtering for high-confidence intelligence.

Based on Little Seven’s compilation, the situation in Boulder Town was far more exaggerated than Chu Guang had anticipated.

If the New Alliance's external debt was ballooning rapidly, then Boulder Town's inflation had nearly overshadowed their towering walls.

There was no doubt Malvern had lost control of inflation.

After the riot in the industrial zone, the illusion of prosperity had crumbled like an avalanche. The fuse that Chu Guang predicted had finally been lit.

Facing the invisible crisis, Malvern hadn’t been entirely passive. But the cards he could play were few and weak.

With nothing left in his bag of tricks, he pulled in Dulong and resorted to some rather dim-witted administrative interventions to meddle in the industrial zone's production.

For example, he forcefully intercepted a batch of goods meant for fulfilling New Alliance orders and redirected the intermediate products into his own supply chain, or sent finished goods directly to local stores. The priority was to restock Boulder Town’s shelves first.

The New Alliance factories didn’t mind.

The New Alliance’s Financial Department had already issued an early warning, advising everyone to prepare for an impending earthquake. They had to accelerate industrial substitution, and source intermediate products from outside Boulder Town to avoid chain-reaction defaults.

But Boulder Town’s industries were not so lucky.

Many skilled workers were living in the prison, and with the workers on a collective strike, their production lines had nearly ground to a halt.

Now the elites had finally realized where goods on the shelves actually came from. But instead of thinking critically, they applied blunt fixes for complex problems.

They could stop fulfilling orders for the New Alliance and prioritize their shops, but they needed someone to pay the price for defaulting.

Unfortunately, Malvern and Dulong seemed unwilling to do that. Nor did they want to cover the inflated cost of raw materials. On top of that, they demanded the factory owners sell goods below cost and continue repaying expansion loans.

They were basically robbing themselves!

These factory owners already had slim margins. Now they were expected to sacrifice what little profit remained, or even take losses, to help Malvern’s regime suppress the inflation his overheated economy had caused.

The New Alliance also squeezed their factories, but at least they did so systematically, with rules and order. They didn’t just hack away blindly like Malvern’s camp.

With no other options, the industrial tycoons had to get creative. Those with connections bent the rules, smuggling banned goods across city lines. After all, neither Malvern nor Dulong dared to block shipments from Sid.

Those without connections had no choice but to accept their fate, but that didn’t mean they were willing to accept losses. After all, they still controlled the means of production. If they couldn’t sell milk, they would pour it out. If they weren’t allowed to dump it, they would butcher the cows for meat. If knives weren’t allowed, they would starve the cows. Or else, they would just drive the herd straight into their neighbor’s backyard.

Dulong’s intervention achieved little. He and Malvern had underestimated people’s greed under hardship.

Shelves were quickly stripped bare. Once the crisis ignited, it became a black hole that swallowed everything thrown into it.

Goods meant for affordable sale turned into commodities reserved for insiders or highest bidders. And those who obtained large quantities weren’t content with survival, they hoarded for six months ahead and siphoned off stock to resell for profit.

Even squirrels knew to hoard acorns many times their size for winter. Humans, being even greedier, hoarded far more. Soap and sausages became hard currency, followed by cigarettes and liquor. Those who couldn’t acquire hard goods converted useless chips into other assets, like bonds or S coins.

The number of chips circulating inside the walls was exponentially greater than the total available goods. The excess capital, with nowhere to go, scattered like roaches in every direction.

Still, no investment was safer than silver coins.

Soon, small food vendors began appearing outside the walls. Those were New Alliance merchants. They didn’t want the increasingly worthless chips, only silver coins.

The wealthy of Boulder Town had to first exchange a whole bag of chips on the black market just to get a few silver coins, which they then used to buy potatoes, corn, and daily necessities at the city gates.

Those pushing carts became beacons of hope in the snow, lighting up countless hungry faces.

Yet in the shadows beyond that light, other figures moved swiftly.

They wore clean cotton clothes, moved with elegance like businessmen, and upon spotting New Alliance traders, approached them quietly with a little booklet.

Inside were items never seen on the open market. They were selling the good stuff.

They were all middlemen.

They dared to sell anything, and accepted anything in return.

Some worked for inner city nobles or factory owners. Others were mercenaries.

In their hands, a thousand cotton coats could buy a loom that produced ten thousand meters of fabric a day. A few bottles of strong liquor could get a nearly-new military exoskeleton. If they had no liquor, a few crates of beer or canned food would do.

Some even flashed black cards, promising that if you gave them enough silver coins, they would bring them into the inner city where the grand casino was open to have fun they couldn’t in the New Alliance.

The casino still operated. The Death Lottery still held daily drawings. Malvern was still scrambling to put out fires, but the flames consuming his haystack only burned brighter.

Everyone in that casino had gone a little mad...

And just when Chu Guang thought they had reached the limit, a piece of devastating news arrived from Cheng Yan.

After hearing the report, Chu Guang’s expression darkened slightly. "Spielberg is dead?"