Adrenaline was a funny thing: it came fast, but it faded just as quickly.
The moment the last Zergling was dismembered into raw materials, the wild fervor that had sustained the hundred-man army collapsed.
Instantaneously, the 100% realistic physiological feedback stepped in to teach everyone a lesson.
On the Gobi desert two kilometers outside Buzhou Outpost, the scene resembled a massive refugee evacuation.
“I can’t… I really can’t move anymore…”
Construction Site Palu slumped onto the sand without a shred of dignity, his tongue lolling far out like a heat-struck Husky.
Beside him lay a mountain of loot: six Zergling thighs, a massive bundle of high-purity iron-rich ore, and a huge bag of silicon sand scooped up from who-knows-where.
The damned physics engine of *Stars Online* chose this exact moment to bare its fangs.
The encumbrance system was no simple subtraction of data; it was honest, unyielding biomechanical feedback.
Every gram pressing down on a player’s back translated into raw muscle soreness and joint agony, a relentless reminder that their cloned bodies had reached their absolute limits.
“Listen up, everyone. Good news or bad, I have to lay it out,” Li Lei said, wrapping a strip of cloth around his raw, chafed shoulder while frowning at the scattered mess.
“With this much gear, there’s no way we can haul it all back by hand today.”
“Are you kidding me?!”
“I have to go to work tomorrow! Who has time to pull off some hardcore manual transport here?”
“Then we cut our losses,” Li Lei said.
Though it pained him, he issued a decisive command.
“Ditch the low-value silicon sand and common rocks. Take only the bug carapaces and rare metals. We haul the valuable stuff back first.”
“Bullshit!”
A furious roar cut Li Lei off.
Construction Site Palu leaped up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, throwing himself over the pile of ore like a mother protecting her cub.
“These are high-purity redstone ores! I checked the descriptions—this is an absolute necessity for smelting specialized steel! And this silicon sand will be needed to manufacture microchips later! You want me to toss them? That’s a crime! A sacrilege against industrial civilization!”
“Then you carry them!” Keyboard Warrior No. 2 shouted, pointing right at Palu’s nose.
“If you’re so tough, go ahead! I’m not carrying these useless rocks. I’m exhausted!”
“What the hell do you know? Without an industrial base, what are you going to make gun barrels out of? Your big mouth?”
“Oh, wow, look at you getting a superiority complex over a game!”
The two factions instantly dissolved into a shouting match.
On one side were pragmatists chasing efficiency; on the other were diehard industrialists who had *every single screw matters* etched into their DNA.
Stuck in the middle, Li Lei listened to the bickering echoing in his ears and looked at his ragged, bloodstained, yet insatiably greedy “subordinates.” His head throbbed with a vicious headache.
This wasn’t an interstellar expeditionary force.
This was a band of stranded bandits who had failed a raid and ended up trapped.
Suddenly, Hardcore Lao Wang, the tech-geek in the crowd, slapped his thigh hard.
“Stop arguing! All of you, shut up! Look at the tech tree! Look at the tech tree right now!”
“What?”
“We killed so many bugs earlier and turned in a mountain of resources! The system prompt says we have enough tech points!” Lao Wang’s hands shook with excitement as he pointed at an icon on his holographic panel.
“There’s [Vehicle Engineering] under Tier 2 access! It only costs 1,000 contribution points to unlock!”
“1,000 points? That’s robbery!”
“There are a hundred of us! If everyone chips in 10 points, we’re there!” Lao Wang’s eyes turned blood-red.
“Once we unlock this, we can build vehicles! With vehicles, forget these stupid rocks—we could haul the whole damn mountain back!”
Even an elementary schooler could do that math.
After a brief silence, an explosion of enthusiasm erupted that surpassed even their earlier rush to farm mobs.
“I’m in for 10 points! Hurry up!”
“Count me in! I don’t want to take another step on this miserable terrain!”
“Crowdfund it! Crowdfund for the minivan!”
…
High above in geosynchronous orbit.
[Ding! Spontaneous high-value crowdfunding detected among the player group.]
[Tier 2 Tech Branch: Vehicle Engineering, fully paid and unlocked by players.]
[Tier 2 Core Structure: Universal Industrial Mother Machine – Workshop Module, fully paid and redeemed by players.]
[Total player contribution points deducted: 2,000 points (equivalent to 200 energy points).]
Yao Qian froze for two seconds.
“Well, damn…”
He couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
“To avoid extra work, these guys really don’t mind spending big.”
He had originally planned to wait until the players were completely broken by the physical strain before appearing like a savior to bestow a bit of technical support, harvesting a wave of gratitude in the process.
Since the money was paid, then as a “conscientious game developer,” his service had to be top-tier.
“System, respond to the request.”
…
Back down at the base, the crowdfunding progress bar had just hit maximum.
Right at that moment, a sharp system notification pierced the night sky:
[Frontline technology request detected.]
[Authorization granted.]
[Commander Yao Qian has confirmed deployment.]
[Strategic support arriving.]
Everyone subconsciously stopped arguing and raised their heads in unison.
In the pitch-black night sky, a lone star suddenly flared to life.
A sound like rolling thunder pressed down from the zenith, and the earth began to vibrate at the frequency of the noise.
“Holy shit, what is that?”
The fireball grew larger and larger, trailing an orange-red streak several kilometers long as it plunged straight toward the crowd.
The blinding glare lit up the Gobi desert for miles around as bright as day, stretching even the shadows of tiny sand grains ridiculously long.
A terrifying sonic boom cloud detonated in midair, sending out rings of white shockwaves.
The overwhelming pressure made every player hold their breath as if the sky itself were falling.
“Is that a freaking nuke? A scripted death?”
“Run! It’s gonna hit!”
Just as the panic-stricken crowd prepared to scramble for cover, the fireball abruptly halted a thousand meters above the ground.
*Sizzle—BOOM!*
Four jets of eerie blue retro-thrust flames burst from the bottom of the falling object like four glowing pillars propping up the heavens.
The immense counterforce forcibly canceled out its downward kinetic energy, distorting the superheated air into a shrieking vortex.
A violent blast of air slammed onto the ground first, instantly whipping up a localized sandstorm.
Several players closest to the drop site were blown off their feet, rolling away like loose tumbleweeds.
*THUD!!!*
A colossal impact shook the bedrock.
The giant entity slammed into the base.
A visible shockwave laced with gravel swept outward in all directions, forcing the players to press themselves flat against the sand to avoid being flipped over.
Dust and smoke billowed, blotting out the sky.
“Cough, cough… What’s going on?”
Li Lei spat out a mouthful of sand and scrambled up awkwardly, squinting forward through the haze.
As the wild wind subsided, the dust slowly cleared.
A ten-meter-tall giant metal construct towered before everyone’s eyes.
It was painted a heavy, dark slate gray, its surface covered in complex heat-dissipation grilles and hydraulic lines.
White steam generated by high temperatures hissed from its exhaust vents.
It wasn’t a meteorite; it was a heavy orbital drop pod radiating a raw, industrial aesthetic of pure violence.
*Pfft—*
With the heavy sigh of hydraulic pressure releasing, the half-meter-thick armored door on the front of the pod slowly slid open to both sides.
A torrent of condensed white mist spilled out, blanketing the ground.
Through the hazy white fog, a series of heavy metallic impacts rang out.
*Clang.
Clang.
Clang.*
It was the sound of steel stomping upon the earth.
A tall figure strode out from the depths of the white mist.
It was Yao Qian.
However, his current appearance completely shattered everyone’s expectations.
He was no longer the NPC who did nothing but jabber over the radio broadcast; now, he wore a full-body power armor suit with insanely sleek lines.
The armor was pitch-black, looking capable of absorbing all light, its material possessing a premium texture reminiscent of obsidian.
Eerie blue energy light flickered at the joints, and the miniature fusion reactor at his chest emitted a deep, powerful hum.
On his fully enclosed tactical visor, a V-shaped red lens cut a soul-stirring trail of light through the dark.
[Archon I Power Armor].
In that moment, he simply stood there, looking like an insurmountable mountain of steel.
Then look at the players themselves—
Wearing tattered grass skirts, holding crude guns welded out of steel pipes, sporting helmets made of bug shells, some even barefoot.
How was this even the same game’s art style?
This was the absolute difference between a pay-to-win whale and a penniless F2P refugee!
This was a max-level end-game account walking into the beginner village!
The entire area was so quiet that not even a breath could be heard.
There was only the whine of the wind blowing through the armor gaps.
“Holy… crap…”
No one knew who spoke first, but immediately afterward, a unified wave of exclamations echoed across the desert.
“Incredible!”
“What is that? Iron Man? A Gundam? A Space Marine?”
“Coach, I want to learn this! I’ll pay whatever it costs! Open the top-up channel for me, you bastard!”
Yao Qian ignored the noisy rowdiness of these country bumpkins.
He turned his head slightly, his gaze beneath the V-shaped visor sweeping across the field before he reached out one hand to grab the massive silver metal cube beside him.
The cube looked to weigh at least two tons, but under the power armor’s hydraulic assistance, he lifted it as effortlessly as picking up a chick.
*Boom!*
He set the cube down heavily on the ground and rapidly keyed commands into the control panel on his wrist.
“Deploy.”
*Clack-clack-clack—*
Densely packed gears engaged inside the silver cube.
Immediately after, it began to wildly reconfigure itself like a Transformer.
Mechanical arms extended out, automatically drilling into the ground to anchor the base; folded metal plates unfolded layer by layer into control consoles and conveyor belts; laser-cutting heads auto-calibrated, casting a dim red glow.
In just ten seconds, a fifty-square-meter [Universal Industrial Mother Machine – Workshop Module], packed with precision mechanics, appeared inside the base out of thin air.
Yao Qian turned around to face the stunned players.
His deep voice, processed through the visor’s synthesizer and amplified through external speakers, resonated in everyone’s ears with a metallic, commanding presence:
“Pioneers.”
“Since you have proven your determination and worth, the era of measuring the land on foot is over.”
He raised the scepter in his hand and pointed straight at the roaring mother machine:
“From this moment on—be it off-road vehicles, armored cars, or future heavy tanks…”
“I want you to use an iron torrent to utterly crush this planet’s resistance!”
These words, paired with his mind-blowingly cool power armor, were utterly electrifying.
In a normal script, the protagonist should be receiving countless idolizing gazes and vows of eternal loyalty right about now.
Yao Qian observed the crowd through his tactical visor, ready to enjoy the players’ cheers.
However, when the system captured the players’ micro-expressions and private chat log feeds, the smile beneath his visor instantly froze, and a bizarre chill crept up his spine.
The hundred-plus players were indeed staring at him, but their eyes…
were completely wrong.
Those were not the eyes of people looking at a leader.
Those were the eyes of hungry wolves looking at a slab of fat meat.
Those were the eyes of robbers looking at a bank vault.
Those were eyes with the word “GREED” carved onto their foreheads.
Li Lei’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his eyes glued to the joint seams of Yao Qian’s power armor, seemingly looking for disassembly points.
Construction Site Palu gripped his crude pipe gun tightly, his gaze darting back and forth across the electromagnetic scepter, muttering under his breath as if calculating how much rare metal he could smelt out of that thing.
Breaking Bad quietly slipped out a bottle of newly mixed strong acid, his malicious gaze targeting the soles of Yao Qian’s feet, clearly wondering if he could dissolve the armor layer of the power boots.
At the same time, the public chat channel in Yao Qian’s field of vision was being spammed frantically:
“Brothers… does this BOSS drop gear?”
“If we strip that suit, can we salvage a nuclear battery out of it? Even giving me a single shin guard would do!”
“For a second just now, I actually wanted to club him over the head… is that thought normal?”
“This game has such high freedom. If we kill our own faction NPC, will he drop legendary items? Any brave soul wanna try? I’ll pitch in fifty cents!”
“Show us your health bar, Commander! As long as you show your health bar, forget a god, I’ll even kill the Buddha for you!”
Yao Qian silently closed the public channel.
*Looks like next time I step out, I’ll need to bring a couple more drone escorts…*