This Game Is Too Realistic
chapter-95-2-30041322

Although the sufferer also wanted to see his wife and child, only the administrator had authority over the shelter gate.

As a security guard, let alone open the gate, he didn't even have the qualifications to see the administrator.

Not only that.

In principle, after the shelter gate was closed, the radio would be silent immediately. No one was allowed to send messages to the outside world in any form. If found, they would be severely punished.

A large part of the reason why he could send signals to the outside world and receive information from the outside world was that the shelter he was in is a bit special.

The shelter hid a low-power signal tower on the surface, and monitoring the signals in the nearby area every day was his job.

Yes, he took advantage of his position.

For whatever reason he did it, this was not a glorious thing.

He hadn't even figured out how to confess, let alone how to beg the administrator to open the gate.

The worst result was that when he explained all this truthfully, he would be sentenced to life imprisonment by the administrator on the charge of a traitor. He would be kept in a dormant cabin forever, and tried by law after the order was restored.

At that time, he would lose contact with his wife and child forever.

The above were all Chu Guang's speculation based on the content of the diary.

After all, the diary did not record the psychological activities of the sufferer, but briefly stated clues about "the silence in the radio" and "the door being unable to be opened".

Later, out of guilt for his wife and child, the sufferer guided them via radio and found some hidden supply points that would not be marked on the regular evacuation map.

The supplies there were very rich as they contained not only food, medicine, and clean drinking water, but even police weapons for anti-riot purposes.

These supplies allowed the survivors of the tire factory to live a period of worry-free life and even rescue another group of survivors that wandered over from the nearby city.

The owner of this diary had naturally become the savior in the eyes of these people, and even the hero in the eyes of other people's wives and children.

But this worry-free life did not last long.

It could be seen from the second half of the diary that as the supplies were exhausted, the conflicts and disagreements between people gradually intensified.

At the beginning, everyone, regardless of age or sex, was able to enjoy two boxes of canned meat, an unlimited supply of self-heating rice, and even iced and delicious beer to drink every day.

Later, the survivor community began to ban alcohol. Meat could only be reserved for young and middle-aged men who went out to explore, hunt, scavenge, and pregnant women. The porridge became thinner and thinner and even had to be mixed with some bark.

In the end, all the hoarded supplies were exhausted. But the weather only got colder and colder.

Everything was getting worse. There was no sign of improvement at all, and even the most optimistic people couldn't see any hope at all.

Some people said that the winter would last a long time.

Some people said that it was a rumor and that there was no nuclear winter at all.

Then there was a voice rebutting, saying that maybe it was not just nuclear weapons. After all, it was once said in the news that they had already mastered something more deterrent than nuclear weapons.

But if it really existed, was everything in front of them fake?

They had not seen even the most primitive nuclear bombs, and the source of their knowledge came from other people, so they couldn't distinguish what was true and what was just speculation and conjecture.

Suspicions and complaints spread among the survivors. Some chose to leave, while those who stayed gradually turned against each other.

Perhaps……

From the beginning, they shouldn't have taken in the wandering survivors.

But who was not a wanderer at this point?

In other words, who should they exclude?

When the disagreement increased to an irreconcilable degree, it eventually turned into a fierce conflict. The cause may just be a piece of moldy bread, or even a bone—it no longer mattered anymore.

The fight was finally suppressed by Xiao Li's gunshots, but from that moment on, his dream about being the savior was also completely shattered.

Sun Lai's child died in that fight, and she herself went crazy—disappearing in the heavy snow one night and never appearing again.

Xiao Li himself was immersed in regret and pain, and the content of the diary gradually moved to the other extreme, the original neat and meticulous writing becoming scribbled and perfunctory.

Sometimes, there was an entry once every few days, and sometimes, the owner of the diary forgot to even update it for a month.

The date on the last page was fixed in the fourth year of the Wasteland Era.

[... I am still looking for that shelter; that is my only hope. Although I know that hope is very slim, the outside world is hell. ]

This was the last line he wrote.

Until the end of his life, he was still looking for a utopia that he had never found.

"This diary can be put in a museum for exhibition... If, one day, museums and history become valuable on this planet again, someone should know what happened here."

"Forget it, it's better to update it on the official website. Mhm, keep it under the setting information of the 'Bloodhand Clan'."

"A server in another world is more reliable than a museum in the wasteland."

Although the diary explained the origin of the Bloodhand Clan, it did not mention the ending of Xiao Li.

But this was not important.

The bloody handprint on the cover, in a sense, has explained everything, and it was no accident that he left it.

Chu Guang once heard Hein say that two years ago, the leader of the Bloodhand Clan was not called "Bear", but a man called "Eagle". His body was hung on a street lamp not far from the entrance of the tire factory.

Before the "Eagle", it was the "Snake" whose eyes were scooped out.

In terms of even older leaders, no one could remember their names anymore.

Legend has it that none of the leaders of the Bloodhand Clan had a good end, and almost all of them were killed by their successors.

This diary with a bloody handprint seemed to be under a certain vicious curse. It was regarded as a spiritual totem by those marauders. Together with the bloody and violent culture, it has been passed down from generation to generation.

But in the generation of "Bear", the cycle of evil was finally shattered by the hammer of justice.

With a light sigh, Chu Guang closed the diary in his hand.

"Little Seven, I'm going to sleep. Help me turn off the lights, and remember to wake up Xia Yan."

"As for me, it's 1 o'clock in the afternoon… Forget it, let me sleep until I wake up naturally."

"Those spoils will be split after I wake up. If players ask you about it, you can tell them that... the appraisal of the spoils has not finished yet."

As we all know, unapprised equipment cannot be equipped. This is the common sense of MMORPGs, which is very reasonable.

And Little Seven's voice was always so sweet.

"Okay, Master."

"Night night."

The light in the room gradually softened, and the room finally returned to darkness.

Maybe Chu Guang would have a good dream.

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