owlsbooks Chapter 25 Negotiation
Chapter 25 Negotiation
The acid fog in the shipwreck area was incredibly thick, and the firelight in the camp flickered in the fog, only illuminating an area of about ten meters around.
At this moment, the whole roasted lamb is holding a broken iron bowl, squatting next to the large pot of soup, and unceremoniously pouring the last mouthful of broth into its mouth before letting out a long, satisfied burp.
His brand-new white vest and shorts, which came with the system, looked completely out of place in the camp full of black mud.
Just as the players were joking about the embarrassing incident of the crane collapsing, the emblem on their arms lit up.
A warning message from the agent suddenly popped up in the team chat:
"Attention, a big monster is coming, and it's armed!"
As soon as he finished speaking, several figures emerged from the thick fog surrounding the camp.
The heavy leather boots pounded through the mud, leaving slippery marks with each step. The group of five strode into the firelight area of the camp.
The leader was a gaunt old man with a black leather eye patch over his left eye, and his right eye, which was as sharp as a vulture's, was the only one visible.
He was wearing an extremely elegant woolen overcoat, and slowly and deliberately twirling a solid gold pocket watch in his hand.
In this shipwreck area where people can't even afford warm clothes, this outfit and that gold watch are more intimidating than any weapon.
Behind the old man were four muscular, fierce-looking elite thugs.
Instead of the iron pipes or machetes commonly found in shipwreck areas, the four men were all carrying heavy military-grade crossbows.
The crossbow strings were already loaded, and the gleaming bolts were aimed straight at the center of the camp.
With a clang, dozens of low-level laborers who were carrying scrap metal dropped their tools in fright the moment they saw who it was.
They knelt in the mud as if electrocuted, their heads pressed tightly to the ground, their bodies trembling uncontrollably.
The underground emperor of the shipwreck area, Old One-Eyed.
If Bolton can give them life, then Old One-Eye can give them death.
In stark contrast to the extreme fear of the natives were the players in the camp.
Xiao Yu, carrying the iron pipe, examined the four heavy crossbows with great interest. Little Snail wiped his face, his gaze fixed on the old one-eyed man's gold watch.
The whole roasted lamb didn't even bother to get up; it remained squatting by the pot, looking the extremely cool NPC up and down with the same gaze one would use to watch a CG cutscene.
The new storyline was triggered right after I was resurrected. Not bad at all.
The one-eyed old man stopped, rubbed his gold watch in his hand, and snapped it shut with a click.
His single eye swept over the kneeling laborers, finally settling on the group of strangely dressed outsiders. He felt no offense, but rather a surge of intense curiosity.
He had spent decades in the shipwreck area and had seen countless ruthless characters. But these few men, facing the loaded crossbows, showed not only no fear, but even a longing in their eyes.
How can I describe this feeling... It's as if they're saying: I really want to have sex with you!
It seems this group of people are not only unafraid of him and Bolton, but also unafraid of death.
"You've got some nerve," the old one-eyed man said hoarsely. "You've taken out Bolton's sentries and are now undertaking massive construction projects here. Do you think Bolton's too old to wield a knife, or do you think you're in charge of this shipwreck area?"
"Activate the monster! Activate the monster!" Xiaoyu gripped the iron pipe and sent a message in the team chat.
"Don't move." The little snail grabbed Xiaoyu's shoulder, stepped over the crowd, and strode to a stop three meters away from the old one-eyed man.
Faced with this underground emperor, the little snail adopted a negotiating stance.
"I don't know if Bolton can even wield a knife, but I do know that her method of harvesting in the shipwreck area is far too inefficient."
The little snail pointed to the laborers kneeling on the ground behind him, who were clearly much more energetic than a few days ago, and then took out a wooden board with simple diagrams drawn on it.
"We traded a pot of soup for absolute labor. We are building a deep-water port, and once completed, this place can completely avoid the heavy taxes of the upper echelons of Port Bolton and Pearl, and become a free trade hub. We have labor and planning, and we can turn this wasteland into a gold mine."
The old one-eyed man listened quietly, a strange glint flashing in his right eye. This closed-loop economic system truly impressed him.
"The idea is good," the one-eyed old man sneered, "but your docks can't even handle a pile of scrap metal right now. If I'm not mistaken, your dilapidated structure collapsed just now, didn't it?"
The little snail nodded without hesitation, directly stating its needs: "That's right. The iron we refine ourselves is too brittle to lift that hundred-ton wreckage underwater. We need special steel, or enchanted load-bearing equipment. Once this problem is solved, the dock can be operational immediately. Therefore, we are open to cooperation. Whoever can provide this high-strength material will receive 10% of the dock's future net profit."
These words were authorized by Little Snail during their previous discussion. In Lynn's eyes, Little Snail was a qualified project manager, and he could entrust certain tasks to him with peace of mind.
But in the mind of the snail group leader, it was a different story! As expected of the first batch of closed beta testers, this game has so much content!
After hearing what the little snail said, the old one-eyed man suddenly burst into laughter, the sound of which was particularly jarring in the empty camp.
"Young man, you're pretty good at getting something for nothing."
The old one-eyed man's smile vanished, replaced by a menacing glint in his eyes: "To tell you the truth, in the basement of my tavern, I happen to have a set of high-strength, magically engineered pulleys and mithril composite cables salvaged from a decommissioned warship in Pearl Harbor. That'll be more than enough to lift that wrecked ship. Besides, you're probably short on cash, so I can add a few more silver coins."
Upon hearing this, the players' eyes lit up instantly.
But the one-eyed old man changed his tone: "But I don't like your terms. In the shipwreck area, without a strong enough fist, you can't protect anything. I can give you the goods, but I have two conditions."
He held up two fingers: "First, I want 70% of the future profits from the dock. Second, my people will take over the defense and regulations of the camp."
The moment these words were spoken, the team chat exploded.
Roasted Whole Lamb: "Holy crap! This old man's trying to steal the whole fruit? Seventy percent? Why doesn't he just rob him?!"
He picked up the bucket and ran away: "Leaving the defense to him is tantamount to handing over the base we just secured to someone else!"
The little snail's smile vanished. He knew that these terms were impossible to negotiate; this was no longer venture capital, it was a merger.
The negotiations instantly reached a deadlock.
The four bodyguards leveled their crossbows with perfect coordination, their fingers on the triggers, creating a tense atmosphere.
A dozen meters away from them, in the shadow of the dilapidated wooden house.
Lynn stood there quietly, hands in his pockets, expressionless, as if he had everything under control.
But in reality, only he knew that his hands in his pockets were trembling and his heart was pounding wildly in his chest.
He's a "dog planner," that's true, but he's different from those players who can resurrect infinitely after dying. He only has one life!
Those four heavy military crossbows pointed at the camp were part of the game's storyline to the players, but to Lynn they were deadly weapons capable of instantly blowing someone's head off.
If things go wrong, he, the mastermind behind it all, will have to meet his end here today.
Damn it, I absolutely can't show weakness...
Lynn clenched his teeth, forcibly controlling his breathing. He frantically manipulated his facial muscles to maintain that cold, aloof expression that seemed to regard all living beings as ants.
In this dog-eat-dog world, the more dangerous the situation, the more arrogant and domineering you must be. If you show even the slightest bit of fear, that cunning old fox, One-Eyed, will immediately order you to be riddled with bullets.
Lynn slowly emerged from the shadows, his gaze passing directly over the four heavy crossbows and the little snail, fixing fixedly on the old one-eyed man's face.
The four bodyguards instinctively aimed their crossbows at the black-haired youth who had suddenly appeared.
Lynn didn't even glance at the crossbow bolts. He stopped two meters in front of the old one-eyed man and spoke in a completely indifferent tone:
"Your appetite is bigger than I imagined."
Lynn's voice wasn't loud, but it was exceptionally clear in the quiet camp: "But with your teeth, you can't swallow this place."
The old one-eyed man squinted his only remaining right eye.
He looked at the young man before him. There were no magical fluctuations, no weapons drawn, but the absolute composure that disregarded life and death, the indifference with which he looked at him as if he were a dead man, made the old one-eyed man feel a sense of unfathomable apprehension for the first time in his life.
"Young man, arrogance takes time and resources." The one-eyed old man's fingers tapped lightly on his gold watch. "What proof do you have that I can't swallow this?"
Lynn didn't waste any words.
He pulled a letter from his pocket; it was a keepsake given to him by the old village chief Lucas in Rainbow Village.
Lynn flicked his wrist, and the letter arced through the air. The old one-eyed man caught it and the envelope fell into his hand.
"Take a look at this, then decide what percentage you want," Lynn said calmly.
The old one-eyed man glanced at Lynn suspiciously, then looked down at the envelope.
When he saw the mark on the seal of the envelope, his right pupil suddenly contracted!
Old One-Eyed stepped forward abruptly, disregarding all decorum, and grabbed the letter.
His fingers traced the mark repeatedly, and his withered lips trembled slightly.
The four bodyguards exchanged bewildered glances; they had never seen their boss display such an almost out-of-control expression.
"Put it down!" the old one-eyed man suddenly growled without turning his head. "Put down the crossbow!"
The bodyguards were taken aback, immediately lowered their crossbows, and took a half step back.
The old one-eyed man gripped the letter tightly. When he looked at Lynn again, the hostility and greed in his eyes had completely vanished, replaced by a complex mix of emotion and awe.
"So it was that old monster... He's still alive."
Old One-Eyed's voice was much lower, as if he were lost in extremely distant memories, "Back then, he took his men over there and left me in this muddy mess to maintain balance... After all these years, he actually put his bet on a stranger."
Lynn stood there, maintaining his inscrutable, expressionless face, but inwardly he breathed a long sigh of relief.
You made the right bet...
Lucas's influence is indeed more effective than any magic in the lower echelons of Pearl Harbor.
The old one-eyed man carefully tucked the letter into the inside pocket of his coat, reverting to the demeanor of an underground emperor, but his tone had shifted to one of equal negotiation.
"Since it's his token, I have to give him face." The old one-eyed man looked at Lynn, held up three fingers, "I don't want 70%. I'll take 30% of the dock's profits, and you guys take 70%. You can handle the camp's defense yourselves; I won't interfere."
"I'll send someone over tonight to deliver the equipment. But let me make this clear: that she-wolf Bolton isn't someone to be trifled with. If you take my equipment and then die at the hands of her law enforcement team, this 30% cut will be nothing but an empty promise."
Lynn didn't answer immediately; his mind was racing.
Giving up 30% of the profits to Old One-Eyed is definitely a worthwhile deal.
Lynn's ambitions never stopped at just one shipwreck area.
His ultimate goal is to overthrow Bolton and take control of the real Pearl Harbor.
As players level up and the game progresses, they will inevitably venture into the Upper City of Pearl Harbor and even the entire Victoria Treasure Island.
He knew very well that for himself and the players, the shipwreck area was just a starting area and a springboard.
Once Lynn leads his men out to fight, there needs to be a local agent who can keep the situation under control and is familiar with the underlying rules to help him maintain his base in the rear.
Just like Lucas, the old village chief of Rainbow Village.
Old One-Eyed, this underground emperor who is deeply rooted in the lower classes and has a past relationship with Lucas, is simply the most perfect candidate to be the resident governor.
The 30% that was given away wasn't for crane materials, but for the absolute stability of the future shipwreck area.
"make a deal."
Lynn nodded slightly. "Thirty percent is yours. After Bolton falls, you can set the rules for the shipwreck area. But until then, don't get in my way."
Old One-Eye gave Lynn a deep look, and he understood the subtext in Lynn's words: This group's goal was to completely wipe out the Bolton Group!
Arrogant, yet exuding an extremely calm and resolute confidence.
"I'll wait and see how you manage to rip the sky apart."
The one-eyed old man didn't say another word. He turned around, waved his hand, and disappeared into the vast acid fog with his four bodyguards.
The player chat channel erupted in excitement as the old one-eyed man walked away.
Running away with the bucket: "Holy crap! Got the key item! Guys, heavy industry's about to take off!"
Xiaoyu: "To be honest, GM's move just now was really cool. The way he threw the envelope was so awesome."
The little snail, stroking its chin, watched Lynn's retreating figure thoughtfully, muttering to itself: "Seven-way split of profits, winning over local bullies—the NPC power network in this game is deeper than I imagined."
However, only Lynn himself knew that he had just narrowly escaped death.
He turned around, subtly putting his slightly trembling hands back into his pockets, and turned his gaze to the massive wreckage of the warship in the deep water.