I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 481 Catching the Strong Man

A pair of large hands pushed him from behind, forcing him to move forward. At the same time, the carriage door closed behind him with a dull metallic clang, isolating him from the noise of the platform.

In an instant, the world seemed to shrink, leaving only this mobile space filled with leather, coal ash, and a faint smell of tobacco.

Wearing a linen robe, Bushangbuwan stood there, stunned. The players around him were shouting, protesting, and cursing.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Is there no law? Is there no justice? You're kidnapping me..."

"Damn it, I'm not playing this crappy game anymore, fuck you..."

"Exactly, I'm quitting the game! I'm quitting the game!!!"

After a while, he finally snapped out of his daze, took a deep breath of the stale air, and looked up at the crowded carriage.

There were no seats at all. All the people who had been crammed in like him were packed together like sardines, their faces showing bewilderment, anger, or despair.

He immediately realized that standing would only result in him being squeezed into a meat pie, and his eyes quickly locked onto a relatively less crowded corner at the connection between the carriages.

Unhappy and unwilling to play, I struggled to push through the crowd, moved over there, and barely managed to grab a spot where I could sit down with my legs curled up against the cold car wall.

Once my body was temporarily settled, my chaotic thoughts finally had a chance to be sorted out.

Leaning against the slightly vibrating car wall, he began to try to trace the origin of all of this.

His memories were fragmented. In his mind, he was just walking on the perpetually noisy streets of the capital, calculating which shop he could work odd jobs at to earn more copper coins so he could afford to learn new skills.

Then, the shadow fell.

Several uniformed player police officers stopped him, their expressions cold and hard, their eyes showing no empathy for fellow players, only indifferent business acumen.

Before he could even ask "What's the matter?", the other person had already roughly grabbed his shoulder and pushed him toward the station like a prisoner being escorted.

He tried to argue and defend himself, but the other party just coldly threw a sentence at him.

"You know what you've done."

Then, when he came to his senses again after being annoyed and not playing anymore, he was right there.

"what's going on?"

I'm so unhappy that I won't play, and I can't figure it out.

Just as Bushuang Buwan was trying to piece together the truth from his chaotic memories, a loudspeaker covered with a metal mesh on the corner of the carriage ceiling suddenly crackled and emitted a sharp electrical noise, instantly drowning out all the noise and the roar of the wheels.

All the shouting and cursing stopped abruptly. Everyone was drawn by the sudden sound and instinctively looked up.

Immediately afterwards, a cold, emotionless male voice came through the loudspeaker. The voice was as flat as reciting a eulogy, devoid of any human emotion, as if it were just a machine reading out a predetermined program.

"To all crew members, in accordance with the Kingdom's Emergency Law and the Criminals' Redemption Regulations, you have been registered with the Kingdom's Ministry of Justice."

"Because you committed crimes of varying degrees within the kingdom's territory, you have been sentenced, through a expedited adjudication procedure, to atone for your sins by performing labor service."

The carriage was deathly silent, save for the indifferent voice and the unchanging clanging of the wheels.

"You are now known as Atonement Soldiers, belonging to the First Vanguard of the Bagnia Foreign Mercenary Legion. You have only one goal: to accept employment from the Macon Alliance, cross the storm belt, reach Casarina Island, and fight for the kingdom. Your enemy is the Serpent People."

Each of you will receive a monthly salary of thirty silver dollars, which can be collected from the logistics department of the military camp. In addition, you can earn redemption points by killing enemies, completing tactical missions, and acquiring strategic materials.

Once you have accumulated enough Atonement Points, you can atone for your sins, automatically shed your status as a convict soldier, and your monthly salary will increase from thirty silver dollars to fifty silver dollars. At the same time, you will also gain the freedom to choose whether to retire and return to Bagnia, or continue fighting as Bagnia mercenary soldiers.

The amount of atonement points required by each person varies depending on the sins committed; the starting point is one hundred points, and the maximum is one thousand points.

The voice paused slightly here, as if to allow the words that followed to pierce everyone's heart even more.

"Conversely, if you fail to accumulate enough redemption points during your service... you will remain a convicted soldier indefinitely, and even if you die in battle, there will be no exemption or pardon."

Cherish your chance at redemption, fight hard for the kingdom, and for your own anticipated freedom.

The announcement is complete.

With a "sizzle," the static disappeared, and the loudspeaker returned to silence.

That cold, hopeless announcement, like a block of ice, crashed into the carriage, causing the players inside to roar and curse in anger.

He didn't curse or complain; he simply brought up his character panel. Then, in the status bar, where there had been a blank space, there was a scarlet mark, as if written in blood... [Sinner], followed by a glaring number [Redemption Points: 0/100].

At the very bottom of the status description, there is an even smaller, yet more unsettling, line of gray text.

[Warning: Attempting to desert or disobey orders while your redemption points are insufficient will be considered a serious crime, and the system will immediately grant battlefield law enforcement units "execution authority."]

Most of the players who were forcibly sent here were furious. Some even logged off right there and lay on the ground to show their attitude... They wanted to delete their accounts and quit the game.

Some were angry, while others were indifferent, laughing and joking as they chatted about random topics. Some thought the game designers had gone mad to do something like this.

Some people found it very interesting, believing it to be part of the beginner tutorial and a privilege reserved for their generation of players.

He was still lost in thought, trying to recall what he had done that led to his exile to the frontier.

What's the deal with the snake people? If you're not happy, you won't know. He'd seen some Holy Expedition players fight against snake people, and to be honest, the former really did look pretty ugly.

After thinking about it for a long time, and only when he was annoyed and didn't want to play did he remember something... It seems that when he first entered the game, after leaving the resurrection point hall whose name he didn't know, he had just walked out of the door and onto the street when he saw a woman who was very much to his liking.

The woman was very beautiful, and her large breasts were particularly eye-catching.

Since he had just entered the game, it would be a bit presumptuous of him not to play if he wasn't happy with it, so he walked over, naturally reached out and grabbed a handful, and then praised it.

"So big and perky, and so bouncy, so incredibly..."

"Snapped!"

He couldn't finish his sentence, "I'm not happy, I won't play," because he was slapped and then fled in a sorry state amidst the screams of a woman.

That's the end of my reminiscence. If you're still annoyed, just slap your forehead.

Well, it turns out I deserved to be caught here.

……

The train roared relentlessly forward, swaying and jolting on the tracks for two whole days and nights.

Time loses its meaning amidst the crowds, the filth, and the perpetual clanging of wheels.

As the dim afternoon sunlight streamed through the dusty windows, illuminating the numb and weary faces, the train finally let out a long, relieved whistle, followed by an even more intense and piercing metallic scraping sound, and its speed gradually decreased.

"Bang!"

Finally, after a heavy impact, the train came to a complete stop.

The inertia caused all the players crammed together to sway and fall like dominoes, eliciting a chorus of low complaints and groans. The carriage door was suddenly pulled open from the outside, and a rush of damp, salty, and unfamiliar air instantly flooded in, diluting the nauseating stench inside. The sunlight outside was somewhat dazzling, making people involuntarily close their eyes.

"Omdul has arrived! All criminal soldiers, disembark immediately and assemble!"

A harsh roar came from outside the car, carrying an unquestionable tone of command.

The crowd began to move, numbly inching towards the door.

Unhappy and unwilling to play, he tried to stand up, but suddenly gasped for breath.

His legs felt like they no longer belonged to him. The prolonged curling and shaking had completely numbed them, and his muscles were as stiff as two stones, or as if a million needles were piercing them. They were both sore and numb, and he could hardly support his body.

He had to lean against the cold car wall, grimacing as he slowly moved. After a while, the sharp numbness gradually subsided, replaced by a feeling of weakness and powerlessness, as if he were walking on cotton, and his knees were trembling slightly uncontrollably.

He practically dragged his two legs, which wouldn't obey him, and staggered along at the back of the crowd, slowly getting off the car.

The light on the platform made him squint. Before he could adjust, he saw several players in crisp military uniforms... Their armbands had a ferocious beast head pattern, representing the law enforcement and military police status of the Bagnian mercenaries. They were standing coldly in the open space in front of him.

"Hurry up! What are you dawdling for? Everyone who got off the bus, gather here and line up!"

A military police player, who appeared to be a squad leader, shouted sternly, his eyes sweeping over the group of dejected recruits, his arrogance undisguised.

Meanwhile, another group of military police roughly pushed through the crowd getting off the train and rushed into the carriage.

Soon, they came out in pairs, carrying the "player corpses" that hadn't moved since they logged off.

The characters' bodies hung limply, their heads and limbs swaying weakly, clearly indicating they were offline.

These players are people who have deleted their accounts and stopped playing. If they hadn't deleted their accounts, even if they weren't online, they would automatically stand up in the AFK settings and follow the crowd out, instead of continuing to lie in the stuffy, hot, and smelly carriage.

The military police, like they were moving cargo, unceremoniously threw these "account deleters" onto a black van that was waiting nearby, without any markings. There were already seven or eight such bodies piled up behind the van, looking eerie and desolate.

A man being carried as a "corpse," who never complained or played around with the sidelines, had a few copper coins fall out of his pocket during the jolting. They clattered and rolled on the ground, but the military police didn't even glance at them, continuing their mechanical carrying work.

This scene angered some of the players who had just gotten off the bus, and their sense of shared grievances led some of them to shout.

"Damn it, what right do you have to touch him!"

The burly convict player who was closest to the player was the first to erupt. He saw the rolling copper coins and the bodies of other players being treated like trash. The anger that had been building up for two days instantly overwhelmed his reason.

He roared and punched a military police player who was carrying the "corpse" past in the face.

The military policeman was clearly experienced and reacted very quickly.

He abruptly turned his head, the fist grazing his cheekbone, and then, almost without hesitation, released the corpse he was carrying and simultaneously delivered a fierce, short hook punch to the burly criminal soldier's abdomen.

"Ugh!"

The soldier, who appeared strong but was actually physically weak due to the influence of kerosene, was caught off guard. His eyes bulged out, and the acid in his stomach rushed to his throat. He curled up and knelt on the ground like a boiled shrimp, gagging painfully.

This swift and decisive strike, instead of frightening others, acted like the fuse that lit a powder keg.

"They're hitting people! These idiots are hitting people!"

"Damn it, let's fight them!"

"They're all players, why are they beating people up like this? Let's take them down!"

More roars erupted from the crowd. At first, only a few hot-blooded criminals rushed forward, but soon, like a tidal wave, dozens, even hundreds of criminal players driven by anger and despair roared and surged towards the mere dozen or so military police on the platform.

The area is closed.

The military police squad leader's expression changed, and he quickly blew the sharp alarm whistle.

Amidst the sharp whistle, more military police players emerged from all parts of the platform and plunged into the battle.

They didn't use the weapons at their waists, but their punches and kicks were merciless.

The fight quickly devolved into a chaotic and brutal hand-to-hand brawl.

The criminal soldiers had an overwhelming numerical advantage, like a swarm of ants, trying to overwhelm the enemy with sheer numbers. They punched and kicked without any strategy, relying entirely on brute force and anger, often with three to five people surrounding a single military policeman and beating him haphazardly.

However, the advantage of the military police player is more obvious.

They have fought many battles, have a high reputation, are generally strong, and have plenty of energy.

Based on their combat experience, the three military police players formed a simple battle formation back to back, covering each other, throwing swift and powerful punches and vicious kicks, often rendering a criminal soldier temporarily incapacitated with a single blow.

"boom!"

A military policeman dodged a swung punch, then grabbed the soldier's arm and delivered a powerful over-the-shoulder throw, slamming the convict into the hard ground with a dull thud.

"Crack!"

To his left, another military policeman used his arm to parry the kicking leg, and with his other hand, he gripped the side of the other man's knee with a claw and twisted it hard. With a painful scream, the convict fell to the ground clutching his twisted leg and howling in agony.

Unhappy and swept along by the crowd, he instinctively swung his fist and charged forward, but stopped just as he got close to the battlefield.

He stared in astonishment at the scene before him: roars, screams, the dull thud of fists hitting flesh, the horrifying sound of bones dislocating, splattered blood from the nose, knocked-out teeth… The air was quickly filled with the smells of sweat, blood, and violence.

Not happy, I saw a convicted soldier being tackled to the ground by a military policeman, with fists raining down on him. But the convicted soldier curled up to protect his vitals, and soon his comrades rushed over to help, roughly pulling the military policeman away.

He also saw the criminal soldiers briefly succeed. The military policeman who was pulled away was choked from behind, his face turning red, but he was quickly rescued by other military policemen who ran over and delivered a precise chop to the side of the attacker's neck.

He didn't join the fight because he was unhappy; he just watched from the sidelines. As he watched, he realized that the two sides were not even in the same league.

The numerical advantage of the criminal soldiers quickly crumbled in the face of the military police's formidable individual strength, tacit cooperation, and ruthless efficiency.

The vast majority of those who fell on the platform were convicted soldiers wearing burlap robes, writhing and groaning in agony on the ground.

Although some of the military police were injured, with bruises and even blood trickling from their mouths, they stood firm like rocks and continued to effectively incapacitate more criminals.

As he watched, he saw an opportunity and rushed over, kicking a military policeman in the back. This caused the policeman, who was trying to wrestle the enemy, to stumble, allowing his companion to break free.

However, the others escaped. He was unhappy because he was too slow, and an enraged military policeman grabbed him from behind, choked him until he passed out.

In less than ten minutes, the riot was completely suppressed.

The platform was littered with players lying haphazardly, groaning in pain. Those still standing were mostly bruised and battered. They cursed and swore, wanting to continue fighting, but their stamina was about to drop to zero, and the intense pain made it impossible for them to keep going. They could only keep up the act.

The military police regrouped, their breathing a little rapid and their uniforms somewhat disheveled, but their eyes were nonchalant, and they were laughing and joking.

They were in pain too, but it was clear who won and who lost.

The squad leader, a military policeman, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth.

"You idiots, don't blame me for beating you up. Who told you to commit crimes... Don't worry, you'll soon be heading to the front lines to have a good fight with the snake people."

(End of this chapter)