Conquering OtherWorld Starts With a Game - Chapter 155: Salt Man

Exceptionally high risk of entering didn’t mean that this other world lacked developmental value.

Firstly, a completely new world that was starkly different from Earth held immeasurable scientific research value, whether in biological samples or social sciences.

Secondly, the OtherWorld gold laboriously plundered… uh, gathered by players, had revived many small processing factories in G Province that were on the brink of closure when circulated back on the Earth plane. Just the instant noodles consumed by the people of the OtherWorld had revitalized two rural agro-based processing enterprises in An City.

The current orders from OtherWorld was just a drop in the ocean in terms of the whole China market, but it was akin to timely aid for G Province, which lacked heavy industry and had little competitive edge in light industry domestically. For instance, the large quantity of eggs purchased by Yang through the meat processing factory had alleviated feed pressure on some poultry farmers in a township.

China, in its bid to solve the problem of domestic overcapacity, built friendly ties all over the world (and, of course, purchasing global resources, enhancing the country’s international voice, etc.). The government also repeatedly supported Chinese enterprises in exploring new markets. If “OtherWorld” could be turned into a dumping ground for products, the Chinese government would definitely be enthusiastic.

Even if the people of OtherWorld could not provide enough gold, the Chinese would still be more than willing to do business. Mineral ore, timber, special biological samples, gemstones, art, and much more would always be available.

As for the additional feature of “logging in” to access this world, it was inconsequential. Ultimately, if Yang sought support from the nation, he was obliged to ensure a steady supply of helmets.

In short… as long as Yang, the mastermind behind the scenes, didn’t cross the nation’s bottom line, it was necessary to maintain a good cooperative relationship for mutual benefit!

Zhao Zhenzhen guessed that Yang wasn’t content with just controlling Weisshem. This fellow had surely set his sights on Indahl as well.

Therefore, from Zhao Zhenzhen’s standpoint, she needed to adhere to the principle of non-interference in the internal affairs of other countries.

The natives of this world recognized Yang’s identity as a spellcaster. Charlie Rex, the lord of Weisshem, was Yang’s man. Yang’s support (pushing) for Rex, a native lord, to compete for sovereignty with whatever noble family of Indahl—this was undoubtedly internal politics of another country.

But then… she was currently the holder of a tool account in the game “OtherWorld,” which roughly made her a player. Was there anything wrong with a player completing a quest issued by a lord NPC?

Absolutely not!

An Earthling needed to have their Earthly moral standards, but a player had gamer moral standards, too!

While Saint Joseph Street in Indahl was brightly lit, darkness shrouded the poverty-riddled area outside the north city gate. Only a few households in this area, near half the size of Weisshem, had dim oil lamps lit.

Johan, a dweller here, and two of his close friends gathered in a shack to the west, talking quietly while occasionally peeping out through the gaps in the straw curtains.

“The ‘Salt Man’ distributed salt to households living near Johan’s area. Nobody knows if he will come today and where he will distribute the salt,” a freckled youngster said. “Who exactly is he? I’ve been delivering newspapers for so long and have never heard of such a person in Indahl.”

“It’s not in the papers? Even the men at the press office don’t know anything?” another young man, an apprentice at a workshop, asked.

“No,” replied the freckled boy, shaking his head. “I even asked some of those at the press office if they knew someone who liked giving away salt. They said they had never heard of such a thing.”

“My mom saw the ‘Salt Man,'” said Johan with a frown. “My mom said he seemed friendly, but I know that’s because he gave her salt.”

“He wouldn’t be a bad person, would he, Johan?” the freckled boy wondered.

“I don’t know. But Uncle Dak, whom I help every autumn, used to make a living in the city. You know, the kind of people that hang around the tavern area on Saint Joseph Street? Uncle Dak used to mingle there,” said Johan. “Uncle Dak always says that if someone is nice for no reason, they must want something from you.”

The freckled youth and the apprentice exchanged glances, both equally puzzled. “Would someone who can casually give away so much salt care about us, the poor living outside the city?”

Johan looked conflicted… This was indeed something he couldn’t quite comprehend.

The street gangs in the city would sometimes come to the area to pick tough and daring youngsters to join them. And if a family’s daughter was good-looking, some tavern owners would come over to try and recruit.

But apart from the tough ones who dared to join gangs and the young girls with good looks, other residents of the slum really had nothing that would attract the attention of outsiders…

“Eh?” The freckled youth suddenly pressed his face to the straw curtain serving as a window and whispered excitedly, “Look, quick! Someone’s coming!”

Johan hurriedly leaned in.

Under the moonlight, a tall cloaked man, carrying a large backpack, stepped into the densely packed slum.

Johan’s mouth hung open. He could hear his own gasp as well as his companions’.

This man was massive! He was at least as tall as the houses (shacks) here!

Even the “top dogs” of those Indahl street gangs weren’t even two-thirds the size of this man!

The towering man didn’t head in the direction where Johan and his friends were hiding. Instead, he turned into another narrow alley.

Starting from the first house at the mouth of the alley, he repeated the action of gently knocking on doors and stuffing something through the generally straw-curtained windows.

“He’s distributing salt, right? To the people living in that area?” the freckled youth exclaimed, both surprised and excited on witnessing this scene.

Johan and the apprentice didn’t speak, both staring wide-eyed as the man finished with a few households at the alley mouth and walked deeper, disappearing into the dense shanties.

“Sh-should we go have a look?” The workshop apprentice gulped nervously.

Johan’s curiosity was burning and he really wanted to… But he shook his head rationally at the thought of the man’s imposing figure.

“Best… to pretend we didn’t see anything,” Johan said reluctantly. “This person only comes at night, and it seems he doesn’t want to be seen. If we make him displeased and he stops giving out salt… we will be resented by everyone.”

“Right, right, I almost forgot about that. We better not disturb him,” added the freckled youth.

The workshop apprentice also realized this and nodded repeatedly.

Salt wasn’t a rare commodity in Indahl. The bottom shelves of every grocery store would have a row of five-pound salt jars at the bottom.

However, this sea salt that came from the Norsk Federation in the east wasn’t cheap. A jar cost two silver coins, equivalent to a month and a half’s income for a mid-tier restaurant server in the south district of the city.

Not to mention citizens in the poorer areas; ordinary city folk already had to carefully budget when buying salt or consider sharing a jar with neighbors and dividing it among themselves.

If standard for salt use among the city’s ordinary folk was “just enough to taste it,” then what the impoverished slum dwellers pursued was “having used salt”—whether the salt could be tasted wasn’t important; just the fact that salt was used mattered.

Getting a small bag of salt for free was a huge boon for the slum dwellers. It would be one thing if everyone didn’t have salt. But if some received it and others didn’t, with the latter missing out due to someone’s interference, then the interferer would be in serious trouble.

Even youngsters like Johan understood this, much less the older slum dwellers. No one dared venture out until “Salt Man” finished distributing to every household in that alley and left.

But… once the “Salt Man” was gone, many people came out of their shacks, eagerly asking if everyone in the alley received salt…

While Zhao Zhenzhen was busy crafting a heroic image for her exorcist persona “Von Alphonse” in the city, something was quietly unfolding in Weisshem.

Once night fell, the two groups hiding on Martin Street made their move—one heading toward the town hall, the other toward the resettlement shelter on the town’s main street, which served as a dormitory for the town hall clerks.

Rex hoped to encourage those previously suffering young men and women to participate in ordinary societal work, and he naturally didn’t isolate Shirley, Sibyl, and others that had emerged from the past shadows from their companions.

These men and women who had become official clerks still lived with their former companions in the two resettlement shelters. Their transformation, from body, mind, to soul, and their increasingly composed and confident smiles, served as the best role models for others.

Walton, who had once met “Charlie Rex,” wasn’t suited for the mission to infiltrate the town hall. Leading his elite scouts, he followed a pre-scouted route to the outside of the resettlement shelter at night.

As Walton peeked out from the shadow of a newly constructed building and surveyed the resettlement shelter’s main entrance, he saw several security squad members cursing and dragging a muddy-looking man out from the alley beside the compound wall, tossing him onto the main street and beating him up.

“Do you know where you are, huh? Coming here looking for women? Are you tired of living?!”

“It’s scum like you that causes us having to do night duty every night! Every single night!”

Walton: “??”

Walton slunk back into the shadows, intently observing the surroundings.

He then realized that the resettlement shelter, which didn’t seem at all guarded during the day with only a few frail men and women entering, turned into a fortress at night. Groups of two to three security squad personnel were at the main entrance and every wall!

Walton: “…”

He suddenly recalled something he noticed during the day. The clerks he had seen were all quite attractive.

Weisshem locals had also never avoided talking about the fact that the town hall’s clerks were all former red-light district workers.

After the red-light district was closed, the workers congregated in one place. At night, some lowly men, unable to control their primal urges, would likely cause trouble. It wasn’t just here; in any poorly guarded part of a big city, it wasn’t uncommon for places inhabited by women to be targeted by men at night.

With the important clerks all living here, it made sense for Rex to prioritize their safety. The security squad focusing its defense on this area at night was a logical move…

Walton wanted to rush out and kick the man currently being beaten up by the security squad personnel—their meticulously planned operation had been foiled by such a ridiculous reason!

In a residential building a few dozen meters behind the fuming Walton…

“Razor” Hal Maxwell, Ranger Tuttle Joe, and Treasure Master Finley, three former bandits with far more experience in nocturnal stealth, crouched silently on the roof like predatory wildcats.

“These fools are actually stumped by a bunch of militiamen. Absolutely trash!” Hal said with disdain. “They could just pay a few drunks to start a fight and divert the militia’s attention. Idiots!”