Let MapleStory experience the Fourth Calamity

Chapter 132 Grain Storage

Players who had paid their stall fees spread out tattered burlap in the square, and the abandoned city's free market officially opened.

But the situation was different from what everyone expected.

Looking around, more than 90% of the stalls were piled with grains and cabbage.

Everyone thought they were clever, fantasizing that they could use the vegetables they held as hard currency to sell at a high price for armor and ironware. But after leaving the area untouched for half a year, not a single person even inquired about the price.

The entire market was full of sellers, but no buyers. As temperatures continued to drop, trouble ensued.

The first to notice something was wrong was Big Goose. He squatted in front of a casual player's stall and reached out to pinch the top leaf of the vegetable.

The once sturdy leaves have begun to soften and wilt at the edges.

"This thing can't be stored away."

The goose patted the dirt off its hands. "Cold air will damage the cell walls of plants. Without greenhouses and temperature-controlled cellars, this pile of vegetables would all freeze into mush by nightfall."

After this statement spread, the atmosphere in the market changed, and anxiety and unease began to spread among the crowd.

Da Niu was rather lazy and didn't believe in superstitions. He took out a tattered military blanket he had picked up from his backpack and wrapped it tightly around a bundle of cabbages.

"Hey, just keep it warm, right? When the caravans from Pearl Harbor come, we'll just sell it to them at a high price."

"It's no use."

The goose interrupted his reverie, "Plants can still breathe. If you cover them with a blanket, the moisture can't escape, and they'll rot even faster. They'll start to stink in four hours at most."

Several major hoarders immediately panicked. Little Snail looked at the truck full of goods, his brow furrowed, his brain racing to find a way out of the predicament.

Make it into pickles!

A brilliant idea suddenly flashed in the goose's mind, and it came up with a feasible solution.

"Chinese cabbage is dehydrated and salted, then fermented with lactic acid bacteria. As long as it is made into sauerkraut or pickled vegetables, its shelf life can be extended by several months, which is a common practice in northern China."

This suggestion was like a lifeline, quickly igniting the motivation of the surrounding players.

The little snail demonstrated exceptional execution skills, decisively allocating all the logistics team's funds.

"Buying coarse salt! Buying wooden barrels and clean tin boxes! Priced at 20% above market value, immediate transaction!"

A brief surge in trading immediately swept through the market. Previously unsold, dilapidated containers and the scattered salt collected from the wild were quickly snapped up at high prices.

A large group of players drew their iron swords and daggers, using them as kitchen knives to chop vegetables on the spot.

Large amounts of vegetable leaves were thrown into a hastily put-together bucket, layered with cabbage and salt, and some people even jumped in to stomp on them to dehydrate them.

Everything seemed to be on track, and the players appeared to have used common sense to overcome the game mechanics.

However, just twenty minutes later, the goose's expression changed.

He reached his hand into the pickling bucket, but instead of feeling the tender, watery leaves, he touched a cold, hard lump.

"Stop! Stop everything!" the goose shouted, its voice filled with obvious frustration.

The little snail stopped wielding its dagger: "What's wrong? Is the salt ratio wrong?"

"It's temperature."

The goose held up a leaf of vegetable covered in frost and said, "Damn, this game is so realistic."

Lactic acid bacteria fermentation requires a suitable temperature, but the temperature in this abandoned city is now close to freezing, making it impossible for the fermentation process to begin. We've not only failed to make sauerkraut, but we've also exacerbated the imbalance of cellular osmotic pressure.

"Stop rambling on and on, can't you speak like a human being?"

"The salt forces the water out of the cabbage, and when it gets cold, it freezes directly, ruining it completely."

An uproar erupted in the crowd.

Da Niu plopped down on the ground, looking at the bits of vegetable leaves frozen into salty ice crystals in the bucket, feeling like crying but having no tears left.

They not only wasted their time, but also lost a lot of money buying salt and wooden barrels.

The player suffered a crushing defeat.

The self-rescue plan failed, and real despair began to spread in the market.

Lynn had already seen through the abnormal data in the system backend and had a clear understanding of this farce in the market.

"My lord, a large number of your subordinates have abandoned their mission and are now selling off crops that should have been handed over to the state in the free market."

"

Looking at the inventory report in his hand, Moss suggested, "These are official properties. Should we send guards to forcibly confiscate them?"

"Don't worry about it."

Lynn looked at the increasingly heavy snow outside the window, remaining very calm. "Sending troops to rob them will only escalate the conflict. These people think they can get rich by pocketing the mission items and exploiting a bug, but they have forgotten the most fatal point."

They simply lacked the temperature-controlled storage technology to cope with extreme climates, and they were powerless against the physical laws of this wasteland.

"Dad—?"

"It's a bug, don't worry about it, that's not the point."

Lynn turned around and handed Moss a new acquisition price list.

"Let them do whatever they want. I want these embezzling public funds hoarders to experience firsthand what it means to have something rotten in their hands and worthless."

"Let the natural laws of winter teach them this cruel lesson, and let them be driven to desperation before we go out and clean up the mess."

After a while, I calculated that the cooking time should be about right.

Just when everyone was at a loss, Lynn walked over from the direction of the sewer entrance.

As the population and functions of the southern district of the ruined capital expanded, Lynn made a clear physical separation between his private living room and office area.

The abandoned police station building had already been cleared out and was now officially marked with the sign "Abandoned City Command Center".

The solid space on the basement floor of the police station, originally used to detain serious criminals, was transformed into an official temperature-controlled warehouse.

He stopped at the edge of the market and announced the establishment of an "official bulk agricultural product recycling center".

Unified purchase price: 10 Maple Leaf Coins per standard vehicle.

The price was slightly lower than the futures price offered by Little Snail last night, but Lynn offered a condition that no one could refuse at this stage.

Unlimited purchases, with immediate settlement.

Meanwhile, in order to move these tons of supplies into the basement of the police station building, Lynn casually issued a temporary moving task.

For every sack of agricultural products carried into the underground warehouse, two maple leaf coins were awarded.

The players who were idle in the square immediately gathered around, vying to take on this official task of moving bricks.

The little snail stood beside several fully loaded carts, quickly calculating the costs in its mind.

Building temperature-controlled warehouses is simply not feasible right now. If vegetables are left in your hands, they'll ultimately become worthless.

The optimal solution is to quickly monetize the funds and use them to build a guild that can snowball its success.

He decisively waved his hand: "Give it all to the authorities."

With the big shots taking the lead, the remaining casual participants no longer hesitated.

Long queues formed at the edge of the market as players willingly sold off all the fruits of their labor, which they had painstakingly collected in the middle of the night.

Players who had accepted the transport mission carried heavy sacks and trudged into the police station building.

The interior of the building still retains the ruggedness of the old era. As you descend the rusty iron staircase, the air is filled with the musty smell of years and a chill.

The second basement level was originally a detention area for serious offenders, with rows of thick iron bars dividing the space into individual cells.

The walls here are more than half a meter thick, completely isolating the surface from drastic temperature changes, forming a natural constant-temperature shelter.

Night Cat, acting as Lynn's bodyguard, leaned against the iron gate with his arms crossed, coldly watching the group of tireless players.

The players didn't mind the environment at all. They clumsily sorted and stacked the agricultural products on the stone beds that had once imprisoned prisoners, filling one cell and locking it immediately before moving on to the next.

"This design is brilliant. Using prison cells as partitioned warehouses saves on shelving."

"Move it quickly! I was terrified! I really thought my money was going to go down the drain!"

Spurred by Maple Leaf Coins, the prison cells have been transformed into bustling assembly lines.

In the underground warehouse deep inside the police station building, Lynn checked the account data.

It's a strange feeling that a player is playing an MMORPG but is actually playing a strategy game.

The meager profits earned by players from paying stall fees and doing manual labor will quickly flow back into his account for various needs such as repairing equipment.

Relying on warehousing barriers and supply and demand patterns, the Abandoned Capital Command completed an absolute monopoly on the first round of agricultural output in Archer Village without bloodshed, establishing the only material hegemony within the camp.

Of course, there will always be a small group of people who think they can see through the market.

Some players still have about 20% of their stock on hand, intending to keep it as seeds or wait for prices to rebound in a few days before selling it at a higher price.

In several fields in Archer Village, the best-growing seedlings were also left behind.

However, they underestimated the harshness of the environment.

As night fell, a cold front swept across the entire Treasure Island.

In the dead of night, players who hadn't lit a fire to keep warm were woken up by the cold.