Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
At the table, Zheng Yifan stared at the screen of his computer, his heartbeat quickening.
All the stocks automatically purchased through the God Index were on a roll, with red lines poised to touch the upper limit of gains at any moment.
In the past, he often fantasized about what he would do if he became wealthy.
Buy a luxury car? Purchase a villa? Gather a dozen young models for an extravagant party? Perhaps even indulge in the life of a Rich Tycoon, supporting starlets.
But now that he was truly touching this world that had once been merely a fantasy, he realized that everything he had imagined would become simple once he possessed such wealth, even attainable.
Yet at this moment, he felt a weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders, and a sense of crisis lurking nearby, ready to pounce like a Wolf.
Currently, Zheng Yifan's money was not substantial; in the financial market, he couldn't even make a ripple. But what about in the future? When he had amassed considerable wealth without adequate protection?
At that time, danger would feel no safer than facing Zombies in an apocalyptic world.
Although his funds were limited now, time had already proven the power of the God Index—a force capable of influencing the world.
If revealed, it could trigger a stock market crash. If allowed to develop infinitely, the God Index would inevitably reach a level where it could control the market.
The stock market was unpredictable, with fluctuations that left many watching in despair as indices plummeted, their hearts mirroring the downward trends as they contemplated leaving this world forever.
Over the past two weeks, Zheng Yifan had spent his time either staring at the monitor watching his money fluctuate or preparing supplies to survive in an apocalyptic scenario.
800,000.
More than double the profit flowed into Zheng Yifan's account. This was just within two weeks. Of course, such high returns were not common; it was purely coincidental—three new stocks launched with insane momentum that filled Zheng Yifan's pockets. Then came a sharp decline that left many in shock.
Every figure was stained with blood, yet it brought Zheng Yifan astonishment and hope!
Although this money came from impoverished investors at the bottom of society, if he didn't take it, other financial sharks would snatch it up just as easily.
In that case, it was better to keep it in his hands; at least he could save some lives during the apocalypse and offer others a glimmer of hope for survival.
The apocalypse was like a vast money pit; no matter how much you poured in, it was like dumping a bucket of water into the Pacific Ocean—creating barely a ripple.
Zheng Yifan left 10,000 in his stock account and withdrew 600,000 to invest in a trading company. The remaining 700,000 would be used to purchase supplies needed for survival; his total investment reached 1 million. Zheng Yifan held 51% of the shares but had long declared himself merely an absentee owner. The hefty Li Jun took 0% shares while agreeing to handle all official matters. Zhao Kai and Tang Hao invested their labor; Zhao Kai took 14% primarily for business development and market research while Tang Hao held 15%, temporarily acting as general manager overseeing operations.
Everyone had no objections. Now, they were almost complete with all their licenses, just missing the import and export business qualification certificate.
Li Jun had already guaranteed that as long as their company’s business opened with a good start, it would be sorted out within a week.
Currently, several brothers had begun searching throughout Huaxia Nation for Zheng Yifan's long list of hundreds of products, selecting the most cost-effective suppliers among them.
"Finally, we are about to complete the first step of our plan."
Looking at the long order in front of him, Zheng Yifan smiled, genuinely happy.
"Salt, one ton. Already delivered to the end of the world. Stored in the newly rented warehouse."
"Sugar, one ton, stored in the new warehouse."
"Braised Pork Canned Food, unbranded workshop products, twenty boxes, four cans per box. Stored in a corner of the basement." This item was rare and even more precious than salt and sugar. Behind each order was a subsequent order that was a hundred times larger than the first batch. The initial orders were merely samples.
All samples had arrived and were currently being processed again. After all, some items were ordered from reputable manufacturers and were all crafted goods, completely outside the scope of regulated tools. What he needed to do now was to turn these crafted goods into weapons—tools to deal with zombies and thugs who coveted his wealth. As for the weapons produced by those factories, Zheng Yifan could only chuckle; their quality was not very reliable.
The processing was straightforward; he had hired people to transport everything to a small workshop of only fifty or sixty square meters. A few grinding machines were all that was needed to get it done.
The total cost for these items was two hundred thousand dollars upfront. In this apocalyptic world, Zheng Yifan took time to rent a new warehouse, which only occupied a corner. The surrounding warehouses were all reserve warehouses for various teams. Each warehouse was a thousand square meters and served as the core for major teams, all protected by the Howling Wind Leader; no one dared to reach into this area.
This was also key to the survival of Howling Wind Base. The supplies piled up here supported the lives of those in Gathering Place and were then consolidated by Howling Wind Leader through various channels into his own power.
Naturally, the price of the warehouse was quite expensive—one thousand Zombie Crystal s per month. It was pricey enough that only teams with over a thousand members could afford such warehouses.
However, to be honest, Zheng Yifan did not dare to store particularly expensive items in the warehouse. Without strong power backing him up, wealth became a liability; those most brutal individuals in this apocalypse would use bloody methods to seize your riches.
"Ding dong." The doorbell rang. Arriving late were workers whom Zheng Yifan had hired from the Laborer market; they were efficient and understood that time equated to money.
"Sir, your goods." Three porters stood at the door, drenched in sweat as they placed the cargo down, their faces glistening with perspiration and a hint of excitement. They didn’t care what was inside; in today’s society, having milk meant having support—especially from such a generous rich tycoon.
Indeed, few people would be willing to pay such high transportation fees; just these three boxes weighed over a hundred pounds and nearly cost a thousand dollars in shipping fees. Their only request was to keep things discreet.
The packages weren’t large but contained metal items that required some effort to handle. They had seen what was being loaded—crafted goods—which could now fall under regulated tools but still didn’t matter; if civilians didn’t report it, officials wouldn’t pursue it. As long as they didn’t flaunt it outside police stations, no one would bother them.
Afterward, one delivery after another from porters continued arriving, each item signaling Zheng Yifan's determination for self-preservation.
The entire set of pure steel Plate Armor and pure steel Tower Shield, along with the European Knight's Sword, were purchased from a workshop under the guise of bar decorations. They were crafted according to medieval standards, with even more refined materials. For this, Zheng Yifan paid an additional hundred thousand in material costs.
To deal with Zombies, a lighter weapon like the Knight's Sword is sufficient. Striking a Zombie does not take away their life; even if you sever their limbs, they will continue to advance. Even with widespread use of arrows, unless one is a Sharpshooter capable of hitting the eye from a hundred paces, they remain ineffective against them.
The best options are the spear or the Machete. A thrust to the head creates a hole that destroys brain tissue, rendering the Zombie incapable of movement. With a Machete, simply chopping off the head will leave it twitching.
Currently, the Porter delivering the armor and weapons is on-site.
Due to the large quantity of items, Zheng Yifan hired several groups of people to deliver them in batches. By evening, fifty pairs of custom military boots had arrived. This completed everything.
Looking at the goods before him, Zheng Yifan was sweating profusely but still smiled happily; these were the foundation for his survival in this apocalyptic world.
It wasn't food, canned goods, salt, or sugar; it was tangible power.
With a wave of his left hand, that familiar Blue Aura appeared in mid-air once again. This time, he decided to solidify his strength in the Apocalyptic World. As for money in reality?
Who cares? Let it be wherever it is. With one million five hundred thousand as capital, he could easily make a fortune in the Stock Market.
Comment 0 Comment Count