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墨書 Inktalez
The news of the upcoming opening of Hope Mall spread quickly, prompting even the First Division to send people for multiple investigations.
Regarding the Hope Gathering Place, Zheng Yifan revealed nothing. With Li Ning's formidable strength backing it, anyone who thought they could take advantage here had better weigh their own worth.
All four hundred seventy-two workers were in place, each assigned to a specific area. Outside the Gathering Place, tricycles were constantly loading and unloading renovation materials, all of which were stored in a dozen containers that had suddenly appeared nearby. These containers were filled with supplies, guarded by several soldiers. Their simple defensive formation deterred many from trying to take advantage, and they soon gave up.
Each soldier wielded a repeating crossbow, equipped with automatic loading magazines. The bolts they fired were nearly as lethal as those from a submachine gun.
Additionally, two soldiers had set up flame-throwing towers atop the containers, their formidable combat power instilling fear in onlookers.
In fact, such defenses had gradually begun to appear on the Rui Guan City Wall. The newly constructed wall was fortified with numerous significant weapons of mass destruction.
A multitude of flame-throwing towers could instantly turn the area beneath the wall into an inferno. The oil depot was surrounded by a thick five-meter wall within the Gathering Place, storing a vast amount of fuel. The wall was dotted with jet ports and even blood spray outlets.
This place was a meat grinder on the battlefield, capable of endlessly devouring the lives of zombies. It was also a death zone prepared specifically for them.
At this moment!
In Han Sui City Gathering Place, discussions revolved around Hope Mall—the audacious marketplace established by a trading convoy that managed to complete its first-floor renovations in just three hours. The opulent decor and massive counters exuded an apocalyptic style.
Heavy and solid. In the center of the first-floor hall, an open space was cleared for two ballistae positioned at the entrance, ready for action at any moment. Hundreds of repeating crossbows were mounted on the walls; pressing a switch would unleash bolts from their magazines in an instant.
The immense destructive power deterred everyone. Each counter resembled a bank window but featured a recessed delivery slot below.
The glass was bulletproof glass purchased by Zheng Yifan from the real world, and the outer doors were modern security doors.
Zheng Yifan consulted with an internationally renowned security group for the entire structure and purchased a design plan along with most of the building materials.
Of course, many aspects were not perfect; after all, superpowered individuals existed in this apocalypse. The walls were reinforced with only five-centimeter-thick steel plates, which powerful superpowered individuals could potentially breach. Superpowers varied widely; no one could predict what abilities might emerge—one could only do their best and leave the rest to fate.
Such strong defensive capabilities could only protect against gentlemen but not against those with ill intentions; at least it would make ordinary people feel overwhelmed.
The expansion project for the Underground Warehouse had begun. The original space was far too small, only a few hundred square meters, and now it needed to be significantly enlarged.
Everything was gradually falling into place.
On the morning of the third day, the dawn light spilled across the sky as crowds began to emerge. Trucks were bustling along the roads, and nearly a hundred soldiers from the First Division patrolled Fortune God Street. The unnamed street beside it had been renamed Hope Avenue. The road surface had been leveled by workers hired by Zheng Yifan, making it cleaner and more aesthetically pleasing.
Currently, there were over a hundred trucks on Hope Avenue, while on Fortune God Street, the paupers from the Slum were lining up outside their homes, waiting to make purchases.
Today marked the grand opening of Hope Mall, which promised special gifts, an enticing lottery event, and a four-hour promotion with 20% off throughout the entire venue, along with promotional activities for other floors yet to open.
All of this drove the paupers in the Gathering Place into a frenzy.
The lottery event was shrouded in mystery; no one knew what the prizes were. From a distance, one could see a large plastic board level with the roof behind the stronghold. The board displayed ten types of rewards, printed with scratch-off silver ink.
There was only one first prize, two second prizes, and four third prizes. The number of prizes increased sequentially, totaling ten items.
Not everyone would win a prize, but Zheng Yifan believed that if even one person won, it would spark a shopping frenzy.
“Hey! Can you see what’s written on that sign ahead? I’m nearsighted and can’t make it out at all. Did their boss back out? Are they no longer buying Zombie Crystal s and those Garbage Evolution Fruits?” In the middle of the line in the Slum stood a middle-aged man with a slight limp, his face tense as he looked at the young boy in front of him.
The boy was around fourteen or fifteen years old, with a baby face and sunken features. There were even faint wrinkles on his loose skin, hinting at a once-chubby physique. Of course, nothing was more effective than an apocalypse for weight loss; most people were malnourished now. Surviving was already a feat; maintaining a plump figure required considerable wealth and power.
“Sir, it’s all painted over up there. It says first prize and second prize next to numbers like 1, 4, 16 below it. It also says lottery grand prize—every product worth 1 yuan purchased or sold will earn a lottery ticket. Only winners can scratch off the coating,” the boy exclaimed excitedly.
“Sir, they’re still buying Zombie Crystal s and those Garbage Evolution Fruits! Finally, I can breathe easy. My dad hid these things like treasures in a box underground, but he died outside. Now I can finally trade them for some food.” The boy finally revealed a smile of happiness that hadn’t graced his face in over a month.
His father’s team had been surrounded by zombies on the prairie; they had been wiped out completely. Only distant mercenaries returned with news of their deaths.
From then on, he and his younger sister were left without support. Each day they relied on scavenging for resources on the prairie to exchange for food just to get by while also taking care of his three-year-younger sister.
He was responsible for scavenging, while his sister cleaned and maintained the items he collected, making them shiny again before selling them on the streets.
Most of the time, it was clothes and shoes, which were worn by Zombies. The Mercenary groups needed the accessories on them, not the clothes and shoes.
In the Gathering Place, such trash was incredibly cheap.
He barely managed to survive by relying on the discarded garbage of others.
Today might be the biggest harvest he had in a month, as he was likely to sell all the junk from his father's Mercenary group.
That was what his father received separately after a collective haul during his time in the Mercenary group.
It was a form of assistance from the community for the two children.
Today, they might finally have a decent meal without being robbed along the way, as more soldiers were appearing on Fortune God Street.
Usually, they could scavenge while avoiding soldiers and their plundering without being pursued. However, if they violated the rules set by the First Division, they would be executed without mercy on the spot.
"Thank you! Thank you so much for giving us Survivors a chance to continue scraping by," said a middle-aged man, tears beginning to well up in his eyes.
The boy looked closely at the old man in front of him and suddenly exclaimed, "Old man, aren't you Master Wu from our Han Sui Baji Quan? My dad wanted to send me to your martial arts school to lose weight after the apocalypse!"
The boy's shout attracted the attention of those around them. They then realized that the middle-aged man scavenging outside the Gathering Place with them was actually a Bajiquan Master from the Post-Apocalypse—a regular on local television and a permanent member of the National Martial Arts Association.
However, they soon understood that it didn't matter if he was a Bajiquan Master; in this apocalypse, engaging in close combat with Zombies was simply asking for trouble. The skills he had honed over a lifetime of practicing Bajiquan had become useless in this era where strength ruled supreme.
If he were willing to rob scavengers entering and exiting the Gathering Place, life might be somewhat easier for him.
But as a pure martial artist, he couldn't do that—he truly couldn't. A martial artist's discipline and dignity prevented him from such actions; upholding justice was what they should do. Yet… when the apocalypse first struck, he had been chased into a corner with no way out. He jumped from the fourth floor and was lucky to only break a leg; now even walking caused him pain, let alone using all his skills.
"Child, I am Wu Yingzhou, not some great master; I just know how to perform a few Fist Techniques," Wu Yingzhou said as he patted the boy's head. "It's a pity that if this were still the Post-Apocalypse, I would teach you Fist Techniques. But now… teaching you Fist Techniques would only put you in danger."
Wu Yingzhou shook his head repeatedly. He had a precious grandson to take care of, one he had fought hard to save, sacrificing the best time for medical treatment for his own leg in the process.
In this post-apocalyptic world, the elderly lived on solely to care for their grandchildren, enduring everything and fearing that if something happened to them, their ten-year-old grandchild would starve without anyone to look after him.
“Master, why not take me as your disciple? Teach me the Fist Technique, help me strengthen my body so that I can fight Zombies outside the Gathering Place and avenge my father,” the young boy said through gritted teeth, determination in his voice.
“It’s useless. I only know the Fist Technique; I’ve never trained with weapons. In this Post-Apocalypse, being proficient in one skill is better than being mediocre at many. But who knew that in this environment, the Fist Technique would be ineffective? If you try to punch a Zombie and just scrape your skin a little, you could lose your life. You can’t even get close without risking it; what’s the point of practicing the Fist Technique?” Wu Yingzhou shook his head. “This is an era of teamwork and luck, and it’s also an era for long-range weapons. Close combat has become completely obsolete. If it weren’t for my grandson needing care, I would have eaten this deadly fruit and taken my chances.”
Wu Yingzhou looked at the two bags he was carrying, filled to the brim with fruit, his teeth grinding in frustration.
“Yeah, it seems only those Superpowered Individuals have a way out. If it weren’t for my sister, I would have eaten it long ago,” the boy said, patting the backpack on his chest.
He was carrying seven large Travel Bags, all dirty and filled with Garbage Evolution Fruit and a small amount of Zombie Crystal s.
“Sigh, fate really plays tricks on people. If only I could win a prize from that sign up ahead! Just look at how extravagant they are; they must have something good,” Wu Yingzhou lamented.
“Yeah, if I had even a little bit of luck, I would risk everything to seize it!” the boy exclaimed.
Survivors still alive in this world were not just hiding like rats; as long as they were given hope and a chance to fight back, they would throw caution to the wind. Because they had something far more important to protect.
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