Chapter 10: Spine-Chilling Dread
An inexplicable chill crept up the spines of the onlookers straight to their scalps, leaving their entire bodies numb with dread.
No one who had managed to survive the end of the world was a fool. Spurred by Su Han’s pointed remarks, it took them only a heartbeat to grasp exactly who that faint red core belonged to.
After a long, suffocating silence, a voice piped up from within the crowd:
“Uh… if I remember right, didn’t Zhang Qiang have a fight with our Leader yesterday?”
The speaker was none other than Know-It-All.
A faint smirk curled at the corner of Su Han’s lips.
Nicely played. I’ll make sure to slip you an extra chicken leg when I get back.
“This is going too damn far!” The ability user who had previously run in Zhang Qiang’s squad finally snapped. “Back when Leader Shen was running this place, when did we ever have to swallow this kind of humiliation?!”
Hope Base had been built from the ground up by Leader Shen, a pristine sanctuary carved out of the apocalyptic wasteland where butchering one’s own brothers was strictly forbidden. Back in those days, if teammates got into a fistfight, both parties were locked in solitary confinement for three full days!
Now look at what a rotten sty it had turned into under Wang Jiafu’s thumb!
“I don’t give a damn anymore—I’m going to confront Wang Jiafu and get some justice for our dead brothers!”
“Are you insane?! Do you want to end up like Zhang Qiang?!”
The other ability users reacted swiftly, lunging forward to pin his arms, while the captain of the perimeter guard let out a heavy sigh.
“Enough. The less trouble we stir up, the better. Let’s pretend today never happened. Go on home, all of you.”
As the crowd dispersed, Su Han slipped the crystal cores back into his pocket and quietly walked away, burying his name and deed deep in the shadows.
He knew well enough that a petty revelation like this wouldn’t be enough to spark an outright rebellion among these people.
In an apocalypse, who didn’t crave a secure roof over their head? An internal coup meant bloodshed, and nobody wanted to turn their weapons on each other.
Even so, this was plenty.
All he had to do was hammer a tiny nail into every single person’s heart. Once enough nails accumulated, the grand tower would inevitably crumble under its own weight.
Wang Jiafu was blissfully unaware that his dirty laundry had already been laid bare. Once the parade wound down, he retrieved the crystal core that had belonged to Zhang Qiang, rolling it tightly in his palm.
“Zhang Qiang, oh Zhang Qiang… did you ever imagine you’d see this day?”
Of course Zhang Qiang’s death had been silent. Any ability user hit with a heavy syringe of tranquilizer was reduced to nothing more than meat on a chopping block.
In this brutal world, survival was a contest of who was more ruthless. He would slaughter anyone who dared challenge him, just as he had systematically eliminated every single one of Shen Chengyin’s trusted friends.
Zhang Qiang had been a primary ability user, meaning his core held a considerable amount of energy. Wang Jiafu was still too weak; absorbing a core of this magnitude would take him at least two full weeks of meditation.
A knock rattled the office door. Wang Jiafu’s top confidant—now serving as the chief captain of Hope Base’s security corps—stepped inside.
“Leader, the folk down in the Lower Sector are starting to kick up a fuss.”
From its inception, Hope Base had never distinguished between an Upper and Lower Sector. Regardless of whether someone possessed an ability or held any combat strength, every survivor under its aegis was granted equal right to dwell in the same zone.
Wang Jiafu had always despised Shen Chengyin for that decision. Unfortunately, the early rules Shen Chengyin established had dug deep roots into the people’s hearts, making it impossible for Wang Jiafu to overhaul everything the moment he seized power.
Behind closed doors, however, Wang Jiafu and his inner circle had long since sorted the survivors into high-borns and low-lifes, quietly shuffling the defenseless deadweight into the draftiest, most desolate corners of the fortress.
Those forgotten corners were what Wang Jiafu dubbed the “Lower Sector.”
Wang Jiafu scowled. “What do they have to kick up a fuss about? It’s not like they’re being sent past the walls to risk their necks for supplies.”
He had grown sick of feeding those freeloaders long ago. If not for the fact that many of them were relatives of the ability users, he would have fed the whole lot to the zombie hordes weeks ago.
The captain hesitated, choosing his words with extreme care:
“…The people in the Lower Sector want to know why this week’s relief rations weren’t handed out.”
The Lower Sector was largely comprised of the elderly, the frail, the sick, and the crippled. Incapable of foraging outside, they maintained the base’s internal operations instead.
Their duties included sweeping the streets, burning the dead, hauling crates, handing out supplies, and tending to the experimental greenhouse plots.
The bare essentials they needed to survive were provided as uniform rations from the central depot.
Keeping a person alive was cheap enough—a few bottles of clean water and a couple crusts of bread were plenty.
Right now, however, Wang Jiafu was racking his brains trying to patch the gaping hole in the food storehouses; where would he scrounge up extra provisions to waste on that rabble?
“Tell the depot crew that policy is scrapped. Starting today, the base won’t be feeding them. Let them fend for themselves.”
Wang Jiafu waved a dismissive hand.
The captain wavered, unable to resist speaking up: “Leader, isn’t that a bit harsh…?”
Those people had zero fighting strength. Cutting them off from the base’s rations was basically a death sentence—they would starve in the gutters.
“Take the supplies we save and double the allotments for the ability users and the families of the high-borns. That’ll keep their mouths shut.”
In the apocalypse, only the elites had a voice.
Accepting his orders, the captain turned and left. Wang Jiafu picked up the hot tea from his desk, threw his head back to down a scalding mouthful, and headed home.
That itch between his legs was acting up again, and his little bed-warmer was waiting for him under the sheets.
When the new policy was handed down, the survivors erupted.
While heading out of the base to scavenge, Su Han noticed a sudden surge of old folks, women, and the disabled mixed in with the departing teams, which struck him as odd.
Drifting closer, he heard bitter complaints echoing from the crowds.
Still, it was only those categorized as the “Lower Sector” by Wang Jiafu who dared mutter in hushed, resentful tones. The ability users and their dependents, pacified by the extra grease and grain, maintained a tacful, unbroken silence.
Hearing the whispers, Su Han’s expression turned grim. To verify the truth of the rumors, he sought out Know-It-All the moment he stepped back into the base at dusk.
Know-It-All was on the verge of tears.
Partially crippled, he was far shorter and frailer than average men, surviving solely on odd errand jobs around the base and the weekly welfare rations.
With the welfare cut off, if he didn’t venture beyond the safety of the perimeter to forage, he would literally starve to death.
This time, Su Han handed Know-It-All an extra steamed bun and gave his shoulder a firm squeeze, offering silent comfort.
Returning to his villa that evening, Su Han once again chattered away to the male lead, detailing everything he had seen and heard, before tacking on a final thought:
“Wang Jiafu pulling this kind of stunt is going to backfire sooner or later.”
If a settlement operated under iron-fisted cruelty from its very first day, the survivors would have learned to swallow the bitter pill and submit.
However, Wang Jiafu’s recent maneuvers flew in the face of the core principles Hope Base was founded upon. The people wouldn’t take this lying down forever.
Shen Chengyin kept playing the mute, his back turned to Su Han as he changed.
Stripping off his loungewear, the man slipped into the black tactical uniform he had looted off the dead base sentry.
The fabric had been washed clean, faint notes of fresh lemon drifting from the cloth.
“Hey, you going out?” Su Han blinked, his eyes glued shamelessly to the lines of Shen Chengyin’s waist and lower back.
Broad shoulders and a narrow waist—every subtle shift of the man’s torso caused the lean muscles to ripple and tuck with lethal precision. It was drop-dead gorgeous.
Su Han glanced down at his own arms. He had muscle too, a sleek, tight layer hugging his frame, but aside from keeping him toned, it lacked any real imposing presence.
Shen Chengyin finally deigned to make a sound, letting out a low grunt of affirmation.
“Where are you going? Can I tag along?” Su Han asked.
According to the original novel’s timeline, right about now the male lead was supposed to be wandering the wasteland broken and bleeding, until a woman picked him up off the streets simply because he had a pretty face.
If he could help it, he really didn’t want Shen Chengyin getting scooped up by that woman.
