Chapter 131
At the mention of Mu Dongsheng, the crowd sighed:
“I still can’t believe Captain Mu is really gone. Just last month, he was mentoring rookies in our squad.”
“Yeah. So strong, so kind… just lousy at judging character.”
“Part of me still thinks he’ll stroll back one day, tossing a mutant core like it’s nothing, laughing over drinks with us…”
“But even he couldn’t have survived an S-rank pollutant.”
To the Eastern Base, Mu Dongsheng—with his supreme lightning abilities—had been a guardian deity. Thanks to him, this base had become the safest and largest human settlement.
…Other bases, like the recently fallen Northern Base and the Southern Base, still struggled against increasingly frequent mutant waves, suffering heavy casualties each time.
The Eastern Base was different. Mu Dongsheng’s power had deterred low-to-mid-rank mutants for miles.
Thus, life here was almost normal—people grew potatoes, even raised livestock. In this resource-starved world, most could still eat meat (albeit genetically hybridized).
After Mu Dongsheng’s disappearance, panic spread.
Many still refused to believe it. Residents gathered at the walls, praying for a miracle.
*
Wang Peng studied the team before him—the snowflake tattoos on their arms, the emblem of Mu Dongsheng’s elite 11th Squad.
In Mu Dongsheng’s day, they’d been respected. Feared.
“What happened?” Wang Peng asked. “Why’s the 11th Squad arguing with Weasel-face?”
The mercenary beside him lowered his voice. “That guy’s riding his master’s coattails… Ever since Captain Mu left, the 11th gets assigned the hardest, deadliest, least profitable missions.”
“See?” The mercenary pointed ahead. “They just got back from a mission, wanted to grab a hot meal, and Weasel-face jumped out saying they’re banned! Won’t let them buy anything!”
Wang Peng was stunned.
This was beyond bullying!
He’d heard that back when Mu Dongsheng was around, he’d cleaned up the Black Market’s dining district. Weasel-face and his gang, unable to extort protection fees, had seethed with resentment—but Mu Dongsheng’s presence kept them in check.
Now, the moment Mu Dongsheng was gone, they’d turned on his former team.
As fellow mercenaries, everyone understood how vile this was.
After a grueling mission, all you wanted was a hot bowl of porridge, some flatbread—something to refuel for the next day’s hardships.
But even that small comfort was being denied.
After days of this, the 11th Squad’s stamina and morale had hit rock bottom.
Hence the current clash.
The scene ahead grew even more chaotic.
“If we can’t buy food in Zone A, at least let us get some alcohol!”
The blue-haired sniper girl—her face haggard, like she hadn’t slept in days—spoke up. “Captain Mu always loved the rice wine here…”
At those words, several squad members visibly choked up, their eyes reddening.
Even bystanders couldn’t stay silent:
“Weasel-face, you’re going too far.”
“Yeah! Mocking the dead? Captain Mu’s barely gone, and you’re already pulling this crap!”
“Just let them buy some food and drinks, damn it…”
As they spoke, some mercenaries began hurling trash—rotten vegetables, empty bowls—at Weasel-face.
A half-rotten egg smacked him sideways.
Covering his face, Weasel-face seethed—but he was just a powerless lackey. Against this crowd, he faltered.
“Fine! Fine!” he spat. “You all have a death wish? Forget who’s in charge now? My brother Li Zhou runs this base—”
Speak of the devil.
A gentle voice cut through the noise:
“Xiao Hou, what’s the trouble?”
The voice wasn’t loud, but the power behind it silenced the crowd instantly.
Those who’d been defending the 11th Squad shut their mouths.
The squad members themselves stiffened, their breathing ragged, their eyes burning with hatred as they turned toward the newcomer.
Wang Peng didn’t need to guess who it was.
Like everyone else, he looked:
A man strode in from the entrance.
Tall, but unlike most mercenaries, he wasn’t in mission gear. Instead, he wore a hoodie and jeans—pre-apocalypse casual, like a college student on break.
His face was handsome, but his eyes were shadowed, his brows perpetually furrowed, giving him a petty, scheming air.
—Li Zhou. Former A-rank mercenary. Until last week, he’d been a nobody—just “Mu Dongsheng’s partner.”
Back then, Li Zhou had been quiet, diligent, content to stay in Mu Dongsheng’s shadow, handling thankless cleanup work.
But now?
After transplanting Mu Dongsheng’s S-rank lightning core, Li Zhou had leapt from obscurity to become the Eastern Base’s only S-rank mercenary.
Its de facto ruler.
Yet debates still raged: Was he worthy?
But when he appeared, the sheer pressure of his S-rank abilities made even the boldest tremble.
…The same lightning, the same core—yet while Mu Dongsheng’s power had felt protective, Li Zhou’s was oppressive. Violent. Toxic.
His arrival plunged the scene into silence.
Only Weasel-face brightened:
“Brother Zhou! You’re here!”
His demeanor did a complete 180, his face splitting into a fawning grin as he scurried over. “Brother Zhou, look—we’ve got all the food you asked for ready.”
Li Zhou nodded.
His gaze swept the crowd, lingering indifferently on the 11th Squad’s hate-filled stares.
Where his eyes passed, mercenaries averted their gazes, not daring to meet them.
Satisfied, Li Zhou gave a slight nod.
“What’s all this commotion?” he asked, though he clearly knew.
Weasel-face immediately put on a pitiful act. “Brother Zhou, it’s the new rule—the 11th Squad refuses to comply—”
“Members of the 11th Squad have excessive radiation exposure. They’re barred from dining in Zone A.” Li Zhou spoke slowly, deliberately. “By ignoring my decree, are you defying the Eastern Base’s authority?”
“Under Regulation 45, S-rank mercenaries have absolute command over the Black Market.”
“Do you want to be exiled?”
Wang Peng—and every onlooker—gasped.
This was blatant persecution. As if Li Zhou had planned this all along.
The 11th Squad had heard enough.
The buzz-cut mercenary, his face ashen, lunged forward and grabbed Li Zhou’s collar:
“Li Zhou, you fucking traitor!!! The whole base knows you set up Captain Mu—left him to die alone so you could steal his core—”
The buzz-cut mercenary’s grip was ironclad—Li Zhou nearly lifted off the ground, his face twisting in fury.
“Lies!” Li Zhou spat. “Mu Dongsheng was unlucky—got taken by an S-rank pollutant. What does that have to do with me? What would I gain from setting him up?! Guards—seize him—”
The accusation echoed what many suspected… but no one dared say it to Li Zhou’s face.
With a single command, Li Zhou could have the man exiled—banished from the Eastern Base forever.
The consequences were unthinkable.
The 11th Squad paled, panic-stricken.
Then—the middle-aged mercenary in sunglasses stepped in.
He yanked the buzz-cut mercenary back, tossing him aside as others quickly restrained him. The man struggled, but with his jaw clamped and arm dislocated, he could only let out muffled growls.
“Mmgh—C-Captain Mu—” Tears of rage glistened in his eyes.
Masking his own anguish, the middle-aged mercenary forced a smile, pressing a cloth pouch into Li Zhou’s hands:
“Brother Zhou, please—he’s just a hotheaded kid. My fault for not teaching him better. For my sake—Yi Chunqing—let this slide… We scored some high-grade cores on this mission. All yours as apology.”
He added something under his breath.
Li Zhou’s expression flickered.
Weighing his options.
The tension was suffocating.
…Finally, after an eternity, Li Zhou exhaled and took the pouch. “Fine. This once. Never again.”
“Brother Zhou,” Yi Chunqing ventured cautiously, “what about… the food and drinks?”
“You can’t buy in Zone A, but Zone F’s always open.” Li Zhou smiled. “Don’t be picky. Be grateful you’re getting anything.”
Zone F’s food was rotten. The worst of the worst.
The 11th Squad’s faces darkened—but they couldn’t argue.
Li Zhou held all the power.
“Enough gawking. Disperse,” Li Zhou ordered the crowd.
Weasel-face immediately barked at his thugs to shoo people away: “Move along! Stop blocking the stalls—others want to eat!”
With the spectacle over—and Li Zhou’s presence unnerving—the crowd reluctantly scattered.
The path finally cleared.
Wang Peng, still clutching his takeout porridge, headed for the exit.
Then—a weary, hoarse voice stopped him:
“Hey, brother… mind telling me where you got that porridge?”
Will Wang Peng see it’s from one of the 11th squad’s member…say it’s from Zone F and near the back of the alleyway?