Chapter 143
Weasel-face couldn’t believe his ears.
At first, seeing the black market’s doubled foot traffic, he’d been thrilled.
—Zone A vendors paid him protection fees, and the more they earned, the more he skimmed. Normally, 90% of customers flocked to Zone A.
So, imagining the profits, Weasel-face had been giddy.
…But that joy was short-lived.
When he noticed crowds gathering near the exit to Zone B, he’d been puzzled.
Had a popular new stall opened in Zone B? The line even spilling into Zone A was unheard of.
Zone B profits meant smaller cuts, but money was money.
Curious, he’d asked a mercenary at the back: “What’s this line for? Some hot new stall in Zone B?”
The mercenary gave him a weird look. “Zone B? This is for—”
Just then, Pancake Boss Wang from Zone A came wailing over. “Boss, do something! Our customers are gone—they’re all lining up for that damn—”
“Simple Porridge Stall in Zone F!”
The mercenary and Boss Wang said it in unison.
Weasel-face: “…”
Weasel-face: “……?????”
Simple Porridge Stall in Zone F?!
His eyes bulged as he dug a finger into his ear, certain he’d misheard. But the two men’s earnest expressions left no room for doubt.
Weasel-face felt his breath hitch.
The image of that handsome young man hauling porridge buckets flashed through his mind.
Could it be…?
No, impossible! How?!
Zone F was a ten-minute walk from Zone A! And this line stretched the entire way? Thousands of people?! Was that porridge made of gold?!
Gasping for air, Weasel-face pinched his philtrum hard, forcing himself to focus.
Pale with rage, he grabbed the mercenary’s shoulders, nearly hysterical. “Are you insane?! That trash porridge from Zone F is worth this?! A line from F to A—are you joking?!”
“Hey, hands off!” The mercenary shoved him away, annoyed. “I saw it myself—that porridge’s steaming hot, cheap, and repairs cores… Only an idiot wouldn’t line up!”
Weasel-face recoiled.
“Repairs cores? Just repairs co—wait, REPAIRS CORES?!?!”
His mouth fell open in a perfect ‘O.’
His jaw hit the floor.
*
One hour later.
“Brother Zhou, about that Simple Porridge Stall…” Weasel-face rubbed his hands nervously, sweating buckets as he trailed Li Zhou.
“I’ve heard the rumors,” Li Zhou cut him off with a gesture, striding toward Zone F. “If that porridge truly repairs cores as they say—”
A glint of greed and ruthlessness flashed in his eyes.
“If he wants to keep running his stall in my black market? Fine. But from now on, his porridge will be sold to me—Li Zhou—and me alone!”
He closed his eyes, inhaling the faint aroma of porridge lingering in the air, imagining it endlessly replenishing his core’s energy, making him stronger, more untouchable…
Li Zhou couldn’t help but smirk, triumphant.
The taste of power was intoxicating.
This was his greatest revelation since eliminating Mu Dongsheng.
Back when Mu Dongsheng held power, he’d been shackled—caring about this, worrying about that—how pathetic. But now that he sat in that seat, Li Zhou understood just how exhilarating true authority could be!
Whatever he wanted, a single word would make it his.
That porridge, drawing crowds like moths to a flame? One command, and its owner would grovel, serving it to him on a silver platter!
And with his S-rank lightning core and this endlessly restorative porridge, he’d climb the ladder of power until the entire world bowed before him!
Just the thought made his blood boil with excitement.
Suddenly, a voice snapped him back to reality.
“What if… what if the porridge stall owner refuses?” Weasel-face hesitated.
For some reason, he sensed that young man wasn’t the type to yield easily.
There was something… different about him. Weasel-face even suspected the guy didn’t run the stall for money or survival—but simply because he enjoyed it, relishing the joy of sharing good food.
“Refuse?” Li Zhou’s eyes flew open, annoyed by the suggestion. He scoffed. “Then we persuade him—until he agrees.”
—”Deliver my message: If he wants to keep making porridge, he’ll make it exclusively for Li Zhou. No other mercenary gets a single drop. If he declines… he can forget about operating anywhere in the Eastern Base!”
This entire base was his domain.
Those who submitted would thrive; those who resisted would perish!
Li Zhou refused to believe some measly porridge vendor had the spine to defy him. Without the Eastern Base, where could he even go? Set up shop outside?
The wilderness teemed with mutants. Survival alone would be a struggle—let alone running a stall.
Victory was assured.
…Which was why, upon reaching Zone F and finding it empty,
Li Zhou’s mind blanked.
The corner where Simple Porridge Stall had stood was now utterly vacant—no stove, no sign, no clay pots, no smiling owner.
Not just the owner—even the customers had vanished like scattered birds.
…Naturally. They’d only queued for porridge. With the stall gone, why stay?
“Brother Zhou, Brother Zhou—” Weasel-face looked ready to cry. “That Boss Jian left you a message. He said—”
“‘Thanks, but no thanks.'”
Li Zhou: “…”
Li Zhou: “????????”
Staring at the abandoned spot, Li Zhou felt all his blood rush to his head, his vision whitening. The next second, steam practically shot from his ears, nose, and mouth.
Li Zhou had exploded with rage.
*
Let’s rewind time a little.
Upon hearing the ultimatum—”Either make porridge exclusively for Li Zhou or be banned from selling in the Eastern Base”—Jian Yunlan, who had been busily packing porridge for customers, paused and asked two questions.
First question: “Who is Li Zhou?”
—The answer: Li Zhou is currently the strongest mercenary in the Eastern Base. His word is law here; no one dares defy him.
Second question: “If I can’t sell inside the base, can I sell outside?”
—The answer: Huh? Well… technically, no one said you couldn’t. Outside the base is free territory—free but dangerous, with no regulations. But Boss, are you sure you want to set up shop out there? A normal person wouldn’t last three days!
With that answer, Jian Yunlan promptly began packing up.
What a joke.
He was a street food vendor, meant to share delicious food with the world. If he had to make porridge only for Li Zhou from now on, what would that make him? A private chef? That wasn’t his calling.
If he couldn’t sell inside the base, he’d sell outside.
Jian Yunlan’s thought process was just that simple.
As for mutants and safety concerns…
Customers still in line panicked when they saw Jian Yunlan packing up. “Boss! Boss, where are you going? We haven’t gotten our porridge yet!”
Jian Yunlan shook his head, handing out the last prepaid bowl before explaining regretfully:
“Sorry, due to certain circumstances, I can’t sell porridge inside the base anymore. See you all outside the base tomorrow.”
With that, he took down his sign, covered the porridge bucket, grabbed his clay pot, and left!
Honestly, not being able to sell in the base might be for the best.
Jian Yunlan vaguely remembered one of the Culinary God System’s mission requirements: “Sell 500 bowls of porridge within three days—no more, no less.” And now, before the second day was even over, he’d already sold over 400 bowls. At this rate, he’d hit 500 today.
Selling 500 bowls in two days would probably count as a mission failure.
…Selling outside the base, while uncertain in terms of customers, at least avoided an outright failure.
Plus, Jian Yunlan had long been fed up with the black market’s protection fee extortion. Setting up outdoors, under the open sky, felt liberating—full of possibilities!
No hesitation.
The thought of setting up shop in the post-apocalyptic wilderness was thrilling—a whole new environment.
As for safety…
Didn’t he have an active-duty mercenary and ancient beast as an employee?
Exiting the black market and turning a corner, Jian Yunlan summoned his divine beast:
“Lord Taotie!”
Moonlight spilled softly as a breeze swept by.
A lazy voice sounded in his ear:
“Human, what do you want?”
*
Meanwhile, in Zone F of the black market’s food district…
Customers wailed in despair as the porridge stall owner vanished at lightning speed.
Amid the cries of anguish, someone muttered:
“It’s all because of that bastard Li Zhou! He forced Boss Jian to either serve him alone or leave the base—he drove Boss Jian away!”
“Li Zhou has done every evil deed imaginable—when will he finally die?!”
“Goddammit, I can’t take this anymore! First, he killed Captain Mu, persecuted his old allies, and now he’s chased off Boss Jian…”
“Let’s fight him!!!” “Fight!!! Better to die standing than live kneeling!!!”
…The power of good food became the final straw.
The mercenaries’ long-suppressed resentment toward Li Zhou erupted!
So will the other mercenaries basically force Li Zhou to exhaust his core and forced to be a mercenary again?