CHAPTER 344: CHAPTER 7: OIL REFINING (PART 2)

"My name is Sani, just like you, I skipped work in the afternoon, so for dinner, I only got potatoes and got put on the ’blacklist’.

The stranger dragged Omar into the darkness and headed towards the ’basic labor force’ dormitory.

When Omar tried to struggle, he grabbed his arm tightly and whispered, "Don’t be stupid, there are monitors all over this camp. Your every move will arouse suspicion.

We underestimated these yellow-skinned monkeys. They actually know a bit about management. Not only do they want to bind us forever with food, but they’ve also lured a bunch of fools to be their lackeys."

Omar glanced around and lowered his voice, "What do you mean?"

"It means your original plan won’t work, but seeking ’external allies’ is a way." Sani walked as if strolling, leading Omar slowly through their makeshift shelter, "Do you remember last winter’s experience?"

"Of course I remember, it was difficult to endure." Omar replied, "There was still some food, but electricity and fuel were scarce. We had to tear down houses and burn wood to get through it. But more people didn’t make it."

Compared to the scarcity of water, electricity, and food, the threat of low winter temperatures is often underestimated, but it’s actually more deadly.

Once the polar cold wave howls southward, it can freeze the land into an icy wasteland within hours. Those unprepared will die in this suddenly descending severe colds.

"Heh," Sani’s gaze shifted to the corner of the camp where the "homemade oil refining" equipment was located, speaking proudly, "I’ve always had a long-term perspective.

This year’s food situation is even tighter than last year, so if we want to survive this long, cold winter, we need to start preparing now. But not in a disorderly way like you."

Omar listened, somewhat thoughtful but quickly realized Sani was subtly calling him foolish. He said angrily, "What ideas do you have?"

Sani entered the so-called "dormitory"—actually a large empty room. Inside, several "basic laborers" stood up, blocking Omar front and back with unfriendly faces.

Omar’s complexion changed dramatically. He tried to struggle to escape the encirclement, but found his shoulders and arms were firmly held by several strong arms, rendering him immobile.

Sani’s expression turned from gentle to sinister, leaning close to Omar’s eyes, he whispered, "We need to be patient, and wait slowly. Wait until this camp is completely built, then strike to seize it."

"As for how to seize it, that’s for me to command, not for you to decide. In the meantime, you better work obediently and not cause trouble. Otherwise, I’ll make you shut up forever right now, got it?"

Omar felt a surge of dread, his body involuntarily trembling. It was then he realized he had oversimplified things.

Within this seemingly simple camp, there wasn’t just an apparent ruler, but a gang was rapidly growing in the shadows.

This seemingly inconspicuous Sani had somehow gathered subordinates, becoming a small leader in the dark.

Omar nodded repeatedly as if a hand was squeezing his throat, responding in a dry voice, "Understood, I understand."

"Go to sleep!" Sani, as if shooing away a pesky bug, pointed to the "dormitory" basement and gave a low shout, "Oh, and from now on, I want ten percent of your work points as protection fee."

After Omar left like a dog with its tail between its legs, Sani scratched the back of his head, casting a rebellious gaze towards the core area at the center of the camp.

That’s the residential area for the key members of the "Holy Light" team.

These days, ’Warthog’ and Pika show up now and then, and each time they bring two to three tons of supplies, including not just precious food and medicine, but also batteries for keeping the core area running.

Although there was a blackout curfew in the core area, it was already powered, with lighting during the night.

Zhou Qingfeng and the others lived conditions no different from usual, which was worlds apart from the "basic labor force" living in rudimentary "dormitories".

It was mid-summer, the air outside the camp was scorching, and ordinary people in the stuffy rooms felt as if they were panting like dehydrated stray dogs to cool off.

Yet in the core area, people could enjoy air conditioning and ice cream—the large-capacity batteries on the electric Pika trucks were now playing a huge role.

Sani said hatefully, "Why can those yellow-skinned monkeys have enough to and drink, yet work to enslave us? We aren’t their black slaves, and we won’t pick cotton for them."

A subordinate nearby asked somberly, "Should we get rid of Omar? This black guy is too restless, he might ruin things for us."

Sani shook his head, "No, at least not now. Those yellow-skinned monkeys are fierce, they want order and don’t care if we live or die.

It’s easy to kill Omar, but if they discover we’re up to something in the shadows, they might wipe us all out—if I were in charge, I’d certainly do that."

The subordinates exchanged glances, and someone asked in a low voice, "Then what do we do next?"

"Wait..." Sani whispered, "I’ve already sent someone to contact survivors in nearby towns. Surely someone is interested in the supplies of these yellow-skinned monkeys."

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In the corner of the camp, the simplified "homemade oil refining" equipment had been buzzing and operating for half a day.

The refining vat maintained a temperature of hundreds of degrees Celsius, transforming discarded plastic in an oxygen-deficient enclosed environment through dry distillation metamorphosis, where solid polymer molecules break and evaporate, becoming light hydrocarbon gas.