As Biao’s words fell, a woman in tattered clothes—whose eyes had been dull and lifeless—suddenly showed a flicker of hope. She staggered to her feet and pointed at a brawny, menacing man in the crowd.

"Those two men were his thugs! Ever since the apocalypse, he’s been... been violating us women—"

"Can you please kill him?"

"You have no idea what we’ve been through—"

"Shut up."

Biao shot the woman an impatient look. "Everyone, get up and get out of this container. Now. Another word out of you, and you’ll be the first to die."

The woman froze, and the hope in her eyes instantly extinguished. After a long moment, she lowered her head and mumbled, "I thought... I thought you were here to save us."

Biao couldn’t be bothered to explain. He just waved his hand. Under the cold glares of the guards, the survivors shakily rose from the corner and filed out of the container.

Shanmaozi, standing to the side, scanned the faces of the women, his face etched with anxiety. When he didn’t see who he was looking for, he was about to speak—

—when a rough hand clamped down on his shoulder.

Biao clapped Shanmaozi’s shoulder, his lips moving silently as he shook his head.

Shanmaozi paused, then understood. He forced himself to calm down.

Soon, the survivors were herded out of the containers and into the open yard. Having not seen the sun in a long time, they squeezed their eyes shut and huddled together, uncertain of their fate.

"Sirs!"

The brawny man who had been holding the flashlight dropped to his knees, his eyes squeezed shut as he yelled, his voice thick with fear. "Don’t listen to that bitch’s lies! My brothers and I have been the ones scavenging for supplies all this time!"

"The canned food they ate, the blankets they slept on, the water they drank—we risked our lives to get all of it!"

"We lost several brothers doing it!"

"So I slept with a few of them! What’s wrong with that? Besides, I never forced them! They came to me for the food!"

Just then, another woman’s voice choked with tears rose in a heart-wrenching cry. "If we didn’t sleep with you, you wouldn’t give us food! You think we wanted to sleep with you?"

"My ass, you wanted to!" the brawny man roared, his face contorted with rage. "You think I wanted the apocalypse to happen? Then why the hell didn’t you go find your food? Did I stop you?"

"If you’d given me food with no strings attached, that would be kindness! That would be something worth talking about!"

"Kindness can go to hell!"

"..."

Biao said nothing. He couldn’t be bothered with this drama. He’d always believed that anyone who survived the apocalypse was no saint. The good people had died long ago.

They were all just a bunch of bastards.

No point in comparing who was the bigger bastard.

He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, tilting his head back to look at the glaring sun. He waited patiently. Soon, the roar of an engine grew louder, and a train—covered in thick, black armor and supported by dozens of mechanical legs—picked its way through the city ruins and came to a slow stop in the container yard.

Then—

A young man, leaning on a cane, descended from a ladder that lowered from the locomotive. With every step he took, the barrels of the heavy machine guns and rocket launchers on the roof of the train swiveled slightly.

By the time the man reached the ground, the weapons were all aimed directly at the survivors.

The scene fell deathly silent.

The man and woman who had been accusing each other just moments before now stood with their mouths agape, staring in disbelief, their eyes filled with utter shock.

Just then, Chen Mang’s voice boomed from the train’s external speakers.

"Everyone, proceed to the last carriage—the slave car."

This eleventh carriage was one he had built on the fly, costing 100 units of iron ore, to temporarily house the survivors.

Chen Mang stood in the yard, a faint smile on his face as he looked at the ragged group before him. With the Search Radar, finding slaves had become so much easier. No matter how well they hid, he could find them.

He needed more slaves.

That way, when he found his next mine, his production efficiency would be even higher.

No one ever complained about having too many slaves. He could afford to feed as many as he could find.

They looked a bit weak, but a little nourishment back on the train would fix that. This group, like the last, had no elderly or children. In the apocalypse, they were a rare commodity. A year had passed since the world ended; surviving this long was no easy feat.

He then returned to the locomotive.

His goal was to rescue 1,000 survivors.

With the Search Radar, the Hive Mind, and Biao’s team of motorcycle-riding guards, finding them had become incredibly simple.

He went back into the locomotive. He had no intention of giving a speech; he’d wait until he had all the survivors. He had only come down to admire his first batch of spoils.

The woman who had been listing the man’s crimes just moments ago was now speechless, her mouth hanging slightly open as she stared at Chen Mang.

For some reason...

Although the armed man had just executed two people before their eyes, his cold demeanor oddly gave her the strength to express her despair. In contrast, the young man who stepped down from the front of the train, despite his smiling face, instilled such deep terror that she found herself completely speechless.

In an instant, all the survivors fell silent. They quietly followed Biao and the others toward the last carriage, looking surprisingly obedient.

"Tsk."

Biao couldn’t help but scratch the back of his head, clicking his tongue. "These people are quite sharp. Why didn’t they shout at Boss Mang when he came down? Do I seem so easily pushed around?”

He pulled the shard of a Carriage Blade from his coat, looked at his stubbled reflection, and tried to make a fierce face. He then turned to Hei Wa beside him, puzzled.

"Am I not intimidating?"

"You are, Brother Biao."

"Then why don’t they seem afraid of me?"

"Maybe they thought you were a good person, here to save them."

"And Boss Mang?"

"Boss Mang doesn’t look like a good person."

"He doesn’t?"

"Does he?"

"Hei Wa, let me remind you, the Hive Mind is still on."

"He does! I misspoke. Boss Mang radiates righteousness. Especially with those four 40-barrel rocket launchers. They just scream ’justice.’"

Just then—

Inside the locomotive, Chen Mang looked at the Search Radar, at the other cluster of survivors. After zooming in on each person’s information, he froze a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

An old acquaintance.

Among this group of survivors, one of the women was none other than Ji Chuchu.

Wasn’t Ji Chuchu a slave on another train? What was she doing here?

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