"This nutrient paste has no real nutrition, just tricks your stomach. If you keep drinking it every day, you’ll end up with some deficiency disease."

Taking the five coins, Uncle Dong shook his head, pulled out a small stool, and sat across from Cheng Ye.

"Your dad left you a decent inheritance, and now you’re an inspector. Why be so hard on yourself? The Big Meat Canteen next door smells so good, doesn’t it?"

"Big Meat Canteen?"

Cheng Ye shuddered, his mind flashing with unpleasant memories.

When he first transmigrated, the name had lured him in, but one glance at the menu sent him bolting out without a second’s hesitation.

"Big Meat" was the affectionate nickname Happiness City residents gave to cockroaches.

A plate full of them, sandwiched in malt candy, supposedly crispy and bursting with juice when bitten!

But Cheng Ye decided that unless his life was at stake, he’d eat as little of it as possible, or none at all.

For protein, nutrient paste had plant-based protein. It wasn’t as efficient, but it was a viable substitute.

"I can’t stomach it. This is better."

"Fair enough. You grew up in the inner city, where even the worst stuff is synthetic meat."

Uncle Dong’s wrinkled eyes crinkled, watching Cheng Ye chew the malt candy with loud crunches, a touch of nostalgia in his expression.

"When you first came out here, you were suicidal. Who’d have thought you’d adapt so fast? In just two months, you’re already showing some of your dad’s spirit."

"It’s the environment forcing me to adapt. No choice. My dad pushed himself the same way back then."

Cheng Ye shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

Since arriving in this world and getting familiar with it, he never forgot to keep up appearances, never showing weakness, even to those close to him.

In this cutthroat wasteland, who knew if the person next to you might turn on you in the next moment?

The two chatted idly.

As the sun dipped lower, the last sliver of sunset swallowed by the horizon, the defense comm buzzed.

[Liu Bi: Meet at the usual spot. Got a surprise.]

"Big B’s calling me, Uncle Dong. I’m off."

"Take care."

Slipping the pendant back around his neck, Cheng Ye hurried out, crossing two blocks to the main road and hopping on the buffer zone’s only bus.

The route connected the east and west ends, spanning the entire buffer zone.

Being an electric bus, it ran free during the flood season, so it saw plenty of passengers.

Cheng Ye boarded at the Electronics Factory Workers’ Compound stop and got off at the Training Ground stop.

Stepping off, he landed steadily.

The air carried the thick smell of gunpowder, and the vegetable greenhouse-shaped training ground was already lit up.

Not far from the bus stop, a scruffy-bearded man in a tactical vest, built like a tower, waved him over.

Cheng Ye couldn’t help but smile.

If there was anyone in Happiness City he could trust, it was "Big B" Liu Bi.

As his father Cheng Long’s brother-in-arms, during their last mission together, Cheng Long had sacrificed himself to save Liu Bi, entrusting his only son to this rugged man.

"I haven’t even told you about today’s surprise, and you’re already grinning like that?"

Meeting up, Liu Bi looked puzzled.

"Did someone spill the beans?"

"Huh?"

"You don’t know? Then why the smile?"

Liu Bi smacked his lips, pulling out a half-bag of dark jerky from his pocket and dangling it in front of Cheng Ye. "Synthetic meat from the inner city. Knowing you can’t handle big meat, I got this for you."

"Don’t be polite with me. I don’t want to tell Old Cheng his son starved to death."

"Thanks, B." Cheng Ye didn’t hesitate. If he survived his external duty, he’d have plenty of chances to repay the favor. If he died out there, well, debts die with you, so consider it a loan from his dad.

Taking the jerky, he popped a piece in his mouth, chewing slowly, tasting a faint hint of beef.

Synthetic meat had "meat" in the name, but it was just plant protein mixed with a bit of beef powder for flavor.

Inner city elites wouldn’t touch it, but in the buffer zone, it was a top-tier delicacy.

"Also, from today until your external duty, you get a hundred free bullets daily."

"What?"

"Don’t be shocked. Old Ding approved it. Harlin’s crew’s been getting cockier, openly taking bribes from survivors to let them pass. Ding’s pissed and planning to get serious on the next external duty. It might cost a lot of lives."

Mentioning the East-West faction feud, Liu Bi’s face grew heavy.

Except when it came to protecting inspectors’ interests, the two factions were constantly at odds.

This was something Happiness City’s higher-ups encouraged. The checkpoint held some power, and a single voice would be harder to manage.

The way it was now, with Ding Yishan leading the Easterners and Harlin the Westerners, their rivalry was fierce, and a single word from the higher-ups was treated like a sacred decree from the old era.

"Upping the external duty standards? I’m screwed, aren’t I?"

Cheng Ye’s face paled.

Even regular external missions were deadly. Raising the stakes and getting caught in faction politics...

"Don’t worry. I’ve got your back. I’ll make sure you’re the last to die."

The promise sounded warm, but it only made the little sense of security in Cheng Ye’s heart dwindle further.

By the time they entered the training ground, he was in a hyper-focused learning mode.

Draw, shoot, fire.

The hundred bullets were quickly spent. Compared to before, Cheng Ye’s 25-meter pistol shooting had improved: ten rapid shots with a bullet spread of about fifteen centimeters, roughly 6-8 rings.

In the modern world, that’d be impressive, qualifying him as a skilled amateur shooter.

In the wasteland, it only earned a "decent" from Liu Bi.

"You’re smart, with learning ability far beyond most. You can mimic my stance to about 50-60% proficiency. But shooting doesn’t need smarts. Being a bit dumber helps. Take recoil control: you always try to predict and calculate the bullet’s trajectory."

"But a dumbass like me," Liu Bi suddenly drew his pistol, firing ten shots in a rapid burst, "when I pull the trigger, I just slam all my strength into the grip, pounding the recoil into the ground like I’m tamping earth."

Cheng Ye stared at the target, his pupils shrinking. The ten shots had a spread of no more than five centimeters, nearly all perfect 10s, Olympic-level in the modern world.

He’d mimicked Liu Bi’s stance and technique, so why was the gap so huge?

"Know why Old Ding never assigns big jobs to Harlin’s clever crew?"

Liu Bi lowered his voice. "Two months ago, in the old city, three young guys got their heads cracked open by an acid-spitting tentacle monster. It didn’t follow their so-called experience-based attack patterns."

Then he yanked open his tactical vest, revealing a gruesome claw mark on his chest. "This scar? I took it for your dad. We both calculated the infected couldn’t hear gunfire, but that bastard had sharp ears. Tell me, are the wasteland’s rules made for formula-crunching brains?"

"What do I do?"

"Forget technique. Don’t think. Let your muscles memorize the feel of slamming recoil, not your brain calculating parabolas. That’s a million times more useful."

Easy to say, hard to do.

Cheng Ye nodded dully, unsure if he could ever master Liu Bi’s method.

But one thing was clear: until he completed his external duty, survived, and overcame his fear of the wasteland, he couldn’t afford to abandon reason and become a brainless brute.

His only asset was his mind.

"Shooting’s done. Next, close-quarters combat."

The sound of strikes rang out. Cheng Ye attacked, Liu Bi defended.

Fueled by inner fire, Cheng Ye threw punches and kicks like a madman, but he couldn’t even break through Liu Bi’s defense.

If not for fear of hurting his pride, Cheng Ye suspected Liu Bi could block all his attacks with one hand.

Damn brute, damn wasteland!

Soon, Cheng Ye was panting, exhausted. Only then did Liu Bi call a stop.

"Progress. I can feel your anger. That’s right, let anger drive your body in combat, not useless reason!"

"See me as your enemy. Bite me, take me down. That’s how you improve!"

The "everything can be brute-forced" theory.

Cheng Ye didn’t argue. He’d long realized the genetic divide. Modern humans excelled at thinking and socializing.

Wastelanders excelled at fighting and "intimate exchanges" with infected.

Take interrogating survivors in the isolation zone: Cheng Ye mastered it in two months, while Liu Bi, after over a decade, was still barely proficient.

His predecessor’s combat genes were pitifully weak, a total failure compared to Liu Bi. To bridge the genetic gap, there was only effort, and more effort!

"Training’s over. Rest well tonight. I’ll cover your morning shift tomorrow."

Casual leave was another perk of the iron rice bowl.

Liu Bi lived further east at the Fertilizer Plant Workers’ Compound. They parted at the bus stop, taking opposite buses.

As the street scenery sped by outside the window, Cheng Ye felt the nameless fire in his chest still burning, growing fiercer!

The helplessness of two hands failing against one fueled his constant fear: what if an infected had Liu Bi’s combat prowess?

Surrender?

No, I want to live. I want to go home. I can’t die namelessly in this wasteland!

Get stronger.

I want to get stronger!

I must get stronger!

Countless voices screamed in Cheng Ye’s heart, urging him to grip the pendant around his neck tightly.

After tonight, the Collector would activate.

Useless trinket, if you brought me to this wasteland, do something useful!