Chapter 31: Night Riot
A safe supply location had been found, and quite a few of the missing had returned.
By all rights, this should have been good news. Yet lying in the RV, couldn't fall asleep no matter what he did.
For some reason, he couldn't shake a nagging unease.
He pulled open the drawer. There was a bottle of sleeping pills inside, but in the end, he closed the drawer again.
Not sleeping well would only leave him in low spirits, but sleeping too soundly would be the real danger for him right now.
He took a bottle of mineral water from a nearby box and gulped down two mouthfuls.
The taste naturally couldn't compare with the good water he used to drink at several hundred a bottle, but conditions weren't what they used to be, and he had to adapt.
He shook his head, then spread the paper atlas open on the table.
His gaze traveled north from , all the way to , where a bright red circle had been drawn. That was the goal of this journey.
After witnessing a 's in , he understood that if he didn't do something, he was simply waiting to die.
The apocalypse from the stories had truly arrived. And while he hadn't awakened any , these monsters were only going to grow more terrifying.
That night, he had been on the verge of despair, cursing this world and this disaster the entire time.
He was a genuine scion of a wealthy family, born to enjoy the world. But this disaster had taken everything away.
Yet after he finished cursing, a memory from the past came back to him.
It was a class reunion held a month before the disaster broke out—a rare gathering where he wasn't the lead, only a supporting role.
The reason was simple: the lead of that banquet was a young master so exalted that even could only look up to him.
Just how formidable was that young master?
Let's put it this way: the assets 's father had built over a lifetime were equivalent to that man's pocket money.
And after became this man's "brother," even his own father came to think more highly of him.
He could no longer remember the details of the gathering clearly. He only remembered that this young master, who always loved to have fun, had spent the entire day uncharacteristically drowning his sorrows in alcohol.
He had even cold-shouldered the class beauties and campus beauties who had dressed up so prettily just for him.
In the end, had eagerly asked whether he was in some kind of trouble and needed help.
At that moment, that man's gaze became something would never forget for the rest of his life—a gaze as if he were looking at pigs and dogs.
To be precise, it was the superiority and pity born of watching creatures that were about to die without even knowing it.
"Solve it? You? Forget it! All of us! We're all going to die!"
The atmosphere froze solid on the spot.
" , what do you mean by that? Don't scare us!"
"Exactly what I said!" The man seized 's shoulder in a death grip. "You all think I'm rich and powerful, don't you?"
"Bullshit! The real big shots—you aren't even worthy of a single meeting with them."
"Their whole families don't need to lift a finger. However many slots they want, they get. But I can't even get my hands on one ticket."
Just then, his phone suddenly rang—at exactly the right moment, perfectly timed.
He glanced at it, and his hazy, drunken eyes sobered in an instant, as if he had seen something truly terrifying.
Then he looked at the dazed crowd and suddenly burst out laughing. "Haha! Scared you all, didn't I? Haha! Did I look convincing?"
Only then did the atmosphere come alive again, and everyone laughed, saying that it had looked very convincing.
But always felt it hadn't been as simple as a prank. Yet since the man clearly didn't want to say, naturally couldn't ask.
The next day.
That man booked a plane ticket to the north. Before he left, and the others went to see him off.
His mood had calmed considerably by then. He only said, "Goodbye. I'm going north to try my luck. If you can't make it in the future, you can go try your luck too."
This had originally been a meaningless little episode, but after the disaster broke out, no matter how thought about it, something felt wrong.
Perhaps people always needed a spiritual pillar, and the one he had chosen was that north.
Perhaps he had simply misunderstood, and all of it was nothing but his own delusion.
But it was also possible that those true big shots really had received word in advance, that they truly were prepared.
No matter what, he was going north.
Just then, a gunshot outside the window cut off his recollections.
What happened?
He immediately went on high alert, grabbed the AK hanging on the wall, yanked open the door, and leaped out.
"Who fired?!" he roared the moment he was out the door.
But no one answered him.
Only a bizarrely shaped robot stood before him, its dark, gaping muzzle aimed straight between his eyes.
***
took a little while to adapt to this new, low and wide field of vision.
At this moment, his view faced the crowd reveling around the bonfire.
But even so-called revelry had its tiers.
Closest to the fire, surrounding and the modified off-road vehicle, were more than thirty sturdy men.
They wore relatively well-preserved jackets or leather coats. Some had women in their arms and cigarettes dangling from their mouths, laughing and talking loudly without restraint.
Food held almost no value in their hands. They tore apart big chunks of meat and casually tossed leftover cans aside.
These were presumably 's core group, the "rulers" of the convoy.
Besides those sitting in a circle, there were also some men holding guns outside and watching the vehicles. Every so often, someone would go relieve the guard.
One ring farther out were a dozen or so thugs, likewise armed with steel pipes and the like.
They were the "vehicle captains" had chosen to manage everyone and keep watch, responsible for issuing daily commands and handling day-to-day management.
The supplies allotted to them were still sufficient, but their eyes constantly strayed toward the inner circle, filled with longing and fear.
On the other side, scattered around campfires, nearly a hundred people were spread out.
They were the true body of this convoy—the ordinary survivors who had been "taken in."
Their ages ranged from old folks in their fifties to kids in their teens. Most were male, but all of them were weak.
Clearly, what they ate each day was nothing much.
Even with the new supplies brought in, the only things handed to them were a few compressed biscuits and a bottle of water.
"The road ahead for the convoy is still long. For the convoy to keep going, we have to save food."
was in charge of handing things out, and he had a gun.
Those who received food naturally didn't dare say a word. They only nodded again and again. "Yes, yes, yes! What says is right!"
"But how come you guys get to eat so much?" A boy who looked fifteen or sixteen glared at him.
said nothing. He simply swung a kick that sent the boy sprawling to the ground.
Then he crouched down, grabbed the boy by the hair, and hauled him up.
"Because we have to guarantee the convoy's safety, don't we? Of course we have to eat a little better."
"Or are we supposed to rely on you cowardly weaklings with no strength to protect the convoy?"
"Pah!" After spitting in the boy's face, the man called stood up and kicked the boy again.
"Anyone else have objections? Go ahead and speak. We're all one family. As long as your suggestions are good and fair, I'll humbly accept them."
Naturally, no one spoke.
"No objections?" turned around and stopped handing out food. "Very well. Looks like none of you care about the convoy's future."
"I'm really heartbroken. Since you can't contribute anything, then don't eat."
With that, picked up the bag of biscuits and walked off.
As he walked, he added, "If you want someone to blame, blame that short-lived little bastard for having no conscience."
Watching the man's retreating back, the people sitting in the shadows had eyes full of rage, but in the end, no one dared to do anything.
Not everyone had the courage to face a gun muzzle, especially when a life of starving one day and barely eating the next made people all too quick to sink into numbness.
Just then, , a few cans tucked against his chest, slipped silently over from the large bonfire.
Following the plan, he walked straight toward the crowd in the shadows.
"Brothers, have some meat and calm your nerves." He handed over the cans and lowered his voice. "Do you really think following these dogs will give you a way to live?"
Those people took the food, initially overcome with gratitude as they wolfed it down.
But at those words, their movements stopped short.
"Brother Hai, keep your voice down..." One of them looked toward the inner circle in fear.
"What's there to be afraid of?" A flicker of confidence passed through 's eyes. "Do you want to live like this your whole lives? We got lucky today and found supplies."
"What about tomorrow? The day after?"
"What exactly do they take us for? Don't you know in your own hearts?"
He pressed closer, his voice dropping even lower, like a devil's whisper. "Want to know where I really got this batch of supplies?"
No one spoke, but their hurried breaths had already given him the answer.
And here in the shadows, many survivors who had come back that day, just like , were quietly moving among the crowd, connecting people.
They gave meat cans to the boy who had been beaten, handed bread to the sick woman, and passed biscuits to the trembling old folks.
The light of longing rekindled in the depths of people's eyes.
One. Two. Three.
The people in the shadows rose one after another in silence and crept without a sound toward the armed leaders guarding the vehicles.
***
On a small hillside near the logistics park.
The night was black as ink.
A hovered in the night sky like a ghost, the optical lens beneath its belly taking in the entire logistics park at a glance.
In the shadow of the hillside, two robots, and Sentinel-3, stood silently, their cold metal shells blending into the night.
For them, darkness was in fact an excellent disguise.
Inside the logistics park, the bonfires gradually died down.
and his core subordinates, dead drunk, had each returned to their RVs or tents.
The outer ring of thugs also gathered in twos and threes, ready to rest.
The twelve men on watch, hugging their guns, leaned with utter boredom against the few most important trucks—the lifeline of the convoy.
And the nearly one hundred turned survivors organized by and the others had already closed in silently on the dozen or more trucks and buses at the rear of the convoy.
Of course, having them fight the armed men directly was neither appropriate nor really possible.
So the most crucial step would be carried out by .
Inside 's tactical sight, twelve humanoid silhouettes radiating infrared heat were locked on one by one, and firing trajectories from head to heart were instantly calculated and generated.
Phut!
A barely audible soft sound, like a champagne cork popping.
From 's barrel, 12.7mm armor-piercing rounds shot out one after another.
At almost the same moment, the sentry nearest to it, who was mid-yawn, had his head struck as if by an invisible giant hammer. The entire back of his head, skull and all, blew apart in an instant, splattering red and white matter.
He didn't even have time to make a single sound before his body went limp and toppled over.
Phut! Phut! Phut!
A continuous string of muffled pops, nearly undetectable in the night wind.
One sentry after another, with no warning whatsoever, took a round between the eyes or had his heart punched through, their lives ended without a sound.
The entire process took less than three seconds.
"Now!"
, who had long been coiled and ready, gave a low roar, and the crowd surged forward like tigers descending the mountain!
They snatched up the fallen sentries' guns at once, swiftly forming a crude defensive line, dark muzzles aimed at the thugs who were still frozen in place.
"What's going on?!"
"Gunfire!"
Someone finally reacted and grabbed their weapon, but the moment they charged out of their tents, what greeted them was a vengeful rain of bullets.
Rat-a-tat-tat—!
An entire swath of those thugs was mowed down in an instant, flesh and blood flying everywhere.
"Damn it! Mutiny! These animals have mutinied!"
scrambled out of a Jeep on all fours. He had just raised his pistol when a bullet precisely blew off the top of his skull.
The door of 's RV was kicked open with a crash.
Clutching an AK, he charged out roaring, just in time to see his trusted men falling one by one into pools of blood.
"Who fired?!"
He roared, trying to cow the scene with his authority.
However, what answered him was not the fearful gazes of his subordinates from days past.
Instead, it was a pitch-black, ferociously built war machine that strode out of the chaotic battlefield with steady steps, ignoring the stray bullets and the screaming around it, and came to a stop right in front of him.
Its enormous muzzle slowly rose, locking precisely onto the space between his eyes.
A cold, synthesized electronic voice sounded through the speaker on the robot's chest, clearly reaching everyone's ears:
[ , hello!]
The fury on 's face froze in an instant, turning into utter shock and bewilderment.
"What are you?"
But the only answer he received was a gunshot.
***
The next day, early morning.
A cloud of dust rose before the massive alloy gate of the .
A huge convoy of twenty assorted vehicles drove up slowly and finally stopped a hundred meters from the gate.
Doors opened, and more than a hundred survivors got out one after another. Looking at the colossal nuclear power station before them, their eyes were full of awe, unease, and anticipation for a new life.
At the very front of the convoy, , , , and the others looked ahead with excited expressions.
In front of the station, , , , and the others had been waiting for some time.
stepped forward, her voice firm and powerful:
"Good morning, everyone! Welcome to the ."