The elderly man with graying hair puffed on his pipe and said, “That’s enough. We’re staying here.”
“I’m already old. I’m thirty-nine. Do you think I’m like that old fool Tang Yuan, still full of energy?” He pointed at his own chest. “My grandson is about to be born.”
In the wasteland, fifty was already considered old age.
They had no idea what the average lifespan in the wasteland was. All they knew was that their parents, as well as nearly everyone around them, had died when they were around thirty or forty.
Radiation, monsters, hunger, and all sorts of other problems meant that children in the wasteland generally got married and started families by the age of thirteen or fourteen.
Regardless of gender, a child who survived was a good child. The more children you had who survived, the greater the chance that someone would feed you when you grew old.
Only those who had once lived in major survivor cities or shelters thought that forty or fifty was merely middle age—the prime years for working hard and building a life.
That Li Shangshan had spent so much time hanging around Tang Yuan that he had apparently forgotten who he was. His two daughters were already so grown, yet he still kept them around and supported them without minding that they were eating his food for free.
When Ling Zhao first saw Bei You, she thought she was still very young. In reality, Bei You was already considered an independent adult in the wasteland.
“We can’t afford to go through all that trouble anymore.” The old man pounded his shoulder. “Now that the mayor has left, we can use whatever the others left behind. We can gather wild vegetables in autumn, do some hunting, and preserve the game for winter. We’ve got a good chance of surviving the winter.”
The person trying to persuade him fell silent.
After a moment, he said, “But we can’t use that wood directly…”
“You actually believe that?” The old man curled his lip. “The mayor was the one who said it before. Who knows whether it was even true?”
Every year, the mayor left behind several trusted followers before leaving Lingfeng Town herself. Her timing was always incredibly precise. Usually, only a few days after she disappeared from sight, heavy snow would block the roads.
There were few monsters in winter and even fewer prey animals. The Raiders also stayed hidden through the winter. Every year, they waited through the long winter days.
They waited for the food and firewood the mayor would send.
And they waited for spring.
Many nearby survivor camps envied them because they had a mayor with connections to Shelter No. 199.
The young man continued trying to persuade them earnestly. “If we all leave, there really won’t be anyone left here who can stop the Raiders!”
At first, he hadn’t wanted to leave either.
But this town…
The attraction of this town was simply too great.
From the moment those who remained behind could no longer protect it, it would become a juicy target in the eyes of every survivor settlement nearby.
“I have a gun.”
The old man took another puff of his pipe, then knocked the pipe against the ground, producing a series of sharp taps.
“I’ve still got plenty of strength left. You go.”
As though comforting himself, he repeated, “The Raiders won’t come.”
He looked toward the forest in the distance.
That was where his path to survival lay. As long as he could hunt a little more game, he would surely be able to survive this winter.
As for spring…
They could worry about spring when it arrived.
“Bang!”
Faintly, he seemed to hear a gunshot coming from the forest.
The sound was extremely distant. After thinking about it carefully, he decided it must have been one of the town’s hunters firing while hunting.
So he smiled at his own overly sensitive nerves.
…
A trace of gunpowder smoke drifted through the forest before quickly dispersing.
The Raider lowered his gun.
Before him lay a mangled corpse. The shot just now could even be considered a mercy.
Two more bodies in similar condition lay beside it.
“This is what happens to anyone who dares to run away!”
The Raider used a bloodstained finger to wipe bits of flesh from his cheek, making his appearance even more ferocious.
This was a Raider force of more than fifty people.
Half of them were gaunt and emaciated, their faces sallow and withered. They were almost like a different species from the other half, who looked healthy and well-fed.
The man who had spoken was exceptionally large. His arms were thicker than an ordinary person’s thighs, and his entire body was built like a bear—massive and powerful. His upper body was covered by only several roughly sewn pieces of fur, which could vaguely be recognized as sections of crude bear hide.
The original owner of that fur had been a prey animal he had once torn apart with his bare hands.
Bear Hunter considered himself an extremely far-sighted man.
Every member of the Bloodfang Clan was named after the first prey they had successfully captured.
His name was Bear.
That was why he was the leader.
The Bloodfang Clan had not previously operated in this region. Their former territory had been seized by a larger and stronger Raider clan from the neighboring province. They had lost more than eighty percent of their slaves, all of their children, and more than half of their able-bodied adults.
They had not lost any elderly people because Raiders did not have elderly people.
Now, before winter arrived, they urgently needed to find a place where they could rest and rebuild their strength.
Shelter No. 47 was carrying out a frenzied purge.
According to those who had witnessed it, it was truly insane. Besides the ordinary shelter bases, many Raider tribes had also been destroyed. In the end, it seemed that some extraordinary figure had emerged among them.
Bear Hunter no longer had any specific information about that person.
But he did not consider himself to be fleeing.
As he liked to say, he was merely searching for a new kingdom.
[Several sentences appear to be missing or corrupted in the original text here.]
He would investigate the nearby survivor settlements, defeat them, conquer them, seize their food, and take their savings.
Then, to establish his authority, he would kill half of them first. If there were still people who refused to submit, he would kill half of the remainder.
He would keep killing until there was no one left to kill.
After that, the survivors would naturally become obedient.
Ordinary survivors usually submitted to him after the first round of killing, promising to hand over everything they owned.
Afterward, every season, he could return and harvest their resources.
Now, the slave he had sent to scout ahead had informed him about a former town.
For some reason, most of its population had left. No weapons capable of protecting the settlement had been spotted—no heavy machine guns, no submachine guns, and certainly no gun turrets.
There were only a few elderly people whose lives were nearing their end.
Bear Hunter walked toward his slaves.
He puffed out his chest, making his already enormous body appear even larger, and stared at the slaves before him, who were cowering like quails.
“Slaves!”
“The time has come for you to prove that you’re still useful!”
He pointed ahead, toward the depths of the forest hidden from view.
“Our scouts tell me that somewhere ahead, near where you can probably see the lake, there’s a town that can be used as a settlement!”
“Whether you sneak inside or observe from the surrounding area, find out everything about its defenses and layout! Find out how many people are there, and then tell me where the most valuable things are!”
“Anyone who can accomplish that will earn the qualification to join us.”
He grinned viciously.
“I’ll arrange a trial for you!”
“Anyone who fails will be dealt with this winter.”
As he spoke, the baby skulls strung across his chest clattered against one another.
“Along with your families.”
“Remember—your families are waiting here for you.”
Bear Hunter never kept a slave alone.
A slave with nothing to worry about would always try to escape.
But once they had something to care about, no matter how far away they were sent, they would always return.
Previously, an Exile had wanted to join them.
What a joke.
If they weren’t short on cannon fodder, they wouldn’t have spared a glance for such inferior mongrels.
Bear Hunter had casually told that Exile to provide him with something of value.
And that was how he had obtained this information.
A town whose mayor had left, with an intact building still standing inside it…
This was practically a heaven-sent opportunity prepared specifically for him.
“Now, take the slaves over there. Don’t let them escape.”
He casually pointed toward a squad beside him.
The squad he selected consisted of only five or six people. They swung their weapons against the nearby trees, clearing out a large open area.
“Once they return, we’ll set out.”
…
Qiaomai was the old man who refused to leave his home.
He had lived in Lingfeng Town for a very long time—so long that he had married here, raised children, and now even his children had children of their own.
Life in Lingfeng Town was hard.
Having savings was actually dangerous.
Those who could no longer survive might choose to kill people in the town who publicly talked about having a habit of saving money. After that, the killers could no longer remain in the town, and naturally, they would go outside and become Raiders.
Lingfeng Town was simply too poor. Anyone who had ever traveled outside would never choose Lingfeng Town as a target.
Qiaomai had no idea why Lingfeng Town was so poor.
But that didn’t stop him from thinking it was a good place.
Qiaomai rarely thought deeply.
Thinking required energy and sugar, and long-term malnutrition had already deprived many people of the ability to think.
But he still had absolute confidence in his own experience.
How could Raiders possibly come here?
All the young people had left. Only a few old people remained here. There was no wealth to be squeezed out, and there wasn’t even anyone suitable to be made into slaves.
Qiaomai took stock of Lingfeng Town’s supplies. He felt that after the mayor had left, the few old people could live off these supplies for a very, very long time. As long as they could still move and hunt, they could also use their stored goods to trade for necessities whenever traveling merchants came by.
The Raiders definitely wouldn’t be interested. They were only interested in making big scores.
But he had forgotten that land itself was a form of wealth.
And because he had never truly dealt with merchants, he didn’t know that once the cost of traveling to an area exceeded the profit it could provide, traveling merchants would simply remove that location from their routes.
Soon, merchants would stop coming as well.
It was still early morning, and Qiaomai decided to gather some things and make breakfast first.
Whether anyone came or not, he still had to eat.
He took out half a sack of worm-infested rye and picked out the plump, white grain worms one by one. After carefully pinching off each worm’s head, the white larvae were stained black by the dirt between his fingers.
He placed the worms to one side.
He would add them in later.
That would make them meat.
Then he grabbed another small handful of rye. Since there wasn’t enough water, he didn’t wash it. He scraped a little soot from the bottom of the pot to use as a substitute for salt, then added some shredded tree bark. It would help keep him full and increase the volume of the meal.
When he had water, he would add it to the mixture and indulge a little by boiling it into a porridge.
When there was no water, he would simply place a stone slab over the fire and cook it into flatbread.
At that point, the fat from the worms would burst and sizzle from the heat, releasing a fragrance of roasted protein.
Knowing how to prepare a filling and nutritious meal was an essential skill for every wastelander.
Today, Qiaomai chose to make flatbread.
He finished making it and was just about to eat when he heard movement outside the door.
“Who’s there?”
He braced himself against his knees and stood up, feeling that his old legs—stiff from the cold—were becoming increasingly difficult to control.
Qiaomai walked to the door and discovered that a group of traveling merchants had arrived.
“Hey, we’re merchants passing through…”
The merchant smiled amiably.
“Mm, slave merchants. Do you happen to have any need to buy slaves?”
Author’s Note:
Starting tomorrow, updates will return to 6,000 characters per day. Since I have to go out tomorrow, one update will be posted at 12 noon, and the second will be posted at 11 p.m.