Chapter Seventy-Eight: A Difficult Problem

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West of the city, at Guo Yu’s home.

Today, Guo Yu didn’t go out—it was his day off.

“You’re drinking Tieguanyin now? You’re doing pretty well for yourself,” Fang Xia remarked, looking at the steaming cup of tea in his hand.

“Hehe, Brother Fang, I’ve reached the third tier. I’m a squad captain now,” Guo Yu boasted, as if presenting a treasure.

Guo Yu’s mother watched with a gentle smile. Her son had always been rather introverted, and when the apocalypse struck, if it hadn’t been for Fang Xia, she truly didn’t know what would have become of the two of them. Now, not only had they both survived, but her son had become much more cheerful. In their misfortune, this was a rare blessing. Both mother and son felt genuine gratitude toward Fang Xia.

“Third tier already? That’s fast,” Fang Xia praised, not just out of politeness. With over one hundred thousand people now under the faction in Dawn City, standing out among so many was no easy feat. To reach the third tier so quickly spoke volumes about Guo Yu’s strength—or rather, his abilities.

“Brother Fang, guess what extra skill I got when I advanced to the third tier?” Guo Yu said, face full of mystery.

[Hehe, Brother Fang will never guess. My Berserk ability is incredible—once I use it, all my stats double. I’m practically invincible.]
[All stats—attack, defense, speed, even stamina—they all double with no weaknesses.]

Fang Xia propped his chin on his hand and fell into thought. After a few minutes, Guo Yu couldn’t bear it any longer and was just about to reveal the answer.

“I bet your skill is really powerful, right? The kind that has no weaknesses—a full-spectrum enhancement?” Fang Xia ventured, with a tone that sounded uncertain but made Guo Yu stare in astonishment.

“A skill that strong must have a fitting name, right? Could it be… Berserk?”

Guo Yu’s eyes widened, and he gulped involuntarily, unable to believe it.

[Is Brother Fang a mind reader? How does he know everything?]

Fang Xia smiled mysteriously. Children were so easy to fool—this would only make him seem even more formidable in Guo Yu’s eyes.

No matter how much Guo Yu pressed him afterward, Fang Xia would only give one answer: “Just a guess.”

After their playful exchange, Fang Xia brought up the reason for his visit.

“By the way, I do have something I need your help with this time,” he said, his expression growing more serious.

Guo Yu immediately sat up straight. Finally, he had a chance to help Brother Fang—he’d been waiting for this day for a long time.

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Walking down the street, Fang Xia lit a cigarette, instantly drawing everyone’s attention.

Feeling the predatory stares around him, Fang Xia calmly took a warblade from his ring. Instantly, most of those gazes vanished. They were greedy, not foolish. Anyone with spatial equipment who dared to walk alone through the city was not to be trifled with.

…

By afternoon, the humans of Dawn City were gradually becoming accustomed to their new routines: fighting at night, scrambling for loot in the morning, and sleeping in the afternoon. Before the apocalypse, they’d worked the infamous 9-9-6 schedule, and now, not only did it persist, but their routines were even more upside down. No wonder one of the big shots before the apocalypse had said, “9-9-6 is a blessing.”

There was still a queue at the entrance to Fang Xia’s domain, though it was much shorter than in the morning.

“Hello, Brother Fang.”

“Hello, Captain.”

As Fang Xia returned, the young women along the way all greeted him as he passed.

Upstairs on the second floor, Fang Xia sensed a heavy mood in the air. Jing Yi’s face was tense with thought, and the other women sat quietly at the side, not daring to disturb her. Even her usually lively sister, Jing Ru, was keeping her distance for once.

“What’s wrong? Why so glum?” Fang Xia plopped down beside Jing Yi and took a sip of her hot tea.

“Brother Fang.” Jing Yi quickly called out, but there was a note of grievance in her voice.

“Come on, tell me what’s happened.” Fang Xia listened for a moment but heard nothing, so he concluded it must not concern him—likely the matter of selling cigarettes.

When he’d come in, Fang Xia had noticed there were fewer people around than earlier. He’d just assumed everyone had made their purchases in the morning.

“This morning, everything was going smoothly. But around noon, rumors started spreading in the city that the zombie crisis is about to end. And it wasn’t just one or two people—it was clearly a coordinated effort. Many chose to believe it.”

“The last zombie rain lasted seven days, and today’s the seventh day. They think seven days is the limit.”

Jing Yi didn’t finish, but Fang Xia already understood. Someone was jealous. And he didn’t need to guess who—it was definitely the Lone Wolf Syndicate, the ones forced to sell cigarettes in the first place.

Their group was large, and their cigarette consumption enormous, so their stockpile must have been insufficient. After two days of selling, with prices rising and their supply running out, they were getting desperate.

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But could the Lone Wolf’s brains really come up with something like this? In the previous life, the Lone Wolf Syndicate’s leaders were all the brawling type—none of them were much for schemes.

Seven days as the cycle for zombie rain—others might only be guessing, but Fang Xia knew it to be true. Yet, the unease gnawing at his heart made him doubt. This was exactly how it had happened seven days ago, before the second wave of zombie rain arrived.

“It’s nothing—just a bunch of clowns,” Fang Xia said, ruffling Jing Yi’s hair.

“In the afternoon, just close the sales point,” he instructed the little girl beside him. She immediately scampered downstairs on her short legs.

Before long, she hurried back.

“Brother Fang, it’s done. No one made a fuss—they just left. It seems most people believe the rumor that the zombies will be gone tomorrow.”

Jing Yi looked even more worried.

“Count up today’s total sales.”

That tally didn’t take long; they’d already been keeping records during sales.

“Brother Fang, as you ordered, the lower-grade cigarettes sold for six evolution crystals a carton. In fact, the low-grade ones sold better. From this morning until now, we’ve sold 6,721 cartons of low-grade cigarettes. The high-grade ones didn’t move much, only 211 cartons. Total income is 48,766 evolution crystals.”

Those buying high-grade cigarettes were mostly people who couldn’t scrape together even six evolution crystals and had to buy by the pack.

Not only had their initial investment of thirty thousand crystals been recouped, they’d made over ten thousand in profit. But no one was satisfied with this number. As for their own stock, not even half of what they’d collected in the first three days had been sold.

“Don’t worry. If the zombie rain really does stop tomorrow, I’ll go talk to Chen Gang and Bai Yi. I believe neither of them will let such a lucrative opportunity slip by.”

Even if the zombie rain stopped, without the big factions clearing the way, going out was still suicide. Did they think the streets were still filled with only first-tier zombies, as weak as decrepit old men by day? Second-tier zombies were now the norm, and there were plenty of third-tiers. Relying on scattered individuals was a death sentence.

As long as the three main factions stayed put, there was still money to be made in the cigarette business.

“Oh right, use those evolution crystals to help them upgrade. Make sure every squad has at least one third-tier fighter.”

…

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