Lin Hui stared at the message for a moment before typing his reply.
[Lin Hui]: "I have them, but nine rounds isn't enough. Antibiotics are a top-tier rarity."
In this apocalypse, not everyone had a fortress on wheels. For most, a single scratch leading to infection was a death sentence. Without antibiotics, you were just waiting for your body to give up.
[Su Qingqian]: "Fifteen rounds. That's my absolute limit!"
[Lin Hui]: "Not even close..."
After a tense back-and-forth, Lin Hui traded one bottle of antibiotics for 30 Axe-Pistol rounds.
As he weighed the heavy brass cylinders in his hand, a thought occurred to him: Where did she get so much specialized ammo? He sent another message.
[Lin Hui]: "Can I ask a question? Where did you get these? I'm willing to pay for the info."
Ten minutes of silence passed before she responded.
[Su Qingqian]: "I know where to find more. If you have another bottle of antibiotics, I'll tell you."
[Lin Hui]: "That was my last one."
He was lying, of course. He still had a backup bottle, but he was a regular human; if he got an infection, he needed a safety net. Who knew when he'd find more?
[Lin Hui]: "However, I'll give you 1 unit of Universal Fuel for the intel."
[Su Qingqian]: "10 units."
[Lin Hui]: "1 unit. Not a drop more. I have no way of knowing if your info is even real."
[Su Qingqian]: "You profiteering bastard!"
[Su Qingqian]: "Fine. But I'm warning you—it's dangerous. If you die, don't haunt me."
[Lin Hui]: "Fair enough."
[Su Qingqian]: "I found them at a defunct military factory. Coordinates: C996-87.9, 28.2."
A military factory?
Lin Hui's pulse quickened. Why hadn't she stayed there? What was the catch? He transferred the fuel and prodded for more details. It turned out the place was a massive zombie nest, home to a Tier 2 Zombie and over a hundred Tier 1s. She didn't explain how she escaped, but the danger was clear.
Lin Hui closed the chat and sank into thought.
Credibility: Is the intel a lie? If it's real, can his RV handle a Tier 2? He didn't even know their stats yet.
Competition: Has she sold this to the big guilds? If so, he might run into the elite "Batian Alliance" or "Iron-Blood" forces.
Human Nature: Is it a player-set trap? Monsters are dangerous, but they don't play mind games. Humans do.
Five minutes later, he made his choice. The coordinates were 300 kilometers away. He would head that way and scout. He needed that Aviation Armor Steel, and a military factory was the highest-probability source.
Before leaving, he posted one last ad on the channel:
[WANTED: Grenades, Mines, or any Explosives. Trading Fuel, Food, or Medicine.]
He needed more "Truth" to back up his arguments. Then, he slammed the gas. Destination: The Factory.
The Gas Station
After 200 kilometers, the scenery shifted. The endless wasteland began to give way to skeletal ruins. Fifty kilometers short of the factory, Lin Hui spotted a derelict gas station. The pumps were smashed, and the underground tank covers had been pried off long ago.
Screeech—
Lin Hui pulled the RV under the canopy. He didn't need fuel, but the high-speed drive had his nerves fried. He needed to stretch his legs and, more importantly, clean the "Meat-Grinder" spikes. They were currently matted with rotting chunks of zombie flesh and bone fragments. If he didn't wash them, the stench would eventually seep into the air intake and tank his Sanity.
"Cleaning the car is more work than killing the zombies," he grumbled, hopping out with a bucket and a brush.
As he scrubbed the black-red gore from the [Alloy Spiked Ram], the silence was broken by the sputtering cough of an engine. A rusty Wuling Hongguang van, belching black smoke, wobbled into the station.
The door creaked open, and a middle-aged, balding man stepped out. He wore a greasy gray jacket, his eyes sunken and shifting—the look of a man who spent his life calculating small-time schemes.
When his eyes landed on Lin Hui's black, fortress-like RV, they lit up with a fervor usually reserved for religious icons.
"Oh! A boss! A real boss!"
The man scurried over, rubbing his hands together with a sycophantic grin. "This car... tsk tsk, absolutely magnificent! It must weigh tons! Any zombie hitting this would just turn into paste!"
Lin Hui didn't stop scrubbing. He gave the man a sidelong glance and kept working. Seeing he wasn't being chased away, the balding man—Wang Gou—edged closer, his hand reaching out to touch the matte black armor.
"Don't."
Lin Hui's voice wasn't loud, but it carried a sub-zero chill. Wang Gou's hand froze in mid-air and snapped back to his side.
"Hehe, don't misunderstand, little brother! I just admire the craftsmanship! Say... Boss, do you need an extra hand? The name's Wang Gou. I was a chef for years! I can cook, and I know my way around a car—oil changes, tire repairs, you name it!"
He peered longingly at the half-open RV door. The hint of a climate-controlled interior and the faint scent of air freshener made his mouth water. Compared to his drafty, heater-less van, this RV was a palace.
"You know how to fix cars?" Lin Hui asked with a half-smile, pointing at his wheels. "Tell me, do you know what kind of tires these are?"
Wang Gou blinked, staring at the tires shimmering with that faint golden luster. "Uh... high-end run-flats?"
"Heh." Lin Hui tossed a bucket of dirty water onto the pavement. "You have zero value to me. Get lost."
Simple. Direct. Ruthless.
The grin on Wang Gou's face died. He hadn't expected the young man to be this cold. "Little brother... come on, more friends mean more paths..."
Click.
Lin Hui drew the Axe-Pistol. "I don't need friends. I need targets. Do you want to volunteer?"
Wang Gou shivered, a flicker of pure venom crossing his eyes. "Fine... fine! You're the man! I'll go!"
He scrambled back to his rusty van and floored it, fleeing the station in a cloud of black smoke. Lin Hui holstered his gun, unfazed. This was a daily occurrence on the road.
However, two kilometers away, Wang Gou pulled over behind a hill.
"Pah! Who does he think he is? Just because he got lucky with a good rig?" He slammed the steering wheel, his face twisted in hate. "Won't take me? Fine. If you want it all for yourself, I'll make sure you lose it all!"
He pulled up the [Regional Channel] and found a member of the [Evil Wolf Guild].
[Wang Gou]: "I have a report! I found a massive Fat Sheep!"
Seconds later, a reply came.
[Guo Yong]: "What kind of sheep?"
[Wang Gou]: "A black heavy-armored RV! Looks like Lv.3! Only one driver, and the cabin is overflowing with supplies! I saw it myself!"
[Wang Gou]: "Coordinates: C996-87.3, 28.9, near the gas station."
The other side was silent for a moment.
[Guo Yong]: "One man? Heavy RV? You sure?"
[Wang Gou]: "I swear it! The tires even glow! If you take him down, just give me a little taste of the loot. I want five... no, ten units of Universal Fuel!"
[Guo Yong]: "Deal. Keep eyes on him. If it's real, you get your ten units."
Watching the screen, Wang Gou let out a jagged, spiteful laugh. "Think you're better than me? I'll send you straight to Hell."
Lin Hui is currently finishing his "car wash," unaware that a pack of wolves is closing in. Does he finish up and head straight for the factory, or does his intuition tell him that a "rat" like Wang Gou wouldn't just give up?