Chapter 70: That Car Component Is Truly Useless—Better Off with a Hazmat Suit

Click-clack, click-clack.

Lin Mu's expression froze. Was he really supposed to make his own bullets? But... there was nothing on this workbench about crafting ammo for modular weapons. Surely there wasn’t an extra blueprint hiding somewhere?

He twitched his mouth and brought up the control panel.

“Hey, panel buddy, don’t tell me there’s a separate blueprint just for ammo for this weapon module?”

[Congratulations, you got it right.]

“...”

Lin Mu stared at the text, speechless. What was there to congratulate? But glancing at the people behind him and the two vehicles, he figured it wasn’t a big problem.

His mind drifted to those convoys—surely they had even more resources on hand. But perhaps not this time; it had been a struggle for him to find supplies in this place, let alone anyone else.

...

By eight in the evening, the last batch of supply crates had been collected. Lin Mu checked the time, called the two chubby guys into the car, then stored away both vehicles. That wrapped up today’s tasks.

After dinner, it was past nine when Lin Mu opened the regional channel. It was time to get a sense of the situation.

[Zone 62]—233,000.

Lin Mu raised his brows. How many areas had been combined here? Ten? Maybe twenty? The more people, the better for business—he’d have more customers for whatever he sold.

“So after all this, this zone is a merger of all districts in Fengjing City? Even so, isn’t that population rather low?”

“Low or not, I don’t know. All I do know is I gathered thirty crates today alone.”

“Don’t get me started. Burned through a ton of gasoline and got nothing for it.”

“By the way, what’s a vehicle module?”

“...”

At the mention of vehicle modules, inspiration struck Lin Mu. Of course, these people had no idea what vehicle modules were. After all, that feature only unlocked when a vehicle reached Level 7. Right now, the best anyone had was Level 6, and that was being generous. Honestly, having a Level 5 was impressive enough.

That gave him a real opportunity to obtain modules through the trading center. The more he pondered it, the more possible it seemed. The question was how to go about it without drawing attention.

He weighed the resources he held, thought for a moment, and opened the trading center.

“Sometimes, taking a loss is a blessing. If you’re not willing to risk, you’ll never catch the wolf.”

[Antidote x1]: exchange for ten junk items or any blueprint x1
[500g pork]: exchange for fifty junk items or any blueprint x2
[250g refined salt]: exchange for one hundred junk items or any blueprint x3
[Hazmat suit]: exchange for three premium blueprints

Lin Mu listed his surplus resources for trade. Some would inevitably be swapped for junk, which meant a small loss, but nothing major. As for surplus blueprints, he could always sell them off again, or recycle them if worst came to worst. He just wasn’t sure what recycling those things would yield.

But that wasn’t enough.

Lin Mu returned to the regional channel.

“That car module is really useless—its ammo isn’t compatible with anything else. It’s not even as good as my shotgun. Ended up swapping it for a hazmat suit in the end—what a steal.”

“I have to say, this hazmat suit is a real game-changer. In the fog, I don’t feel a thing.”

Lin Mu nodded in satisfaction at his own overly convincing post. In a crowd of over two hundred thousand, there’d always be a few gullible ones. People say that only the clever survive, but if that were true, why would so many highly educated folks get scammed? Besides, this wasn’t even a scam—his goods were right there, and if someone wanted to trade, that was their own choice.

He closed the panel and stretched. Glancing at the pitch-black world outside, he shook his head. “The first week should be fine. If there’s trouble, it’ll come next week.”

It was calm. Far too calm. Quieter even than the first time the global mist descended.

The next day, Lin Mu watched the outside, waiting for the people upstairs to come down. He wanted to see if this week brought any real danger.

A little after eight, the group made their way down. Lin Mu turned to face them.

“I’m always fair. Now that we need someone to go out, it’s your turn, Gu Wanqing.”

She had expected this day and stood up without a word.

Seeing her calm demeanor, Lin Mu handed her a set of armor and a weapon.

“Put this on. 001, chain her up when she’s ready. Don’t worry—if you come back alive, I’ll grant you one wish, as long as I think it’s reasonable.”

If you want the horse to run, you have to feed it some grass.

Gu Wanqing’s mouth twitched. A wish “he thinks is reasonable”?

What if none of them are?

She took a deep breath and nodded. “Understood.”

The others exchanged glances, not knowing what Lin Mu was up to, and stayed silent in place.

A few minutes later, Gu Wanqing came down, suited up. After getting out of the car, 001 fastened a chain around her waist, the other end secured to the gatherer.

“I’ll keep the gatherer following you. If you run into danger, smash this monitor.”

Gu Wanqing nodded, feeling oddly reassured by the weight of the chain around her waist. Step by step, she advanced, growing more tense as she neared the mist. Her grip on her sword tightened from one hand to both, her eyes sharpening with vigilance.

Inside the vehicle, everyone held their breath. Entering the mist without protection! Was she not courting death?

Outside, Gu Wanqing had reached the edge of the fog. One step and she’d be inside. No one knew what the mist would do—would she be poisoned by breathing, or poisoned by touch? She was the test subject now.

“You’re going to make it,” she told herself, drawing a deep breath and stepping forward with closed eyes.

She paused. No discomfort.

She opened her eyes, astonished. Around her, there was no fog—just a clear space about two meters wide.

“This mist... it’s harmless?”

She kept walking. The fog parted on its own, always leaving a two-meter buffer around her.

Inside the car, Lin Mu stared at the monitor in frustration. All he could see was white—nothing else. Surveillance was useless in these conditions.

He glanced toward the spot where Gu Wanqing had vanished. Whether she survived was entirely up to her now.

At first, he could guide the gatherer to follow her, but once she entered, it lost all tracking ability.

Lin Mu stroked his chin. “I wonder if she realizes—if she dies, that’s one less mouth and fewer supplies needed.”

Jiang Ying looked anxiously outside. Gu Wanqing’s situation was much more dangerous than her own. Wang Changjun was sweating; he’d finally seen through Lin Mu—this man really saw them all as tools.

Ten minutes later, a figure emerged from the mist, unharmed.

But Lin Mu’s eyes were still filled with caution. The incident with Zhao Mingwei was still fresh in his mind.