94: Chapter 94 Returning to the Exchange

Zhang Zhengguo shook his head. "It's neither; it's not any organization."

"Then who is it?"

Du Yaohua frowned. "Aside from those major factions, I can't think of any power that could make you suffer a setback."

"It's not a power."

Zhang Zhengguo shook his head. "The culprit is just a young man."

"A young man?"

Du Yaohua almost thought he had misheard; he stood up abruptly, hands pressing against the tabletop.

"You're telling me that an entire elite squad I sent out was decimated by a young man? Zhang Zhengguo, are you joking with me!"

"No."

Zhang Zhengguo smiled bitterly. "That young man is extraordinary. In the Villa where he was hiding, he set up a large number of powerful homemade explosives."

"Homemade explosives?" Du Yaohua was stunned.

"Yes."

Zhang Zhengguo recalled the scene at that time. "We didn't expect there to be landmines, thinking the opponent at most had a rifle, so we walked straight into a minefield, and the brothers suffered heavy casualties."

"In the end, considering that continuing to attack would only increase unnecessary casualties, I had no choice but to order a retreat, return to regroup, and make further plans."

Du Yaohua slowly sat back in his chair, his face so gloomy it could drip water.

A young man, relying on homemade explosives, actually managed to make his meticulously trained special forces squad return in defeat.

This sounds like a fantasy.

If it weren't for the fact that he couldn't leave the Shelter for the time being, he would definitely go there in person to take off the culprit's head to mourn his son.

This young man must be hiding secrets he doesn't know about.

But he couldn't go in person right now.

The power struggle within the Shelter was like an undercurrent; he was currently at a critical stage of absorbing the energy of the mysterious object. As long as he succeeded, his strength would surely rise to the next level.

By then, he would have the ability to replace the current director and truly stand above ten thousand people.

By then, a young man hiding in a safe house would be no different from an ant in his eyes.

...

On the other side of the city, Song Yang and Liu Dahai had arrived at the Exchange once again.

Liu Dahai carried a bulging bag on his back, filled with spoils of war.

As they walked inside the Villa, countless eyes instantly focused on them.

The battle in the estate was too loud; the explosions echoed across half the city, attracting countless onlookers.

When they saw the fully armed special forces squad finally retreat, countless onlookers were dumbfounded.

They had assumed that since Song Yang had provoked the high-level officials of the Shelter this time, he was sure to die.

To their surprise, he actually won.

The special forces squad under Du Yaohua was one of the strongest armed forces after the apocalypse, yet they had actually suffered a loss.

This news spread like wildfire through the Exchange, giving everyone a new perception of Song Yang.

Every step Song Yang took, the crowd would automatically step aside, clearing a path for him.

Naturally, some among them wanted to claim the bounty offered by Du Yaohua, but making a move here was clearly not a wise choice.

The rules of the Exchange were strict, prohibiting private fighting; violators would face severe punishment.

Moreover, after this incident, no one dared to underestimate Song Yang's strength.

A young man who could make a special forces squad suffer a setback—who knew what other trump cards he had?

Liu Dahai followed behind Song Yang, feeling those gazes around him, and felt a bit uneasy.

Although he was a retired soldier and had seen many situations, this was the first time he had been stared at by so many eyes.

He subconsciously tightened the backpack on his back; what was inside was all good stuff.

Song Yang walked to a relatively empty corner inside the Exchange and signaled for Liu Dahai to take off the large bag on his back.

Liu Dahai complied and placed the bulging package on the ground.

The crowd, who had previously only been watching from afar or whispering, swarmed over like sharks smelling blood.

Everyone wanted to see with their own eyes what kind of good stuff this young man, who had single-handedly taken down the Shelter's special forces squad, had managed to get from the battle.

Under the gaze of dozens of people, Song Yang untied the ropes of the package.

"Hiss—"

The sound of gasps rose and fell.

The first thing that came into view were tactical combat helmets stained with dirt and dark red blood.

Although their owners had perished and the helmets themselves were covered in the marks of battle, the bulletproof material was still full of attraction.

Following that were relatively neatly folded combat uniforms and military boots.

Like the helmets, these clothes had not been spared; damage and stains were inevitable, but the extraordinary fabric was far superior to the ordinary clothing circulating on the market.

Besides these, there were also special daggers, compressed biscuits, and other small items in the package.

The weapons, ammunition, and even precision equipment like night-vision goggles that everyone had expected did not appear at all.

Obviously, Song Yang did not intend to sell those things that could pose a threat to himself.

Even so, the items before them were enough to make most of the people present extremely excited.

"Is this a bulletproof helmet produced by The Authorities?"

A man with a thick beard reached out, seemingly wanting to touch the helmets.

"Nonsense, with this texture and workmanship, who else could make it besides the arsenal?"

A thin, sharp-featured man next to him immediately chimed in, his eyes fixed on a relatively intact combat uniform.

"Boss Song, I want this combat uniform! How much?"

"Military boots! Are there any better military boots? My pair of shoes should have been replaced long ago!"

A middle-aged man, whose nose was red from the cold, squeezed to the front, rubbing his hands together and puffing out white mist, said eagerly:

"Brother, ever since the sky went completely dark, the temperature outside has been getting lower day by day."

"Those few ragged clothes of mine are no different from paper; I have to curl up into a ball when sleeping at night."

"Your kind of military combat uniforms and boots look thick and must be warm, good quality, and durable—ten thousand times better than the rags we have on! Name your price; if it's reasonable, I'll take it!"

His words resonated with many people.

When the apocalypse first started, everyone was busy grabbing food and didn't notice that the temperature outside was getting lower and lower.

After a while, the weather in July was colder than winter!

Although it is only July now, it is colder than winter!

Staying warm had become a major problem.

Without the sun, the Earth's temperature was dropping rapidly; one day, the ground would be covered by thick snow and ice, becoming a glacial continent.

Song Yang signaled for Liu Dahai to start selling the goods, while he turned and walked towards other stalls.

He noticed that the stall on the edge of the Exchange that used to peddle drugs was now empty.

Someone nearby whispered that the stall owner was audacious enough to use crushed wall plaster to pass off as addictive drugs. After being discovered, he was dragged outside the Exchange and beaten to death with clubs.

The body was still lying in a garbage dump not far away, serving as a warning to all fraudsters.

Soon, his footsteps stopped in front of a stall located in the center.

What caught his attention was a woman, tall in stature, but so thin she was almost unrecognizable. The clothes on her body were less of a covering and more like a pile of rags barely hanging on.

Song Yang's pupils constricted.

He had an impression of this woman.

It was precisely the female celebrity, Yang Mi, who had been auctioned off like an animal on the second floor of the Exchange a month ago.