Chapter 193 - 192: Embers

Chapter 193: Chapter 192: Embers

"Wu, how’s that thing I asked you to take care of?"

Lin Fan, carrying three single-edged swords, returned to the clinic entrance with Xu Qian, who was carrying two spears.

Wu Haitao, Chu Zhaotian, and the others were still busy in the clearing in front of the clinic.

Three buses had been prepped and were ready to go. Since they were electric, there would be no way to recharge them on the road. They had to be reinforced with the lightest materials possible to avoid the extra weight cutting into their range—it would be a real disaster if they ran out of juice before reaching the quarantine zone.

This pop-up workshop had also started taking on modifications for the SUVs.

Aesthetics didn’t matter. They sanded down the A, B, and C pillars, cut wire mesh to size, and welded it onto the sides, reinforcing the structure with rebar.

The front bumper was then reinforced with steel bars or plates, and scrap tires collected from downstairs were mounted on the front to protect the engine bay and radiator during low-speed collisions.

Right then, they were sealing off the rear window of a Tank 300 and adding a layer of wire mesh.

The air was thick with the acrid smell of cut metal and paint fumes...

Wu Haitao was completely absorbed in his welding and didn’t hear Lin Fan. But Chu Zhaotian, who was helping nearby, noticed the two of them. He put down his work and walked over.

"Brother Lin, the sheaths are done. I put them in the clinic..."

This was the project Lin Fan had asked Wu Haitao to work on, back when he had gone to borrow the loudspeaker from Liu Bin’s group.

His own single-handed sword could be stowed in his inventory, but Su Qing and the others didn’t have that option. Since they couldn’t just carry the swords around all the time, it was best to have some kind of rig to wear them on their belts.

As he spoke, Chu Zhaotian jogged into the clinic and came out carrying three white sheaths. One of them already had a sword in it.

"Here you go."

Chu Zhaotian said, walking back out.

"Give it a try, Brother Lin. Brother Wu and his team figured it out. They’re made from PVC pipe..."

Lin Fan took the sheathed sword, drew the blade, and examined it closely.

"We fitted the right size PVC pipe over the blade, softened it with a heat gun, pressed it flat, and then used a small grinding wheel to trim the excess. After that, we just lined it with a layer of leather, and that was that."

Wu Haitao set down his welding torch, noticed Lin Fan’s expression, and said proudly:

"We haven’t sealed the ends yet, in case they weren’t a perfect fit. You did say that each sword was a little different, after all..."

Even though the sword’s profile was very familiar, the material felt like something made with powder metallurgy and then finished with a CNC machine. Factoring in its density, he couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

So Wu Haitao didn’t ask any questions, and just continued explaining how they made the sheaths.

"Try them out first. I know how to seal the ends. I can handle that part..."

Chu Zhaotian placed the remaining sheaths on the ground and pointed to the opening at the top of the PVC pipe.

"Plus, we still need to wrap a layer of tape or cloth around the outside to make a loop. That way, you can hang it directly on a belt."

"Alright... not bad."

Lin Fan tested them one by one. The sword he had left them as a template was the one he had made for himself—the thickest and widest of the bunch. As long as it fit, the others would be fine.

After testing each one, he handed them back to Chu Zhaotian to finish the job, also giving him a few rolls of system-provided adhesive tape. Lin Fan had tested it before; the tape was incredibly strong and reliable.

"You’re a master craftsman, Brother Wu..."

Lin Fan watched the men working like a well-oiled assembly line, clapped his hands together, and turned to Wu Haitao.

"Where’s Wang Yuanhua? And Liu Bin?"

He glanced around, curious when he didn’t see the conspicuous big man.

"Ah... Brother Wang’s group drove out for another materials run. We know what we’re doing this time—we’re only grabbing the lighter stuff."

Wu Haitao said with a polite smile. He lifted his welding mask, scanned the area, and pointed to a brightly lit spot not far off.

"Brother Liu should be over there."

The sky had darkened. A few outdoor lamps and the bright headlights of several vehicles illuminated half the alley. People milled about, constantly moving supplies between the various SUVs and trucks.

Liu Bin and a few others were still directing traffic, ensuring each vehicle was stocked with a share of survival supplies.

That way, if anyone fell behind or got separated for some reason, the two or three people in that vehicle would have enough to survive on their own.

Smoke still rose from the small soup kitchen set up at the supermarket entrance. In addition to the stoves used to cook dinner for the hundred-odd survivors, several more pots of various sizes had been set out.

A haphazard pile of solid wood furniture sat off to the side, where a few men were chopping it up for fuel with axes.

On closer inspection, you could see figures in tactical vests mingling with the crowd. They weren’t armed; they just stood by the roadside chatting with the survivors, and some even pitched in to help move things.

’I wonder if they’re all getting along so well because most of the soldiers are from civilian backgrounds, or if it’s because of an order from Ye Qingzhou.’

Still, this kind of integration is definitely more effective at putting people at ease than a dozen pep talks. Lin Fan refused to believe Ye Qingzhou hadn’t orchestrated it.

Some of the survivors in the crowd had noticeably lower health bars than others; they were likely the civilians from Ye Qingzhou’s bus convoy. They were now mixed in with everyone else. The able-bodied helped with the work, while the weaker ones pulled up stools to sit by the wall, relaxing and enjoying a rare moment of peace.

No one was causing trouble, no one was stealing, and no one was selling their bodies—or anything else—for a few bites of food.

There was only the sound of laughter and the buzz of feverish activity, holding the apocalypse at bay just beyond the street corner.

Lin Fan looked past the lights, his gaze drifting into the distance.

He remembered a cluster of office buildings in that direction, where the subway station was. A dozen or so towers, each twenty or thirty stories high.

Every day around this time, they used to light up with colorful LEDs, sometimes displaying phrases like "Build a Harmonious Society" or patterns of gaudy, oversized flowers.

But now, there was only darkness.

The buildings were gray-black monoliths, their countless, densely packed windows all dark. Not a single light was on.

’This tiny pocket of light,’ he thought, ’compared to the vast, boundless darkness, is like a campfire I lit myself, its meager heat warming those of us lucky—or unlucky—enough to have survived.’

But Lin Fan knew this campfire was a fleeting flame. The black tide ten kilometers away, the tens of millions of zombies within a hundred-kilometer radius—they could surge forward at any moment and plunge them all into an endless abyss.

"Boss, there’s still fifty or sixty pounds of meat in the fridge. Sister Qing wants to know what you want to do with it. There’s no way we can eat it all..."

Chu Zhaozhao popped out of the clinic behind him and sidled up to Lin Fan.

Lin Fan shook himself out of his thoughts and looked at Chu Zhaozhao in mock surprise.

"Fifty pounds... and you’re telling me you can’t finish it?"

"I... RUMBLE—"

Chu Zhaozhao started to retort but was cut off by her own growling stomach.

"Sigh..."

She had been hungry upstairs, but the thought of having hot pot for dinner had made her lose her appetite for instant noodles or anything else.

She had just brushed the dirt off her clothes and flopped onto the sofa, waiting to be fed.

Now she was starving. If Su Qing hadn’t sent her to report to Lin Fan, she would have happily stayed on the sofa, drooling over the meat until dinner was served.

"Alright, go on back up. Grab a snack or something. No one’s going to help you if you pass out from hunger at the dinner table."

"My... my brother will."

Chu Zhaozhao retorted weakly.

"No, I won’t."

Chu Zhaotian, who had overheard them from a short distance away, muttered quietly.

Lin Fan chuckled at that. He was about to tease them some more when his brow suddenly furrowed.

"Hm?"

He spotted a familiar figure in the distant light—someone dressed in sharp combat fatigues...

’Ye Qingzhou? What is she doing here?’