Chapter 402

Suzy thought about it and realized he had a point. If both of them left and someone noticed the empty surroundings, they might get bad ideas and try to force their way in or break the door open. If the vehicle’s secrets were exposed, it would be an absolute nightmare.

“Right, I completely forgot about that,” Suzy scratched her head.

Mark suddenly let out a laugh. “It’s fine. You go ahead, and I’ll stay behind to watch the vehicle. Besides, I haven’t gotten enough sleep yet and plan to rest a bit more—my waist injury hasn’t fully healed anyway.”

Seeing how serious he was, Suzy didn’t stand on ceremony. “Then it’s settled –– you to keep an eye on the car. Thanks.”

Mark offered an understanding smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll guard it well.”

Just as they finished breakfast, Jenny came looking for Suzy. Coming out of nowhere, she knocked on the RV’s window.

Suzy threw her trash into the bin and turned to Mark. “I’m heading off then.” Remembering something, she pulled out a walkie-talkie and handed it to him. “Contact me anytime if anything comes up.”

“Oh, alright. Stay safe out there.” Holding the walkie-talkie, Mark looked a little dazed.

Suzy hopped off the vehicle, pulled the door shut behind her, and turned to face Jenny.

“How did you find me?” Suzy asked. “This parking lot is huge, and I didn’t tell you which space I was in.”

Jenny tilted her head, a hint of mystery in her smile. “I have my ways. Don’t underestimate the time I’ve spent in P City Base—I know people everywhere.”

“Fair enough, you’re impressive,” Suzy didn’t press further.

Jenny patted her on the shoulder. “Come on, I’ll take you around P City Base. Let’s start with the most important places.”

The two walked side by side out of the parking lot.

Passing through the iron mesh gate of the parking area, they turned onto the main road. The ground here was paved with concrete and much smoother than the parking lot. Though cracked and patched in places, it was far more comfortable to walk on.

The buildings lining both sides of the main road were much denser than what Suzy had seen from a distance yesterday. Off-white walls occasionally displayed house numbers painted in red, neat and clear, looking as though they were regularly maintained.

There were also significantly more people on the street than near the parking lot. Someone rode past them on a bicycle, a few cloth-covered bags resting in the basket, their contents hidden from view. A few others pushed flatbed carts loaded with empty wooden crates, the worn edges suggesting they had been used for countless trips.

Jenny led the way at an easy pace, occasionally turning her head to point out the buildings along the road.

“Over there is the Resource Exchange Point. You can use the credits on your wristband to buy food and supplies. It’s cheaper than the black market, but stock is limited, so it depends on your luck.”

Suzy looked in the direction she was pointing—a low, single-story house where a small line of seven or eight people waited quietly, holding cloth bags or empty crates.

Jenny guided her down a wider street. After walking for about five or six minutes, they stopped in front of a two-story building.

This building looked newer than the surrounding structures, coated in light gray paint, with a dark blue iron sign hanging above the doorway displaying four bold white letters:

Mission Hall

A steady stream of people came and went through the doors. Some looked relaxed, others wore heavy frowns, while a few stood by the entrance repeatedly reading a slip of paper, appearing hesitant about whether to go inside.

Jenny pushed open the door and stepped aside for Suzy to enter first.

The interior of the hall was far roomier than it looked from the outside. The high ceiling exposed a skeleton of metal beams, from which several rows of fluorescent lights hung, casting a bright white glow that illuminated the entire space.

Hanging on the wall directly opposite was a massive electronic screen divided into several sections, rolling with lines of text and numbers.

The top section was labeled “Emergency Missions” in striking red text, followed by three or four lines of brief descriptions.

The middle section was for “Daily Missions,” featuring a much longer list that scrolled upward at a moderate pace, just slow enough for people to read clearly.

The bottom section displayed “Bounty Missions” in a font larger than the other two, marked with corresponding credit rewards ranging from dozens to over a thousand.

Several long tables were arranged across the hall, each staffed by someone wearing a matching dark blue vest. In front of them sat logbooks and small signs reading “Accept Mission” or “Submit Mission.”

Queues had formed at every window—not overly long, but with a continuous flow of people.

Suzy stood near the entrance for a moment, her eyes fixed on the electronic screen.

Jenny stood beside her with her hands in her pockets, speaking casually:

“This is one of the core hubs of P City Base—the Mission Hall. If you want to survive in the base, you either need your own supplies or you come here to take on missions and earn credits.”

“The few credits you paid for parking yesterday were just a drop in the bucket. Moving forward, everything—food, water, gear—will cost credits. The Mission Hall is where you make those credits.”

Suzy scanned the screen again, her eyes catching a daily mission that read: East Zone Supply Transport, 3 Hours, 15 Credits.

She pulled her gaze back and looked at Jenny. “Are missions easy to get?”

Jenny shrugged. “Depends. Simple missions give fewer credits, while high-reward missions come with great difficulty. But with your skills…” She gave Suzy a meaningful look. “…it shouldn’t be hard.”

Suzy didn’t reply, simply looking back up at the scrolling entries on the screen.

Jenny also stared at the list for a while, clearly searching for a mission that suited her, though she didn’t spot anything desirable at the moment.

When Suzy remained silent for a while, Jenny took the initiative to speak up, “Do you want to apply for a squad registration right now?”

Suzy looked back, repeating the phrase, “Squad registration?”

“Yeah. If you want to take on missions, you need to form your own squad. You can submit the application right now,” Jenny said.

“Can I still apply even if it’s just me right now?” Suzy asked. She recalled Jenny mentioning that a squad required at least two people—could she really apply on her own?

“Of course you can. Our base is pretty flexible,” Jenny smiled. “You only need one person to create a squad. When you actually take on a mission, your teammates can just come over to register with you then.”

“That’s surprisingly user-friendly,” Suzy remarked.

“So, do you want to register one?” Jenny asked enthusiastically.

“Does it require extra credits? I don’t have many on me right now,” Suzy said.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Creating a squad doesn’t cost a single credit—it’s completely free,” Jenny reassured her.

“Alright, let’s set one up then,” Suzy agreed.

Before entering the base, Suzy had already decided that operating under the guise of taking on missions would offer her far more freedom than basic residency. Since creating a squad was free and could be processed immediately, doing it now made complete sense.

“Over this way,” Jenny gestured.