Apocalyptic Disaster: I Hoard Billions in Supplies and Kill the Saint

84: Chapter 84 The Spark Beneath the Frozen SoilAfter stepping through that private alloy door, Ye Nanxing realized that the term ”private passage” was far from as simple as she had imagined.

The passage was a stepped, sunken structure. The walls were lined with anti-energy steel plates three feet thick, with low-temperature cooling pipe networks faintly visible winding through the interlayer, resembling the blood vessels of an ice-bound heart.

When footsteps landed, the ground wasn’t ordinary metal sheeting, but a flexible, shock-absorbing material that almost completely swallowed the sound of every step.

There were no lights.

Only after Chu Yunting passed each node checkpoint did the light rails underfoot seem to awaken and slowly illuminate, with a faint blue halo spreading from his feet to the high walls ahead, blooming like a dream into a ”corridor of light.”

The silence here was not natural; it was a ”vacuum oppression” deliberately manufactured.

”This place...” Ye Nanxing said in a low voice, ”doesn’t look like it was built later.”

”It wasn’t,” Chu Yunting answered without turning his head.

”This is a structure left over from the early experimental stage of the Zero Point System. Back then, this wasn’t a thermal clothing factory, but the core project for a central shelter.” He spoke calmly, as if merely stating common history.

”How do you know such details?” Ye Nanxing’s tone carried a hint of investigation.

Chu Yunting finally stopped and turned to look at her.

”I briefly participated in the foundation construction of the ’White Core Project,’ acting as a secondary member responsible for peripheral site liaison,” he said. ”I left later, but I remembered the route, and my clearance has been retained.”

Ye Nanxing looked at him without speaking.

She knew that when Chu Yunting said ”left,” it was never a true ”withdrawal.”

He was more like a ”spare piece” that could return to the chessboard at any moment—he wouldn’t say much, but he was never ignorant.

At the end of the passage was a wide sliding door with a number printed on the casing, though it had long been blurred by time.

[R-Core-019]

The door slid open slowly.

A vast scene opened up before them.

This was an oval-shaped transparent dome area, completely wrapped in low-temperature gas on the outside, but inside the dome, the lights were as bright as day.

Rows of humanoid display racks stood in the space, each holding clothing samples with different numbers. A robotic arm occasionally swept over a piece, emitting a ”beep” test sound.

Ye Nanxing’s footsteps paused, and her eyes flashed.

Chu Yunting didn’t say much, just stood silently by her side, his gaze lingering for a moment on a display cabinet in the deepest row.

That was a set of clothing in a mix of silver-gray and dark gold, numbered [ZERO-X9]. There was no information plate around it, and the chamber had no activation halo; it looked like an unused sample.

He looked at it without speaking.

Ye Nanxing wouldn’t know that his clearance card had been revoked two years ago, but the one in his hand was one he had stolen—back then, he was not the Chu Yunting he was now.

”This set...” he muttered in his heart, leaving the second half of the sentence unspoken:

”—only she can wear it.”

”Sorry, you cannot stay in the observation area for long.”

A calm female voice interrupted their brief silence.

Ye Nanxing looked up and saw a woman in a white high-necked uniform standing at the exit, her expression upright, her eyes cold: ”Your visit has been recorded. Commander Lin is waiting for you.”

Chu Yunting nodded and led the way out.

After walking out of the observation dome, the passage opened up.

As the door opened, a wave of warm air rushed over them.

Ye Nanxing narrowed her eyes; the scene before her almost gave her the illusion of ”spacetime displacement.”

This place was like two different worlds from the cold storage passage she had just walked through.

Outside the dome, frozen snow danced, and corpses and bloodstains were still frozen and weathered in the city, but here, underground—

It was vibrant with light and color, with fragrance floating in the air.

High-resolution circular screen displays were neatly lined up on both sides of the passage, playing images of the city before the extreme cold: sunshine, grass, children running, the melody light and cheerful, making one mistakenly feel as if they had returned to the time ”before civilization collapsed.”

The floor was made of full mirror material, and footsteps produced crisp echoes. The ground seemed to breathe, and the temperature was kept constant at around 26 degrees, dry and comfortable.

Multiple hidden fragrance diffusers were embedded in the walls, releasing a scent as faint as an orchid, which could even cover up the lingering smell of the wild and gun oil on Ye Nanxing.

She frowned subconsciously, her gaze slowly sweeping over the ”crowd” in the passage.

—Or rather, this wasn’t a ”crowd,” but more like a performance.

Evening gowns, capes, animal skins, silk, furs... The men were mostly in crisp suits, the women in vibrant long dresses, with gold, silver, and jade hanging from their chests, pearls and jewels hanging from their earlobes. Some people were even pacing leisurely on the mirror floor in 10-centimeter high heels, as if they were in a hotel lobby.

And she, wearing a tactical jacket and thermal pants, with combat boots on her feet, a dagger hanging behind her, and worn-out gloves, looked like a wild mercenary who had stumbled into a banquet hall.

Some gazes swept toward her, and some people lowered their voices and snickered.

Ye Nanxing was expressionless, her gaze only darting between each screen and lingering in every blind spot of the surveillance.

She wasn’t shocked, just nauseated.

—Is this the so-called ”bastion of civilization in the apocalypse”?

—Taking the lives of the bottom-tier survivors to maintain the glitz and glamour of the upper class?

Beside her, Chu Yunting’s expression was as usual, without a ripple.

At this moment, someone walked over from the front.

A middle-aged man of medium build, about fifty years old, with graying hair combed impeccably, walked toward them.

Lin Muran—Commander of the Zero Point Workshop.

He wore a custom military-green trench coat with a low-key silver-gray energy fabric lining, and a heavy gold ring on his hand, which made a dull metallic clinking sound when he walked.

Behind him followed three women, all dressed revealingly, with gorgeous makeup that hadn’t been messed up at all by the weather changes.

One of them—even bare-legged, with a very short skirt, stepping on high heels, smiling and whispering into his ear, pointing at Chu Yunting’s side.

Lin Muran raised his head, and when his eyes fell on Chu Yunting, the corners of his mouth curled up.

”Yo.”

He smiled slowly and walked a few steps closer.

”You brat really didn’t die.”

Chu Yunting raised an eyebrow, his expression lazy.

”Your tone sounds like you were waiting for me to die completely.”

”The last time you unauthorizedly used ’Legacy Clearance,’ you almost blew up the R19 side. The old guys were all gnashing their teeth in hatred.”

Lin Muran laughed and cursed.

”I originally thought you had frozen to death outside long ago. I didn’t expect you to be able to crawl back.”

”After all, one has to cherish their life.”

Chu Yunting replied easily.

”Aren’t you living more comfortably than anyone else?”

Lin Muran laughed out loud, and his gaze slowly fell on Ye Nanxing.

He scanned her up and down, a hint of inquiry in his eyes, his tone not heavy, but carrying a hint of undisguised scrutiny:

”This one... haven’t seen her before.”

”Someone new you brought?”

Ye Nanxing stood in place, not speaking proactively, nor showing any signs of unfamiliarity or nervousness.

She just looked at Lin Muran calmly and said faintly:

”Ye Nanxing.”

Chu Yunting looked sideways at Ye Nanxing, his tone flat.

”Met on the way, traveling together... a friend.”

Lin Muran let out an ”hmm,” nodded noncommittally, the smile at the corners of his mouth deepening, as if he were trying to figure out a dark piece that had suddenly appeared on the chessboard.

”Fine.”

He said, ”Welcome to our... last bastion of civilization.”

”Since you’re here, take a walk around.”

After speaking, he waved his hand, his posture natural and composed, and walked forward on his own.

Chu Yunting glanced at Ye Nanxing and followed.

Between the three of them, there was no extra small talk, but it was sharper and more filled with undercurrents than small talk.