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

169: Chapter 169 Special Glass Factory OutpostA sharp-eyed young man rushed forward first, pushing aside rags and broken bricks, only to find, to his surprise:

Three unopened boxes of self-heating spicy hot pot; one tomato flavor; one mushroom soup flavor; one bottle of original meat sauce flavor; and four bottles of room-temperature purified water.

Everything was intact, the packaging was clean, and there was even a blank piece of paper attached.

The four of them were stunned for a moment.

”This... did the people in that RV leave this?”

”It has to be... who else could it be besides them?”

”This isn’t a coincidence; at this time and in this direction, it’s impossible for it to have just happened to drop by the side of the road we’re taking.”

A glimmer appeared in the eyes of the young man who spoke: ”Do you think... they were afraid we’d catch up, so they left this here?”

The oldest man gave a bitter smile, knelt down, and with trembling hands, tore open a box of hot pot: ”Afraid of what? If we could actually catch up to people like that, we wouldn’t be starving.”

Even though he said that, his eyes turned red.

But, just as everyone was feeling moved, one of them muttered:

”At the end of the day, they’re in a climate-controlled RV, eating hot pot with the AC on. If they really wanted to help us, couldn’t they have just opened the trunk for us?”

As soon as he finished speaking, the surroundings fell silent.

The oldest man raised his head, his eyes carrying a hint of coldness:

”If they don’t give us anything, that’s their prerogative.”

”If they’re willing to give you a sip of water, that’s kindness.”

”You can’t even save your own life, yet you want them to share their home with you?”

”It’s not that they’re stingy; it’s that we’ve reached this point, and we’re no longer in a position to be picky.”

Another young man lowered his head to drink water, remaining silent, but his expression became complex.

Seeming both grateful and ashamed.

Inside the vehicle, Ye Nanxing leaned back against her seat, closing her eyes to rest.

No one mentioned what she had just done.

No one asked her why she had to ”leave it secretly” instead of bestowing charity openly.

She didn’t say either.

But Zhao Wei glanced at her silently and suddenly smiled.

Zhang Tianjin twirled a toothpick and clicked his tongue softly: ”Who says hot pot doesn’t have killing power? Those few boxes of yours will probably burn in their hearts all night.”

Chu Yunting didn’t respond, just stared quietly at the darkness outside the window.

At eleven o’clock in the dead of night, the wind was still scorching, but the air was finally free of the metallic smell left by the sun’s harsh exposure.

The convoy stopped at the edge of a gravel area; about a kilometer ahead, a dark shadow loomed in the night.

Zhou Cheng looked at the map and confirmed it repeatedly:

”This is it—the old industrial zone of Huangsha Town, formerly the ’Dingxin Special Glass Factory’.”

”Specialty glass, solar reflective layers, heat-resistant coatings, explosion-proof protective surfaces... the raw materials for these factories became useless once the Apocalypse arrived, but as long as the finished goods warehouse is still there, this trip is worth it.”

Zhao Wei rested his gun on his shoulder and wiped away sweat: ”Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go?”

Zhou Cheng rolled his eyes at Zhao Wei, put on his protective gear, and crouched on the ground, quickly deploying four small sensor balls.

”Initiating environmental scan.”

The four sensor balls emitted a low-frequency ”beep” and began scanning the entire area with red light.

A few seconds later, the data in front of him began to refresh:

[Total factory area: 23,000 square meters]

[Building integrity score: 62%]

[High-temperature interference index: 23%]

[Target structures: Warehouse 3, Warehouse 5, and Warehouse 7 have a relatively high core preservation rate]

[Micro-heat source reaction: Living thermal energy x 4 (Location: Rear of Warehouse 3)]

Just like at the abandoned port, Zhou Cheng simply used numbers for labeling.

Zhou Cheng reported softly: ”The heat source signal is stable; it should be survivors.”

”The location of the core warehouse is clear, it’s well-preserved, and we can salvage it.”

Ye Nanxing nodded, her eyes sharp as blades:

”I, Zhang Tianjin, and you, head to Warehouse 12.”

”Chu Yunting, Zhao Wei, and Sun Hao, guard the rear.”

”Tonight’s target—Warehouse 12.”

She added in a low voice:

”Take the glass, don’t take trouble.”

”Two-hour time window; clear it out and retreat.”

Zhang Tianjin licked his chapped lips, suppressing a smile:

”Understood, Sister Ye.”

”Pack it up and take it away, no emotional attachments.”

The three of them passed through broken walls and ruins, sneaking into the abandoned factory building, the ground beneath their feet covered in charred glass shards.

The air was thick with the smell of carbonization and chemical residue, as if they were walking inside the stomach of a giant beast that had been burned through by the sun.

Zhang Tianjin frowned: ”This place... it looks like someone has been here?”

Zhou Cheng scanned the thermal imaging equipment and suddenly paused: ”... It’s not just looks.”

”There really is someone—right behind Warehouse 3.”

”There’s a body heat reaction, three... no, four.”

Ye Nanxing didn’t stop, instead pushing forward toward the target warehouse even faster.

”Don’t worry about it, get the goods first.”

”Saving lives along the way is fine, but we aren’t saviors.”

Pushing open the heavy iron door, a wave of heat rushed toward them—

But from deep within the warehouse, a faint cold breeze drifted out.

[Spatial Alert: A-grade heat-resistant specialty glass identified]

[Quantity: 223 boxes · Current integrity rate: 83%]

[Detected: Military-grade light-energy protective film x 12 rolls]

[Store?]

”Take it all.”

Before she finished speaking, the anchor point had already started working.

The glass boxes were ”swallowed” into the space one by one, like water flowing through a channel, clean and efficient.

Zhou Cheng muttered while watching the panel:

”This glass could cover the entire main roof of Tianlang Mountain Base...”

As the goods were almost cleared, Zhang Tianjin took the opportunity to glance into the distance and whispered:

”Those people are still there.”

Ye Nanxing was silent for a moment, walked to the warehouse exit, and looked up toward the ruins of Building 3 in the distance.

That group of people was still hiding in the shadows, motionless, without calling out.

Just like everyone in this world who dares not approach ”hope.”

She spoke slowly:

”There are still some spare energy bars and high-pressure purified water in the space.”

”Leave five days’ worth.”

”Enough for them to reach the government-established shelter.”

After speaking, she turned to look at Zhang Tianjin.

She saw that the latter had already straightened his body, his expression serious and quiet.

”Understood.”

”Whether they can survive—that’s up to them.”

”We are only responsible for not letting them starve to death here.”

His tone was calm, yet more convincing than any passionate declaration of justice.

Then he added softly:

”I’m increasingly glad that you were the one chosen back then.”

”Not someone else.”

Chu Yunting stood to the side, looking at Ye Nanxing’s back, his gaze deep.

He knew that every action this woman took was not kindness driven by emotion.

Everything she gave was a calculated decision to ensure ”survival.”

Rational, precise, yet still possessing a human touch.

This was precisely the biggest difference between her and the ”Apocalypse lunatics.”

Zhou Cheng pressed the record button, marked the ”support record” on the map, contacted the government early warning system using the lowest frequency signal, and marked the coordinates of that group of people.

This was his persistence as a communications officer.

Even if they didn’t survive in the end, there would still be data to leave a trace that they ”were once helped.”

Five minutes later.

Food and purified water were left in the shadows of the alley behind Building 3, with a note attached that read [Coordinates of the nearest government shelter].

The night wind blew by.

Ye Nanxing said softly:

”Let’s go.”

The car door closed.

Dust obscured the moon, and the convoy left quietly.