Chapter 218: Monopoly of the Apocalypse (Revised)

"Stop!"

On the platform, the crowd argued back and forth, disputing over this unprecedented value, even beginning to bid against each other.

Just as the argument heated up, Lin Xian directly spoke out to halt it.

Everyone fell silent at once.

Lin Xian stood in the center, his gaze sweeping across the crowd, and said loudly: "We have more stock than this—we still have plenty on the vehicle. There's no need to argue. We're all just trying to survive."

Lin Xian wasn't here to run an auction, and these people were ordinary survivors—he had no intention of squeezing them dry.

All these conditions came from his Mechanical Heart. He wasn't aiming for a one-time deal. Thinking of this, he began to realize that Kiki's idea was indeed ahead of its time—if the Wuxian Hao's reputation spread, perhaps it could one day become a centralized hub for weapons and resources, making it far easier for him to acquire whatever he needed and greatly securing his team's survival.

"Really?" Cao Hong glanced skeptically at the several weapon crates in front of Lin Xian, then scanned the vehicle behind him, his expression turning complicated.

The Wuxian Hao's presence was clearly absurdly powerful—its entire body was standard heavy armor, over a dozen carriages stretching hundreds of meters, several times larger than his Night Phantom. He instinctively wanted to boast, but quickly held back.

"What, you don't believe me?"

Lin Xian glanced at him, then turned to the middle-aged man: "You can take the vehicle-mounted machine cannon and that light machine gun—I have more than one set—but I need cans or biscuits in exchange."

"No problem!"

Cao Hong immediately declared generously, waving to a female subordinate beside him: "Quick, bring the goods to trade for the guns!"

Several female members of the Night Phantom team perked up immediately, rushing to open one of the storage carriages of the green train. As the doors swung open, neatly stacked survival supplies filled the interior. Lin Xian noticed dozens of canned goods inside, their packaging clearly military-grade.

He noticed this detail because the same packaging appeared on some cans in the middle-aged man's van earlier.

"How do you have military rations?" Lin Xian's gaze swept over them, and he asked directly.

"You mean these? We bought them from the Fulu Shou convoy." The hat-wearing middle-aged man, Liao Ming, replied bluntly: "Most survivors here trade with him—he has almost everything, mostly standard government survival supplies. It's just a bit more expensive than your prices."

"How much more?" Kiki's eyes lit up.

"Not bad—they have tons of supplies, almost everything, mostly official standard survival goods."

The fat man Cao Hong of the Night Phantom said sternly: "But weapons and ammunition are always priced high, so many people in the area heard your radio broadcast and came over to see if it was really this good a deal."

Liao Ming picked up an automatic rifle, cycled the bolt, inspected it, and nodded: "This gun's condition is solid. At first, I thought you were fishing or selling broken junk."

"Each gun can be inspected on-site," Lin Xian said. "Quality guaranteed. But stock is limited—food cans, biscuits, medicine first. If absolutely necessary, you can trade blood essence."

"No problem."

Lin Xian lowered his gaze slightly and said to Chen Sixuan: "Chen Laoshi, start exchanging according to what we just agreed."

"Mm." Chen Sixuan nodded and addressed the crowd: "If you want to buy guns, come to me—I'll register each one individually."

Dozens of people from various convoys surged forward, scrambling to trade supplies.

"Hey hey hey! I'm first—we're locals!" Fat Cao Hong acted unapologetically, gritting his teeth and shoving his men forward, afraid someone would cut ahead: "Quick, girls, get the best stuff first!"

"We want three sets of guns, and we need to know if this detector can be repaired," other survivors also rushed forward.

"We want two sets of guns, one shotgun, one light machine gun, and bullets…"

"What are your prices for Level 1 and Level 2 water purifiers?"

Besides food, various medicines and blood essence were also on offer. Lin Xian planned to clear out all these idle weapons at once—even several large convoys had set their sights on the light and heavy machine guns and the Roarer K23 electric rotary cannon in Da Lou's hands. He was ready to retrieve more stock from the vehicle; these heavy weapons could fetch plenty of supplies, though the only problem was the enormous ammunition demand.

As the crowd surged around, Chen Sixuan became instantly busy. Kiki, Shu Qin, Da Lou, Lu Chang, and Miao Lu all rushed to help move weapons and ammunition.

Vrrrr~

At that moment, a series of urgent engine roars shattered the trading atmosphere. Out of caution, everyone froze, turning wary eyes toward the rear.

Outside the platform, over a dozen camouflage-painted off-road vehicles and a single transport truck burst through the wire fence survivors had set up to block zombies, charging straight onto the platform.

Seeing this, everyone immediately retreated to their own vehicles.

Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh! Quickly, dozens of armed men stepped down from the vehicles, several of which had vehicle-mounted machine cannons mounted on their roofs.

Thud.

At that moment, two figures stepped down from the lead armored vehicle.

The leader was a lean man in a plaid shirt and deep red suit, wearing mirrored sunglasses, looking distinctly shady.

The moment he stepped out, he stretched his neck, pushed up his sunglasses, and strode toward Lin Xian with a cocky expression, his men following behind with weapons drawn, radiating menace.

"Hey hey hey!"

"You're the convoy that claimed on the radio that one gun equals one box of biscuits, right?"

The lean man pushed through the crowd of survivors trying to trade, scrutinizing Lin Xian with raised chin and an impatient tone.

"Yes." Lin Xian, sensing the man's hostile intent, immediately grew cold.

"So you're the boss of this convoy?" "I am."

"What do you want?" Kiki narrowed her eyes, crossed her arms, and stepped beside Lin Xian: "Want to buy something? Get in line at the back!"

Lin Xian's gaze swept over the convoy—its strength was formidable. Dozens of men each carried high-powered rifles, and the vehicles mounted machine cannons. Behind the flashy, shady-looking lean man stood a… woman.

Short crimson hair, sharp features, nearly 1. meters tall, her sun-kissed skin and defined muscle contours under a tight tank top radiated health and raw power. Had her chest not been tightly bound, most would have mistaken her for a man.

Most crucially, her right arm was a silver-black weapon-grade prosthetic—imposing and fearsome.

The most striking figure among them was clearly this woman, who looked like a mechanical Warhawk.

"Buy something?" the man sneered. "Kid, you know who I am?"

"No."

"They're the Fulu Shou convoy," Liao Ming, the middle-aged man who had just traded weapons with Lin Xian, spoke up: "We get most of our supplies from them."

Seeing this, Cao Hong of the Night Phantom lost his bluster. He signaled his men with a glance, and they began slipping back into the crowd, afraid of trouble.

Many other convoy members also wore complex expressions—they had all traded with Fulu Shou before. Seeing this scene, most guessed: Wuxian Hao's cheap weapons were clearly upsetting Fulu Shou.

!

Lin Xian and Chen Sixuan exchanged glances—damn, they'd run into a competitor.

"Oh? Where'd you come from? Ever heard of the Fulu Shou convoy? Do you know the rules? Do you know that setting prices like this ruins the post-apocalypse market? How many guns do you even have? How dare you advertise on the radio? You're destroying the honest, friendly, harmonious market environment—can you take responsibility for that?"

Lin Xian scanned the men behind the sunglasses, frowning: "Do survivors need your permission to trade with each other?"

"Hey!"

The sunglasses man raised his hand: "Survivors trading among themselves for mutual benefit is normal—even if you trade one gun for one biscuit, no one cares. But broadcasting on the radio that you have this and that, and advertising such low prices, implies you have massive stock. That's not ordinary trading—it breaks the rules. Understand?"

Chen Sixuan stepped forward, coldly: "That's unreasonable. Are we forced to sell at higher prices?"

The sunglasses man grew furious: "Are you really that stupid? Today you sell a Starfire 26 automatic tactical rifle with 120 rounds for one box of biscuits—how am I supposed to sell mine? Will my men even eat? Other survivor teams could normally get a full can of rations for the same gun, but now, thanks to you, they might get only half. Is this just your problem?"

Lin Xian placed a hand on Chen Sixuan's shoulder and looked ahead: "He means we're newcomers with limited stock. Private trades are fine, but advertising prices on the radio breaks market norms."

The sunglasses man looked at Lin Xian, nose in the air: "Exactly!"

"So what do you want? Threaten us?" Kiki stepped forward, annoyed.

Dozens of Wuxian Hao members instantly stopped what they were doing, forming a cold, armed line behind Lin Xian, waiting for his orders.

The survivors trying to trade backed away, their expressions complex. To them, buying from anyone was buying—but Lin Xian's prices were too tempting. From a profit standpoint, they supported Wuxian Hao. But they all knew Fulu Shou's strength. Many could only fume silently, retreating far away.

Meanwhile, the dozens of men behind the sunglasses man raised their weapons, and the vehicle-mounted machine cannons turned toward them, the sound of rounds being chambered filling the air.

The red-haired woman behind him remained silent, slowly clenching her fist. The independent servo system of her right prosthetic activated, the wrist joints emitting faint hissing sounds.

Electrical energy surged, blue sparks flickering across the knuckles of her fist.

"No! No! No! I'm a businessman, not a bandit!"

Seeing the tension rise, the sunglasses man sneered, clapped his hands, and—wham! his men opened the truck's rear doors, revealing a massive pile of supplies neatly stacked inside. The other survivor convoys stared, eyes wide, gasping in shock.

Generosity. Absolute generosity!

The sunglasses man clearly relished the attention. He smirked at Lin Xian: "Since you advertised this price, here—take all your guns, match your price, and I'll buy them all. Then get the hell out of here."

At these words, everyone on the Wuxian Hao side paled. This wasn't just disrespect—it was a blatant, public attempt at market monopoly, outrageously arrogant. The other survivor convoys' faces darkened.

Lin Xian almost laughed. He hadn't expected to meet a principled post-apocalypse merchant. He nodded: "Oh, I get it. You're here for bulk purchase. Fine."

"May I ask, what's your name, boss?"

"The convoy's name is my name. I'm Fulu Shou," the sunglasses man replied coolly.

"You're named Fu?" Sha Sha popped out from behind Lin Xian, astonished.

"Who cares if I'm happy or not!"

"No, I mean—do you really have the surname Fu? That's rare."

"I'm Fu—Fu as in 'Fu Hai' of Shan He, Lu as in 'walk,' Shou as in 'longevity,'" the sunglasses man snapped, feeling insulted.

"Shan He Fu Hai?"

"What's wrong with that?"

The red-haired woman beside him, unable to bear it, spoke in a low voice: "His surname is Hu—Hu as in 'mouth-moon.' Hu Lushou."

"Hulu Shou? What a weird name," Sha Sha muttered, frowning. Kiki, hearing it, immediately clapped a hand over her mouth, barely holding back a laugh.

Requesting monthly votes—deeply grateful.

(End of Chapter)