Chapter 689: Gunshot in the Conference Room (Double Vote Tickets

Among the attendees, a middle-aged man, upon hearing Zhao Linfeng’s words, rolled his eyes and said, “Let’s all calm down for a moment—I’d like to say something. With everyone talking at once, we’ll never reach an agreement. I have a proposal, and I hope you’ll all listen.”

He paused after speaking, as was proper when seeking others’ opinions, and seeing no objections, continued, “Zhao Linfeng just mentioned that we may be the last survivors of Qincheng—I cannot agree with that.”

“But right now, the Nanhe International Entertainment Center truly gathers survivors from Changli, Funing, Beihe District, and parts of southern Qincheng. We face a grave crisis—we must unite as one, bind ourselves into a single rope, pool all our strength, and weather this hardship together. What do you all think?”

After speaking, the middle-aged man looked toward the others.

“Aren’t we already uniting as one? What exactly are you trying to say, Old Bai?”

A man with a cross-shaped scar on his face looked at Old Bai in confusion.

Another spoke up: “Exactly! If we didn’t believe Leader Zhao had the ability to lead us against the horde, why would we have traveled so far to come here?”

“You two still don’t understand my meaning.”

Bai Baoliang clenched his fists and said, “My point is, let’s seize this opportunity to form a larger survivors’ alliance—whether to deal with the current crisis or for future development, it brings nothing but benefits!”

As soon as he spoke, the conference room fell into silence.

Among the factions present, the smallest had seventy or eighty people; the largest, excluding Iron Wall Safe Camp, had over three hundred. Everyone gathered at Nanhe International Entertainment Center hoping only to band together for mutual survival—not to be swallowed up…

One man fiddled with a sea otter hat and dodged the issue: “Isn’t the Survivors’ Alliance that group up north in Qincheng? That Liao guy hasn’t replied to any messages lately—anyone know what’s going on up north?”

“Little Su, don’t change the subject!”

Bai Baoliang gave no one room to interject—he insisted on discussing merger.

“Ahem!”

Zhao Linfeng, the leader, cleared his throat and said, “Let me state my position: even if Old Bai hadn’t raised this, I planned to bring it up myself. Unity brings benefit; division brings harm—that’s my view. Had there been no grape ditch horde outbreak, I still intended to push for merging the survivor camps south of Qincheng.”

Hearing Zhao Linfeng say this, everyone straightened their postures.

Bai Baoliang was leader of Last Hope, whose camp numbered barely over a hundred—second smallest among the ten groups, with Xiong Xiong at the bottom with only seventy-some.

In contrast, Zhao Linfeng’s Iron Wall Safe Camp far surpassed Last Hope in both population and weaponry. The stark comparison: five Last Hope camps couldn’t match one Iron Wall Safe Camp…

With greater strength came greater voice. Everyone could ignore Bai Baoliang’s words—but they would take Zhao Linfeng seriously.

“Hmm… I speak bluntly—does Brother Zhao intend to use this chance to swallow up all our small camps?”

The only female leader spoke.

Liu Shanshan had her legs propped up on the conference table; her tight leather pants highlighted the powerful muscles in her thighs—not the slender, bony kind, but thick, muscular quadriceps and calves, imposing and dominant. Her arms were crossed over her chest, with a Western sword hanging at her waist.

For ordinary weapons, skill levels varied—but if someone carried unusual weapons, like Ju Wu Ying’s katana or Liu Shanshan’s Western sword, they were certainly highly proficient in that weapon type.

Zhao Linfeng smiled and waved his hand, shifting his posture. “Little Shan, you always joke. I’ve never said I’d swallow anyone. My idea is to break the current structure and form a larger organization.”

Bam! A man suddenly slammed the conference table, drawing everyone’s gaze; the men standing beside Zhao Linfeng instantly placed their hands on their weapons.

“Zhao Linfeng, let’s cut the crap—you just want to absorb us into Iron Wall Safe Camp! Why all this scheming? Old Bai, you’re even more ridiculous—you two must’ve planned this together! Acting like a damn opera, is that really funny?”

The furious man was Han Siyuan, leader of Revival Survivor Camp.

“Han Siyuan, there have been tensions between Iron Wall Safe Camp and your Revival—everyone knows that. But now we face a common enemy; you don’t need to lash out now. If you harbor any resentment, I’ll apologize to you—but don’t falsely accuse innocent people here!” Zhao Linfeng’s voice was deep and sincere; his straightforward words made the atmosphere even more ambiguous.

“Accuse the innocent? You know better than anyone whether I’m lying! I thought we’d all gathered here to unite against the horde—but now I see someone’s plotting to swallow us up. Fine, then Revival is out!”

Han Siyuan made to rise.

Bang! “Hey!”

“You fucking—”

Click. Click-click.

As Han Siyuan half-raised himself, gripping the table, the man behind him pulled a pistol and fired without hesitation into his skull. Instantly, nearly everyone armed in the room pointed their guns at the shooter.

The man wore a fisherman’s cap with a low brim, obscuring his eyes. He remained calm. As he killed Han Siyuan, he swung a punch straight into the chest of the man beside him, then, as the man doubled over, fired another bullet into his head.

In an instant, two men were down—clean, precise movements, as if rehearsed countless times in his mind; no one could execute such fluidity without practice. Crack…

After two clean shots, the man hurled the pistol to the floor. The marble surface was hard; the gun, fragile, shattered into seven or eight pieces.

After discarding the pistol, the man raised both hands high—his intent clear: his targets were only these two. Thud! Han Siyuan’s body slid off the table to the floor, never seeing who shot him. After landing, his body flipped over—his unblinking eyes, wide with disbelief, could no longer move.

In a flawless, one-by-one version!

“I couldn’t let him drag Revival into the abyss. I have no hostility toward any of you.”

The man’s voice was hoarse and sinister—memorable at once. As he spoke, he removed his cap, revealing eyes matching his tone: equally cruel, equally cold.

The conference room fell silent. No one responded after he spoke. All eyes locked onto him, all gun barrels aimed straight at him.

Though the room was warm from heating, the air now felt icy.

One word, and he draws a gun—is this man insane?

The standoff lasted about a minute. Zhao Linfeng tapped his fingers on the table.

Tap. Tap.

The rosewood table emitted a dull sound, breaking the rigid silence.

“Brother, you’ve got courage and vision—but your methods are ruthless. You must be a core member of Revival. How long have you been beside Han Siyuan?”

Zhao Linfeng’s words left the other leaders uncertain.

To them, this man was likely Zhao Linfeng’s pawn—probably acting. “Heh, how long?”

The man smiled, lowered his raised arms, and spread his hands. “Have any of you heard of Absolute Justice?”

“Absolute Justice… Absolute Justice?”

“Sounds familiar—I heard it when trading in Qincheng.”

“Isn’t that a survivor group over in the Development Zone?”

Those present came from Beihe District, Funing, and Changli. Some camps had never left their local areas since the disaster and knew nothing of the outside; others traveled often, trading with other factions in the city and knowing more about the surroundings.

(End of Chapter)