"...Fine."
After a long pause, Ethan Snow finally gave in.
"Ten barrels it is."
He felt like he was bleeding internally—this was a terrible deal, and he knew it. But what choice did he have?
Without a weapon, he'd eventually die of thirst or to the infected.
Ding! Trade completed.
You gave: Purified Water ×10 (10L)
You received: Precision Longbow ×1, Arrows ×50
Ethan blinked.
"Wait... fifty arrows? I thought you said only ten came with it."
Lucas replied calmly, "You're right. But I liked your attitude. So here's forty extra—just don't tell anyone. Do me a favor and spread the word in the chat, yeah?"
A gentle slap followed by a sweet fruit. Lucas knew how to play the game.
Sure enough, Ethan lit up.
"Man, you're a legend! There aren't many sellers like you left in this world. I'll promote you hard, I swear!"
Lucas smiled to himself.
Ten barrels of water gone, and he still feels like I did him a favor. Not bad.
True to his word, Ethan hit the regional chat within minutes.
"Guys! This Precision Longbow is insane! One arrow = one zombie. Never misses!"
"It's a god-tier weapon! I feel like I'm about to conquer the apocalypse and marry a beauty queen!"
Then he posted a video.
First-person view.
An arrow flew straight through a zombie's skull. No hesitation. No deviation.
Clean. Bloody. Effective.
The results were immediate.
The chat exploded again:
"Damn! This thing is way safer than a butcher knife!"
"And it's quiet! No gunfire to attract more of them!"
"Dude, if I had a bow like that, I wouldn't even need to find a rich wife—they'd throw themselves at me!"
"I saw someone say there were six girls holed up in a dorm. I'm buying a bow and heading there NOW!"
"I NEED to get into the supermarket across the street. That bow's my ticket in!"
Sales inquiries surged.
Lucas's private messages overflowed with new pings.
Many were from desperate women.
Most had nothing valuable—just flirtation, promises, or pathetic attempts to be "kept" as companions.
Lucas ignored them all.
This is the apocalypse. If I can't guarantee my own safety, why would I take on a liability?
Then, one message caught his eye.
"I want ten Precision Longbows. Name your price."
The sender: Ethan Cole.
Lucas raised an eyebrow.
Ten bows? That meant Ethan had at least ten armed survivors. His group had expanded.
And Lucas remembered—Ethan had mentioned something about attacking a large supermarket yesterday.
Could it be that he succeeded?
"Name your price. If you need materials, we might have some too. We can pay for your labor separately."
Smart guy.
If Lucas revealed the materials, Ethan could estimate cost price and begin to bargain.
Lucas wouldn't give him that opening.
"No need to talk materials. Just tell me what you're offering."
In truth, ten bows only required 10 Energy Crystals to make. Wood was worthless.
But Lucas's offer was steep:
"100 Energy Crystals. Plus 50 units of food and 50 units of water."
A 10x markup on cost.
Add in consumables, and the profit margin shot to 20x.
Ethan hesitated.
"Bro... that's a bit much."
"What if we go with 80 Energy Crystals? Food and water are crazy scarce right now. Even the auction house has them priced like gold. We're feeding a lot of mouths here."
Lucas didn't budge.
"100 Crystals. Non-negotiable."
"If you're short on food or water, you can offer something else of value."
"These are the only ranged weapons available. I'm not selling slingshots here."
Truth was, Lucas was fine with 80. That still netted him a massive profit.
But in negotiation, it wasn't about what you accepted. It was about how you accepted it.
If he folded too early, Ethan would feel cheated.
If he stood firm, and Ethan still made a counteroffer, he'd think he got a bargain.
Perception mattered.
"We only have 90 Crystals left..." Ethan admitted.
"I'll throw in some extra supplies to make up the rest."
A second later, Ethan sent over a long list:
Mutated Fertilizer ×300
Clean Fabric ×120
Bloodstained Keys ×23
Mysterious Key ×1
Bloody Keycards ×8
Toilet Paper ×12
Fresh Grapes ×20
Fresh Oranges ×7
Rugby Helmets ×12
Diesel Generators ×2
200L Barrels of Diesel ×10
159L Barrels of Gasoline ×12
Refined Steel ×178
"This is everything I've got. Take whatever's useful to you. Just help me out here, man. If you ever join us, I'll give you a leadership title."
Lucas didn't even respond to that last line.
In the apocalypse, power was the only title that mattered.
If you had it, people knelt.
If you didn't, no badge would save you.
He scrolled the list again.
"Everything but the rugby helmets. I'll take it all."