Jing Shu did some quick math in her head. A price tag of fifteen thousand virtual coins worked out to about a hundred tons of red nematode patties, enough to feed every refugee in Xuanwu Lake Park for a whole day, all one hundred thousand of them.
People's appetite for grain was terrifying.
That hundred tons might sound like a lot, but just think about how much she'd already poured into it. She'd been buying red nematodes at 200 jin (100 kg) per coin, throwing in hundreds of thousands of coins, and the patties she made from that filled almost an entire warehouse. Reconciling accounts on both ends had taken her days.
She still had an edge though. The government's stockpile was refined, meant for people. Hers was crude, made for poultry feed. But in times like these, who the hell cared about the difference between people food and animal feed? If it filled your stomach, that was good enough. She was sure the government wouldn't split hairs either.
Honestly, after this, she figured they'd never invite her again. Their warehouses were already crammed full of that foul, vomit-inducing stuff.
"Sixteen thousand." Jing Shu raised her paddle. One strike, heavy and sharp.
Rocket launchers weren't as hot as mandatory ammo. They were single-use weapons, more for offense than defense. Everyone here was wealthy enough to own property in the apocalypse. Who'd lug around a rocket launcher to go kill people? What they cared about was protecting their supplies. Guns were far more practical.
But her needs were different. She already had guns, grenades, even a cannon with a one-kilometer range. She had close-range and long-range covered. What she lacked was a mobile, destructive, armor-piercing weapon. The RV's cannon did area damage, but the rocket launcher was armor-piercing.
Perfect for blowing apart tanks or anything thick-skinned. Cannon shells wouldn't cut it. But rockets, now those could cripple armored threats and destroy enemy fortifications.
And she didn't just want it for human fights. In her last life, she'd run into something far worse. Post-apocalypse, thanks to reckless use of hormones and DNA splicing, some creatures thrived and some went horribly wrong. The successes ended up on human dining tables. The failures became monstrosities, Darklife nightmares.
The idea had been to create high-protein livestock. Instead, humanity paid in blood. These things grew insanely fast, starting palm-sized but ballooning ten-thousandfold within a year, thanks to spliced panda genes and dark-element nutrients.
In one year they were tank-sized, fully mature. To make them "safe," scientists had stripped their minds, leaving them without thought or pain. That also meant anything else could take control of them. That was why people called them the most "successful" synthetic species ever created.
And yeah, they were useful. In the freezing world, they worked as mobile shelters, housing seven or eight people easily. Hungry? Cut some meat from inside and eat it. They didn't feel pain. Need to move? They'd haul themselves along. For humanity, they seemed perfect.
But in the end, that gift went to the Darklife. The creatures became walking fortresses, letting hordes of horrors survive the deep cold.
Guns and grenades barely scratched them. Even with her arsenal, Jing Shu's best cannon would need several direct hits to bring one down. That was way too wasteful.
In her past life, she'd stumbled into them a few times. The tanks themselves weren't the danger, it was the monsters living inside. She'd barely escaped each encounter. This time, she was determined to be ready.
"A tank-sized beast's got to be a few tons of meat, right? Imagine how much that'd sell for. And these things don't die easy. As long as the heart stays intact, even a lump of flesh can grow back. If I could capture a few, I'd have a never-ending money printer." Her mind was buzzing, abacus beads clattering. To her, this wasn't just survival. It was business.
She'd heard millions of those palm-sized Darklife tanks were bred. Two-thirds died, but the survivors kept growing. The biggest were as tall as buildings, walking mountains. For humanity, that spelled disaster.
"All money on legs," she muttered. "Rocket launchers are non-negotiable. The more, the better. Early investment never hurts." She already saw it, raising a few of those beasts herself. She was gunning for the title of apocalypse's biggest farm owner.
The fat officer chuckled. "Anyone raising the bid? If not…"
"Twenty thousand."
The suit guy next to her snapped his fingers.
The room buzzed to life. Just like that, the awkward, reluctant mood turned to fiery excitement. Chinese folk loved a lively scene.
"Thirty thousand." Jing Shu didn't hesitate. She had to win this rocket launcher. Maybe America stockpiled plenty, but she couldn't risk depending on that. Most important of all, she had to spend today.
The suit guy blew on his nails and started grooming them. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Hey, helmet auntie, the lowest spender's only at twelve thousand. You don't need to fight so hard."
"Auntie?" Jing Shu sneered. She ripped off her gas mask, revealing a face so stunning it made the room catch its breath.
In her own words, she had no strengths except her looks. She was bad at studying, had no special talents, her personality was average. But she was undeniably beautiful.
The heavy winter coat and pants couldn't hide her natural charm. Two braided pigtails framed delicate features and porcelain skin. Even the spoiled daughters of tycoons couldn't compare.
Clothes made the person, but with her, it didn't matter what she wore. She always looked flawless.
She was normally low-key, but the suit guy had been pissing her off all night.
"Pretty face, sure. So what? Forty thousand. Listen, little master's loaded. Compete with me? You're not even close." He'd been shaken for a second, but arrogance snapped right back.