Honestly, that thought flashed through everyone's mind for only a second before the real chaos began. The crowd immediately started arguing about how to divide the loot.
Eight million pounds, roughly thirty-six hundred tons of goods, was a staggering fortune in the apocalypse. Only a tech-heavy city like Austin could bring together so many farm owners with such massive stockpiles of food and supplies.
But Dr. B had demanded everything in one go, and not everyone could come up with that much. Food was hard currency now. Many cities had begun printing their own currencies just to gain tighter control over food and resources. That kind of game was exactly what the powerful and the rich loved to play.
Still, no one wanted to miss such an opportunity. People started gathering whatever supplies they had, and when that wasn't enough, they began borrowing—first from Austin's ruling council, then from friends and family.
Jing Shu couldn't help thinking of those old ladies back in China who got scammed by fake investment schemes. They'd pour in their entire savings, even borrow from relatives, convinced they'd double their money overnight. The less they invested, the more it felt like they were missing out.
If there was ever a slogan for this scene, it'd be: The more you invest, the more you earn.
Dr. B tried to sound cautious, saying, "Everyone, don't over-invest. There's a limit to how much I can take."But that only made them even more desperate. His fake concern worked like pouring gasoline on a fire, and soon people were frantically signing IOUs and promising whatever they owned.
Within a short time, the entire eight million pounds worth of supplies was spoken for. Austin's council put in three million pounds, a slave owner threw in two million, and a handful of local elites combined for another million. The rest was quickly scooped up by the farm owners. Even Jing Shu managed to squeeze in a few thousand pounds' worth as a small investor.
By then, the situation was completely out of Dr. B's control. Austin's people were known for their efficiency, and before he could even protest, his entire lab and all his equipment had already been moved outside the city—to a massive crack in the ground formed by an earthquake. The fissure looked like an inverted bowl, deep and wide, with steep walls that descended into darkness.
Truckloads of materials were hauled in. Even Jing Shu's own equipment, which covered a hundred square meters, had been carefully disassembled and delivered for her. Saved her the trouble of doing it herself.
The area used to be a mountain, but after the quake, the top had collapsed inward, leaving a huge crater. From the rim, you could see molten magma glowing faintly about a hundred meters below. The inner walls were scorched and unstable, like the inside of an enormous oven that could collapse at any time.
It was genuinely dangerous.
Still, the people of Austin trusted Dr. B completely. Even though more and more residents had been getting nosebleeds recently, no one thought much of it. They assumed it had something to do with the glowing wall nearby. After unloading all the supplies, everyone retreated, leaving only thirty bodyguards behind to "protect" him.
Meanwhile, the farm owners stationed over two hundred armed "supervisors" at the entrance of the fissure, fully equipped for outdoor camping. The slave owners had learned their lesson too. They even hired two A-rank mercenary teams to keep watch.
All along the way, Dr. B kept grumbling, "This damned place is too dangerous. Why can't they send more people to protect me? If something happens, I need to be rescued first." He repeated it so often that even the guards started relaxing around him. Ironically, his constant nagging almost made the setup feel safe.
The magma was directly beneath them, the only exit was a narrow passage above, and all the guards were stationed right there. Their only task was to wait five days for Dr. B to finish his "conversion," then haul the goods back up.
Eight million pounds of cargo was no small load. Imagine those massive fifty-ton trucks—it'd take dozens of them just to move it all. That was how much they'd dumped into that pit.
Neither Austin's officials nor the farm owners were worried. With only a handful of people down there, even moving the goods one box at a time would take ages. And if anyone tried to rob them, small groups could be crushed easily, and large ones could be handled by helicopter support. No one could steal that much in one go anyway.
Most of the cargo consisted of pre-apocalypse strategic food reserves—corn, wheat, and other grains. The slave owner's share was mostly high-value minerals. Since most of his grain had already been stolen, he decided to gamble everything on rare minerals this time.
Those minerals were extremely heavy. A single piece could weigh several tons, while a full container of corn barely weighed a few hundred kilos.
Austin had plenty of fuel, and the transport distance was short, only a few dozen kilometers. Rumor had it that the closer the goods were to the raw "Water of Life" material, the stronger the conversion effect. That kept everyone motivated.
After everything was dumped inside, they realized just how massive the underground chamber was. Even with all that, the supplies barely filled one-tenth of the space.
Dr. B, ever the performer, began his "production" immediately with his slaves assisting him. The thirty supervisors watched from above, occasionally glancing down. Everyone knew the rule—no one was allowed near the lab while he worked.
Their job was to monitor him, but also to keep him safe. With magma below and a single exit above, all they had to do was guard that one passage.
So what were Jing Shu and her team doing during all this?
Of course, the best part—splitting the loot.
First, all the seeds went straight to Jing Shu. Second, the vegetable dehydration tech was the main objective of this mission, so it was hers as well. On top of that, the minerals were divided evenly among her small team. None of it belonged to the state, so they didn't have to hand in a single gram.
Two million pounds, about nine hundred tons of rare minerals, might not seem like much, but their value was sky-high. Everyone in the team hit the jackpot.
Of course, that came with a price. Each of them had to pay a hefty amount of contribution points. If they didn't have enough, they could trade part of their minerals instead, though that meant only getting half the value. Still, it was worth it. Without state help to transport the goods, they wouldn't have been able to take anything home anyway. It was only fair that everyone got their share.
The rest of the food and grain went to Dr. B's side.
And why was he willing to hand over minerals worth nearly a quarter of the total profit?
Simple. Because all the tunneling, transport, and—when the time came—the escape work was being handled by Jing Shu's team.