As daylight broke, the same ruthless sun rose once more from the edge of the Great Barrens. Its searing light would soon dispel the near-freezing night chill, sending temperatures on a frantic ascent to a lethal forty-plus degrees Celsius. Such extreme diurnal swings were just one of the many profound malice the land held for its inhabitants.
Taking advantage of the still-tolerable morning cool, Michael and his men, after a quick meal, began their return journey to Sweetwater Gulch. Using the newly risen sun as a guide, John and the others easily oriented themselves and pinpointed the settlement's direction—a skill Michael considered highly professional, but which to the natives who had grown up here, was as fundamental and vital as breathing, a basic necessity for surviving to the age of twelve.
Before departing, Michael caused a brief delay. He had John and a few others dig a shallow grave outside the shelter. The two sets of female remains were placed within and covered, allowing them a final rest in the earth. It was the only gesture of thanks Michael could offer for the suitcase's contents.
During the return trip, Michael found his act of burial to be surprisingly worthwhile. On a whim, he plugged one of the U disks into the truck's USB port. Immediately, the vehicle's sound system blasted out a powerful, driving song. It was an English track, its existence in the modern world unknown to Michael. He had certainly never heard it before. Judging by the lyrics—a stirring call to resist an external invasion—it likely hadn't been written yet. The soaring female vocals stirred something in him, a surge of emotion he couldn't quite name. Even as a self-proclaimed musical amateur, he understood: this was the power of music.
Back in Sweetwater Gulch, pushing aside his fatigue from the sleepless night, Michael immediately used the public address system to summon his core team. They needed a plan, and fast, to develop the open-pit coal mine.
After discussion, a consensus was reached: a small, permanent outpost must be established at the mine site as soon as possible. For the initial phase, a detachment of twelve men and three women would be formed from the current populace. Four of these would be guards, each armed with a rifle and a full magazine, constituting the primary security force. The remaining eight men and three women would be the main mining labor. Given the formidable physical prowess of Wasteland natives, these twelve people relying on manual labor alone could easily supply the settlement's coal needs. They would also be issued melee weapons. In the Wasteland, every adult, man or woman, knew how to fight. In a pinch, they could form a cohesive defensive unit. With this configuration—primarily the four assault rifles—they could handle most small raider bands.
Frankly, no one at the meeting was overly concerned about the site's security. It was just coal. Only Michael, with his budding industrial needs, craved the stuff. For others, scavenged wood and roots sufficed for brief warmth or cooking.
A supply run to the coal outpost was scheduled every three days. The trucks would bring back the mined coal and deliver essential supplies—food, water, and even enough for the miners to wash with, as the vehicles would be empty on the outbound journey.
With the plan set, a mining team was quickly assembled. Loaded with tents, tools like picks and shovels, and other supplies, they boarded the trucks and set off immediately. Being assigned to the heavy labor of mining didn't bother them much. They were told it was a rotational duty, lasting a month, and most people in the settlement would eventually take a turn.
Notably, the young Han man Li Hao was appointed leader of this detachment. This was entirely Michael's doing, a way to give his fellow countryman some experience and build his credentials. Michael had begun a deliberate effort to promote and rely on the people from Base 0005, intending to gradually place them in key positions within Sweetwater Gulch. The future power structure, as he foresaw it, would consist of two main factions: one led by trusted aides like Old Gimpy and John, and the other composed of his Han compatriots. He even anticipated a degree of healthy rivalry and competition between them, which he didn't mind—in fact, he welcomed it, as long as it remained constructive. As the saying went, a team without factions was an anomaly.
It had to be said, circumstances truly shape a person. Michael, once a listless, small-time salesman in the modern world, now found his perspective and mentality shifting significantly as the leader of a few hundred people with a burgeoning enterprise. Even if he himself didn't always recognize these changes, and his outward demeanor remained as irreverent and cheeky as ever.
…
With the coal mine located, matters in the Wasteland seemed to require less of Michael's direct attention. The coal just needed to be dug up, shipped back, and fed into the boilers. Land reclamation and brick-making could proceed. The actual brick-firing would be an issue for ten or fifteen days later.
Thus, Michael began preparations for his return to the modern world. This trip seemed straightforward: take the pouch of diamond-studded platinum jewelry back and find a way to liquidate it. Of course, he had no intention of using that scoundrel "Brother Dong" as a middleman this time; he needed a new channel.
Oh, and before leaving, he needed to shoot some promotional videos with the girls for the various electronic goods he was "importing." That was simple enough. After several shoots and, more importantly, extensive "research" on Douyin watching all those swaying young ladies, Xun and the others were no longer the country bumpkins who only knew how to make a "V" sign and giggle awkwardly at the camera. Now adept with the makeup Michael had provided, they could unleash a performance that would put many modern influencers to shame.
The filming process was now remarkably smooth. The only minor issue was the recent weather in the Wasteland—this so-called crisp, dry autumn air seemed to leave Michael feeling peculiarly parched and restless after each session, making him crave a can of herbal tea to cool his internal heat.
Michael had also considered training the aloof and elegant Jasmine into another live-streaming queen. Her icy demeanor (when she wasn't calling him "Ba-ba") would surely drive certain audiences in the modern world wild. Unfortunately, for reasons unknown, Jasmine was extremely camera-shy. Even at Michael's "fatherly" request, she appeared stiff and unhappy on camera. Seeing this, Michael reluctantly gave up on the idea.
As he finished editing the videos, adding some cheap special effects and product links, a sudden thought struck him: Why not add some of that new music I just found to these videos?
Branding it as "original music" would surely elevate the videos' perceived quality. And as the mastermind behind it all… could he, perhaps, be seen as a mysterious,prodigy composer? The more he thought about it, the more promising the idea seemed.