Chapter Fifty-One: The Hierarchy

It was precisely because of the scene Xie Han painted—the wind rippling through the rice fields—that everyone felt hope blossom in their hearts. After the meeting concluded, an unprecedented enthusiasm swept through the entire company, each person throwing themselves into their work with renewed vigor. The fine flour in the warehouse was put to full use, with preparations for the evacuation plan beginning in earnest. Of all those involved, Chu Tianhe was undoubtedly the busiest, scarcely finding a moment to rest. Although the evacuation plan had been proposed by Xie Han, it was no more than a framework; the intricate details still required careful refinement, and this responsibility naturally fell to Chu Tianhe, the logistics chief.

Yet, the fine flour stored in the warehouse was but a drop in the ocean compared to the needs of the evacuation plan. Thus, three days after the meeting, Xie Han had no choice but to sign up for the hunting expedition. The hunting parties now generally consisted of around eight thousand people, the maximum number for whom the base could provide weapons. As a result, admittance to the hunts was no longer a casual affair. Luckily, with the help of Chen Liu’s group, it was still quite easy for Xie Han to join.

Take, for example, the core chipset of the post-apocalyptic rice cookers—by modern standards, its technological sophistication was exceedingly high, and manufacturing it posed significant challenges. After all, even in the present day, only a handful of major corporations, such as AMD and Intel, possessed the capability to produce such chips. These companies were world-renowned; it would be hard to find anyone on Earth unaware of their names. Xie Han knew better than to hope these titans would manufacture such custom chipsets for him. His only option was to produce them in the post-apocalyptic world and transport them back using his spatial storage.

The company Xie Han had established in the apocalypse had gathered only the most elite talents. Thus, in just three days, they had not only fully reverse-engineered the small chipset but also meticulously documented every step of the manufacturing process. Their efficiency delighted Xie Han, who immediately handed over all the visible electrical devices for them to study—after all, he had to keep them occupied.

Taishan had initially tried to contact the manager of a manufacturing plant, but as Xie Han had expected, the shortage of raw materials made it nearly impossible to produce many chipsets. Yet, it was not all in vain; at the very least, they learned some valuable news. Twenty kilometers east of Wangtian City, there was a large manufacturing facility—one that employed over six thousand workers and, by extension, must have a substantial reserve of raw materials.

This revelation thrilled Xie Han beyond measure. While raw material reserves were crucial, what he truly aimed for was to relocate the entire factory to his future base in the apocalyptic world. Only then could he ensure a steady supply of chipsets to modern times, allowing him to produce as many rice cookers as needed. Moreover, with some improvements to the production lines, the factory could manufacture a variety of other goods—even precision weapon components from its machinery. This was precisely what Xie Han needed.

Spurred on by this excellent news, Xie Han was in such high spirits that he dragged Qi Feiwu out for an entire day of shopping, returning with arms full of assorted goods.

Ever since witnessing the destructive power of explosive rounds, Xie Han had made sure to prepare an ample supply for himself; these were, without a doubt, among the most effective weapons against the R2 and R3 mutants. Yet, this particular hunting expedition did not interest Xie Han much—it was merely a cover to conceal his true intentions. The lingering terror of the R3’s might still haunted him; with his spatial storage at hand, why risk his life unnecessarily?

With these thoughts in mind, Xie Han’s hunting party this time was limited to Xu Qiang, his main support, and ten of Taishan’s men, all crammed into their trusty, if battered, modified minibus.

The hunting convoy had grown with each expedition, now stretching to more than six hundred vehicles, including sixty heavy-duty trucks—capable of hauling several hundred tons of grain in a single trip. Their repeated successes had filled the base’s warehouses to the brim with privately owned food supplies. This tangible abundance drove the continued expansion of the hunting convoys. The middle-aged man who led them had, by now, become the de facto leader of all non-military teams within the base.

Xie Han had heard the name of this man, Gao Tianhao, more than any other in the past week. The brash young man, Gao Zaitian, was his nephew. Gao Tianhao had an impressive background; he was once the CEO of Deep Blue Group, the largest corporation in Wangtian Province, and his assets had reached nearly a hundred billion before the X-ray outbreak. He was a legendary figure in the province’s business circles. Perhaps it was this background that allowed him, upon arriving at the base, to swiftly negotiate the reduction of the base’s harvest share from 50% to 20%, and to convince them to relinquish a significant arsenal of heavy weaponry.

As the hunting expeditions matured, Gao Tianhao naturally did not let such an opportunity slip by. Each participant, regardless of their haul, was required to give 20% of their share to the base, and an additional 5% to Gao Tianhao himself. This was but the first step. He then classified the participants and their vehicles by ability and performance, assigning grades that determined their share of the spoils.

Though many initially opposed these policies, the overwhelming bounty from the hunts quickly silenced all dissent. After all, participation almost guaranteed a sizeable reward. Gao Tianhao’s strategy was undeniably shrewd; the visible results left little room for argument, and soon the cheers drowned out any lingering grumbles.

Watching the convoy slowly file out of the base—a seemingly endless line of more than six hundred vehicles—Xie Han could not help but marvel. Xu Qiang had already started the minibus, but his face was sour as he stared blankly at the display screen of the onboard smart system. A massive “E” was emblazoned on it—the lowest ranking assigned to their vehicle. Xu Qiang, seething, muttered, “Damn it, Gao Tianhao is a real piece of work. With this lousy E grade, the food we get might not even cover the cost of ammunition.”

It was hardly surprising. Even if the convoy managed to bring in three hundred tons of grain, after the graded distribution, E-class vehicles would receive no more than two hundred jin at most. From that, they still had to surrender 20% to the base and another 5% to Gao Tianhao. In the end, what remained was barely a hundred jin—a pitiful amount, rendering participation in the hunt almost meaningless for the minibus.

Xie Han merely smiled at Xu Qiang’s complaints. “A hundred jin is nothing to scoff at. If you could bring in that much every day, ten to fifteen days’ work would be enough to feed one person for a year, with no worries about food or drink.”

Xu Qiang opened his mouth, then sighed and forced a bitter smile. “The real problem is, we’ve got dozens of mouths to feed. If we really end up with just a hundred jin, it won’t be enough for our thirty-odd family members, let alone the wages for all the company staff.” He thought for a moment and added, “Maybe we should ask Brother Chen Liu for a better vehicle? With his connections, getting one shouldn’t be too hard.”

Chen Liu was indeed well connected in the base, his influence evident in the several Humvee Kings under his command. In the five-tier ranking system—A, B, C, D, E—the Humvee King was classified as C, while the heavy-duty roadbreakers were B. So far, the A grade had yet to be awarded; Xie Han suspected only a tank could qualify. This, too, was a testament to Gao Tianhao’s cunning.

“I’ll find a way to get vehicles—not just for hunting. We’ll need a lot of them for our upcoming plans as well.” Xie Han had already considered this issue, but rather than relying on Chen Liu, he had set his sights on Wangtian City itself. He had already investigated the timing of the XR virus outbreak in the city: around ten o’clock at night, when most people had left work for home. He was certain that many vehicles in garages and lots had escaped serious damage.

“Let’s drive,” Xie Han said, watching as the last of the convoy rolled out of the base. No matter what, each hunting expedition was an opportunity worth cherishing; it was, after all, the only legitimate way to leave the base without attracting undue attention.