The staple food for lunch is palm-sized white bread, roasted crispy, and charred corn kernels, and wolf meat boiled with soybeans.
Not only Rowan, who was an envoy, was entertained, but also the eight slaves and two guards who pulled the cart together were also honored with him.
Regardless of the guards, they were servants with the same status as him, but Rowan never thought of letting the slave eat at the table.
But after all, they didn't dine at the same place, so Rowan didn't say much.
Putting his hands together, he thanked the owner who gave them food, and he couldn't wait to reach out and grab the white bread on the plate.
Different from the cold and hard green wheat cake, this bread was made of unknown ingredients, let alone how it was made, but it was soft and fluffy. Just holding it in his hand, Rowan couldn't help but feel a flicker, and hurriedly put it in his mouth and took a bite.
It smells so good!!!
His eyes were almost protruding, and before he swallowed the food in his mouth, he quickly picked up the spoon, scooped another spoonful of bean stew and stuffed it into his mouth.
Soft and fragrant, it melts in the mouth, and his taste buds immediately gave a very high evaluation!
Before he had time to savor it carefully, he ate it hungrily, like a reincarnated starving ghost, completely forgetting the boss's instructions to him before he left.
Wolf meat is usually sour, but they are so badly stewed with soybeans that it tastes a bit fragrant. As for the way the corn is made, it's even worse. Did they fry it in oil?
This is too extravagant!
The white bread was enough, and when Rowan ate the fourth one, he felt that there was no room for it.
After taking a sip of hot water, he tried hard to swallow the food stuffed down his throat, and looked at Mike who was sitting across the table eating with an expression that had never seen the world.
"What's this?"
Mike is a nice guy and answered truthfully.
"Steamed buns, salt and pepper corn, braised pork and soybeans."
Rowan looked blank.
There are three words that I have never heard before, but three appear at the same time. Unable to hide the envious eyes any longer, he couldn't help asking.
"Do you eat this every day?"
Mike shook his head and said.
"It depends on what's in the market."
There is no canteen in the outpost, and the residents of the shelter are cooking.
Although the market at noon was not as lively as at night, many people set up big pots there and cooked some weird foods.
The manager set a standard for lunch, with a budget of 3 silver coins per person, and Mike took the money to the market to buy.
The residents of the refuge at the north gate who were doing business were very enthusiastic, and they scrambled to drag him to their booth, and even offered discounts for bulk purchases.
Although Mike doesn't understand why there are discounts for bulk purchases, it's a good thing to save money for the manager. The last meal only cost 70% of the total budget, which can be said to be very economical.
"Market?"
However, after listening to Mike's explanation, Rowan's expression became even more bewildered.
That does sound weird. Ordinary small survivor strongholds do not have such things as markets.
After all, trade is the product of prosperity. If more than half of the people in a place are slaves without private property, who can sell the things on the market? They may not even belong to their own flesh, let alone something worth exploiting.
I heard that there was a grocery store before Beit Street, which was run by the old mayor and allowed the trash guys there to exchange some daily necessities. This can be regarded as a great act of kindness in the vicinity, but the family has been driven away by these barbarians with guns, and now I don't know if there is such a thing as a "Shop" there.
Rowan had never been there, but people said that a group of beggars who picked up trash lived there. They occasionally go to pick up things near the farm, but they have usually driven away, unless they have chips on them. The farmer does not want to conflict with the neighbors, and usually allows them to exchange some green wheat to go back.
"Thank you for your hospitality." Wiping her mouth with her sleeve, Rowan took a moment to hold back her hiccups, stood up and said respectfully.
Mike shook his head, corrected seriously: "All this is the generosity of the adults, you should thank him, you don't need to thank me."
Rowan glanced at him enviously.
Strange. He actually saw loyalty in the face of a slave!
However, what is even more strange is that I actually have to please him...
After coming out of the dining room, Rowan greeted slaves who come with him, and led the two-headed ox tied to the door.
He waved the whip in his hand, as if he wanted to vent his suppressed emotions on these people.
"Hurry up, lazy dogs, it's time for us to hit the road."
The slaves didn't dare to disobey him, let alone the iron-pipe rifles carried by him and the guards, they all untied the ropes from the two-headed ox, and started on the road at the urging of Mr. Rowan.
However, people's simple desire for a better life cannot be stopped by a whip alone. Several slaves whispered to each other while Rowan and the two guards didn't notice.
"The food just now was too delicious."
"Yeah, even in a fat year, we haven't had such a good time..."
"This is heaven!"
"Speaking of which, that person is... Mike?"
"Seems like it."
"I can't believe it's him! I almost didn't recognize him!"
"You said that if we go to him..."
"Hush! Don't let the man with the gun hear you. Don't blame me for not reminding you. Last time, the kid who boasted that he was going to travel with the caravan was hung by the door for three days and three nights. Half of my body was gnawed off!"
The slaves were silent and dared not speak any more.
Watching the camel caravan disappearing at the end of the forest, Lucius, who was standing by the window on the third floor of the nursing home, suddenly spoke enviously.
"It would be nice if they gave me a few more cows."
Sumeria, who came here to grab a meal, joked.
"Is this considered eating from a bowl and thinking for a pot?"
She learned this sentence from Lucius, and it is said that it is used to describe a person who is insatiable. Although she didn't think it was accurate to use this sentence to describe the manager, it was unexpectedly appropriate to use it at this time.
"Of course not," Lucius looked back at her, dissatisfied, "I taught you this sentence, not for you to say it to me."
Sumeria rolled his eyes at him lightly, and continued to concentrate on dealing with the popcorn in his hands.
Although Lucius always said it was junk food, she didn't think so at all. Sprinkle a little sugar on top, the taste is simply amazing!
Silver Coins are awesome!
She has already started to calculate how to spend tomorrow's salary.
...
It was just noon.
At the entrance of Tundra Street subway station, which is about 4 kilometers away from Wetland Park, the pungent smell of gunpowder permeates the street, even the howling north wind can't blow it away.
A group of joyful little players are skillfully repeating yesterday's work - pulling monsters, setting fire, counting the results of the battle, busy and full of enthusiasm.
No one is having fun except for two.
One is Mole and the other is Mosquito.
In order to clear the passage from the entrance of the subway station to the gate of No. 117 shelter, the two "Contractors", one big and one small, have spent more than 400 silver coins in front and back, and bought two LD-47 rifles!
If this task cannot be passed today, whether it is in terms of time or cost, it will be difficult to say whether the reward of 1200 silver coins is worth it.
"Maybe we should learn from Brother Tomorrow and the others," Mosquito said with a sad face, looking at Mole standing beside him, "I chatted with Bunny yesterday, and they didn't use that much when they were venting the ruins of the greenhouse. People went to pile up, although some ammunition was spent, but the calculated cost is not much higher than ours.”
Said Mole, shaking his head.
"Brother Mosquito, this statement is wrong. You think they are sharing their game experience with you, but you don't know that they are just distracting you. Elite tactics? You don't even look at the configuration of their teams. A set of exoskeletons of the same style as Managers, A mechanical compound bow that is the strongest in the entire server, a mechanical hand that maximizes the output of the intelligence department, and... the highest perception player of the entire server."
"This kind of hexagonal team, what tactics are you discussing with them? Their output alone is three, and it is bloody money to ensure that they don't die. If we learn from their style of play, this task can last until next month. Listen to me, if you don't have enough equipment, you have to use the sea of people to make it up, there is no shortcut!"
I understand the truth. But still so envious!
With an expression of envy and hatred on his face, Mosquito couldn't help but yelled.
"Hey! This group of hateful Rich people!"
Mole also nodded, and said in agreement.
"Really? Now you understand the importance of balance, right?"
The output of that manipulator is unreasonable, and the thrown objects in his hand are almost turned into shells. Has the planner really considered the feelings of players in the power department? There is also that mechanical compound bow, which is more powerful than a gun. It can penetrate armor and throw explosives. Ammunition is cheap. Is it reasonable not to cut a knife!
Of course, if he can be rewarded with a set of equipment of the same level or even better after completing the task of shelter 117, then he has said nothing.
Martin, who was in charge of pulling monsters before, finally checked his results, and happened to hear the conversation between the two when he came.
Although he didn't understand at all, he still excitedly made up a line.
"The right strategy of the sea of people will always work!"
"Martin, you are a newcomer to join in the fun, do you understand your own sequence?" Envious of other people, Mosquito didn't want to talk nonsense, and stuffed a handful of coins into his hand, "Take it! No need to look for it!"
Martin counted, one copper coin more this time, not bad, he said with a smile.
"Thank you boss! I wish the boss a fortune!"
Hearing this phrase of getting rich, the eyelids of the stimulated Mosquito twitched again.
Get rich? If he continued playing like this, let alone getting rich, he would almost go bankrupt!
Seeing Mosquito's pain, Mole, who felt the same way, sighed and patted him on the shoulder lightly.
"Come on, victory is just around the corner. I have a hunch that the money for this mission may not be lower than that of the greenhouse ruins, and we will definitely earn it back by then!"
Mosquito looked up at the sky and let out a long sigh.
"I wish."
In fact, Brother Mole's words were not entirely comforting him. Victory was indeed within sight.
There are sixty-seven gnawers killed this round, which is much less than yesterday, and the agile newcomer named Martin spent more than twice as long pulling monsters below as compared to yesterday. Obviously, the density of alien species is not as high as it was a few days ago.
Mole reckoned in his heart that if the situation was optimistic, it would take two more rounds at most to finish this task.
It happened to be lunch time, and the young players who participated in the strategy took a break, walked into the abandoned shop on the side of the road, and boiled a pot of boiling water with the charcoal they brought and the branches they picked up.
The newbies need to save money to buy equipment, and most of them are reluctant to buy expensive supplies. The dry food they bring is mainly green wheat cakes or scones made of croissants.
Although this kind of dry food is not nutritious and tastes very ordinary, it is convenient. Whether it is thrown into the pot and boiled into a paste, or directly hugged and gnawed, it can fill the stomach.
There will be a low blood sugar debuff on an empty stomach, which will affect the output. Players are going to wait for the dry food before starting the next wave of offensive.
However, at this moment, neither Mole nor Brother Mosquito noticed that a group of heavily armed mercenaries were quietly entering this area on the road just one street away from Tundra Street subway station.
They were not many in number, only eight of them. Although their equipment was not the most elite, it was more than a little bit stronger than the stragglers roaming the wasteland. Not only were they equipped with automatic weapons, two of them carried thigh-thick bazookas on their backs, which were quite powerful.
It can be seen that their boss spent a lot of money and learned the lessons of the last failure. Not only did they hire a stronger mercenary group, but they also bought air tickets to and from the northern suburbs for this group.
Their task is simple.
Arrive at Tundra Street Subway Station, clear out the alien species below the Subway Station, then enter Shelter No. 117, and return to the extraction point with the contents inside.
In fact, if the situation is optimistic, they should have completed this task two days ago. However, no one expected that there was still a group of people who were also targeting shelter 117.
Those people seem to be from the newly rising survivor forces in the northern suburbs of Spring City. According to the train-talking host of Boulder City Radio, these people not only killed the Bloody Hand clan, but also killed the mutants on Street 76. They even hooked up with companies passing through the northern suburbs.
Although those people's equipment is very weak and their own side has obvious advantages, no one dares to take it lightly.
Especially yesterday, news came from the scouts who went to the high-rise building to establish a sniper point, saying that they had discovered a target suspected of being an awakened person.
Awakened!
As the captain of the twelve, Prieter felt that things might not be as simple as imagined.
Without doing anything immediately, they occupied a half-collapsed building along the street, placed a radio station, and established a temporary command post here, and got in touch with the scouts who arrived at the front line first.
"Carl, is the awakened person from yesterday still there?"
After waiting for a while, the scout's voice came from the communication channel.
"It's gone... I suspect that he hasn't fully awakened, but there are already signs of awakening."
Prieter said in a low voice.
"What is ability?"
Carl replied.
"It may be related to the intuitive department or the spiritual department."
Intuitive or spiritual.
Prieter frowned tightly.
The so-called awakening refers to the "Alienation" of part of the body's traits, showing some characteristics different from ordinary people.
There are many possible causes of awakening, the more common ones are the use of genetic improvement agents, or the activation of the survival instinct at a critical moment, resulting in the dominant expression of the unactivated segment of the gene segment.
Compared with the "Risk-controllable" mechanical prosthesis transformation, awakening is undoubtedly a road full of thorns. Although it can bring powerful power, it is not without cost.
However, it is undeniable that the awakened ones are really difficult to deal with, especially the spiritual and intuitive ones. Many abilities are so strong that they are unreasonable and hard to guard against.
Just like the energy weapon branch in light weapons!
"The group of people is preparing for the second wave of offensive. I feel that they have almost cleaned up the alien species under the subway station... Boss, when are we going to do it?"
Prieter said calmly.
"Don't panic, wait for them to draw the alien species out from below."
It may be a genius idea to lure the aliens out from under the subway station to set fire, but these people obviously don't realize how big the movement they made and the loopholes behind their buttocks.
Prieter's thinking is clear.
They don't need to confront those survivors head-on, they just need to wait quietly for the alien species to come out, and take advantage of the survivors waving cold weapons to rush up and kill them out.
So what if there are awakened ones?
Eating these survivors and aliens in one bite is as easy as eating a sandwich biscuit.
Thinking of this, a faint smile appeared on Prieter's face.
He will teach these survivors a lesson. Why do people say that someone who pursues immediate gains while neglecting greater danger behind will soon meet lady death!
The staple food for lunch is palm-sized white bread, roasted crispy, and charred corn kernels, and wolf meat boiled with soybeans.
Not only Rowan, who was an envoy, was entertained, but also the eight slaves and two guards who pulled the cart together were also honored with him.
Regardless of the guards, they were servants with the same status as him, but Rowan never thought of letting the slave eat at the table.
But after all, they didn't dine at the same place, so Rowan didn't say much.
Putting his hands together, he thanked the owner who gave them food, and he couldn't wait to reach out and grab the white bread on the plate.
Different from the cold and hard green wheat cake, this bread was made of unknown ingredients, let alone how it was made, but it was soft and fluffy. Just holding it in his hand, Rowan couldn't help but feel a flicker, and hurriedly put it in his mouth and took a bite.
It smells so good!!!
His eyes were almost protruding, and before he swallowed the food in his mouth, he quickly picked up the spoon, scooped another spoonful of bean stew and stuffed it into his mouth.
Soft and fragrant, it melts in the mouth, and his taste buds immediately gave a very high evaluation!
Before he had time to savor it carefully, he ate it hungrily, like a reincarnated starving ghost, completely forgetting the boss's instructions to him before he left.
Wolf meat is usually sour, but they are so badly stewed with soybeans that it tastes a bit fragrant. As for the way the corn is made, it's even worse. Did they fry it in oil?
This is too extravagant!
The white bread was enough, and when Rowan ate the fourth one, he felt that there was no room for it.
After taking a sip of hot water, he tried hard to swallow the food stuffed down his throat, and looked at Mike who was sitting across the table eating with an expression that had never seen the world.
"What's this?"
Mike is a nice guy and answered truthfully.
"Steamed buns, salt and pepper corn, braised pork and soybeans."
Rowan looked blank.
There are three words that I have never heard before, but three appear at the same time. Unable to hide the envious eyes any longer, he couldn't help asking.
"Do you eat this every day?"
Mike shook his head and said.
"It depends on what's in the market."
There is no canteen in the outpost, and the residents of the shelter are cooking.
Although the market at noon was not as lively as at night, many people set up big pots there and cooked some weird foods.
The manager set a standard for lunch, with a budget of 3 silver coins per person, and Mike took the money to the market to buy.
The residents of the refuge at the north gate who were doing business were very enthusiastic, and they scrambled to drag him to their booth, and even offered discounts for bulk purchases.
Although Mike doesn't understand why there are discounts for bulk purchases, it's a good thing to save money for the manager. The last meal only cost 70% of the total budget, which can be said to be very economical.
"Market?"
However, after listening to Mike's explanation, Rowan's expression became even more bewildered.
That does sound weird. Ordinary small survivor strongholds do not have such things as markets.
After all, trade is the product of prosperity. If more than half of the people in a place are slaves without private property, who can sell the things on the market? They may not even belong to their own flesh, let alone something worth exploiting.
I heard that there was a grocery store before Beit Street, which was run by the old mayor and allowed the trash guys there to exchange some daily necessities. This can be regarded as a great act of kindness in the vicinity, but the family has been driven away by these barbarians with guns, and now I don't know if there is such a thing as a "Shop" there.
Rowan had never been there, but people said that a group of beggars who picked up trash lived there. They occasionally go to pick up things near the farm, but they have usually driven away, unless they have chips on them. The farmer does not want to conflict with the neighbors, and usually allows them to exchange some green wheat to go back.
"Thank you for your hospitality." Wiping her mouth with her sleeve, Rowan took a moment to hold back her hiccups, stood up and said respectfully.
Mike shook his head, corrected seriously: "All this is the generosity of the adults, you should thank him, you don't need to thank me."
Rowan glanced at him enviously.
Strange. He actually saw loyalty in the face of a slave!
However, what is even more strange is that I actually have to please him...
After coming out of the dining room, Rowan greeted slaves who come with him, and led the two-headed ox tied to the door.
He waved the whip in his hand, as if he wanted to vent his suppressed emotions on these people.
"Hurry up, lazy dogs, it's time for us to hit the road."
The slaves didn't dare to disobey him, let alone the iron-pipe rifles carried by him and the guards, they all untied the ropes from the two-headed ox, and started on the road at the urging of Mr. Rowan.
However, people's simple desire for a better life cannot be stopped by a whip alone. Several slaves whispered to each other while Rowan and the two guards didn't notice.
"The food just now was too delicious."
"Yeah, even in a fat year, we haven't had such a good time..."
"This is heaven!"
"Speaking of which, that person is... Mike?"
"Seems like it."
"I can't believe it's him! I almost didn't recognize him!"
"You said that if we go to him..."
"Hush! Don't let the man with the gun hear you. Don't blame me for not reminding you. Last time, the kid who boasted that he was going to travel with the caravan was hung by the door for three days and three nights. Half of my body was gnawed off!"
The slaves were silent and dared not speak any more.
Watching the camel caravan disappearing at the end of the forest, Lucius, who was standing by the window on the third floor of the nursing home, suddenly spoke enviously.
"It would be nice if they gave me a few more cows."
Sumeria, who came here to grab a meal, joked.
"Is this considered eating from a bowl and thinking for a pot?"
She learned this sentence from Lucius, and it is said that it is used to describe a person who is insatiable. Although she didn't think it was accurate to use this sentence to describe the manager, it was unexpectedly appropriate to use it at this time.
"Of course not," Lucius looked back at her, dissatisfied, "I taught you this sentence, not for you to say it to me."
Sumeria rolled his eyes at him lightly, and continued to concentrate on dealing with the popcorn in his hands.
Although Lucius always said it was junk food, she didn't think so at all. Sprinkle a little sugar on top, the taste is simply amazing!
Silver Coins are awesome!
She has already started to calculate how to spend tomorrow's salary.
...
It was just noon.
At the entrance of Tundra Street subway station, which is about 4 kilometers away from Wetland Park, the pungent smell of gunpowder permeates the street, even the howling north wind can't blow it away.
A group of joyful little players are skillfully repeating yesterday's work - pulling monsters, setting fire, counting the results of the battle, busy and full of enthusiasm.
No one is having fun except for two.
One is Mole and the other is Mosquito.
In order to clear the passage from the entrance of the subway station to the gate of No. 117 shelter, the two "Contractors", one big and one small, have spent more than 400 silver coins in front and back, and bought two LD-47 rifles!
If this task cannot be passed today, whether it is in terms of time or cost, it will be difficult to say whether the reward of 1200 silver coins is worth it.
"Maybe we should learn from Brother Tomorrow and the others," Mosquito said with a sad face, looking at Mole standing beside him, "I chatted with Bunny yesterday, and they didn't use that much when they were venting the ruins of the greenhouse. People went to pile up, although some ammunition was spent, but the calculated cost is not much higher than ours.”
Said Mole, shaking his head.
"Brother Mosquito, this statement is wrong. You think they are sharing their game experience with you, but you don't know that they are just distracting you. Elite tactics? You don't even look at the configuration of their teams. A set of exoskeletons of the same style as Managers, A mechanical compound bow that is the strongest in the entire server, a mechanical hand that maximizes the output of the intelligence department, and... the highest perception player of the entire server."
"This kind of hexagonal team, what tactics are you discussing with them? Their output alone is three, and it is bloody money to ensure that they don't die. If we learn from their style of play, this task can last until next month. Listen to me, if you don't have enough equipment, you have to use the sea of people to make it up, there is no shortcut!"
I understand the truth. But still so envious!
With an expression of envy and hatred on his face, Mosquito couldn't help but yelled.
"Hey! This group of hateful Rich people!"
Mole also nodded, and said in agreement.
"Really? Now you understand the importance of balance, right?"
The output of that manipulator is unreasonable, and the thrown objects in his hand are almost turned into shells. Has the planner really considered the feelings of players in the power department? There is also that mechanical compound bow, which is more powerful than a gun. It can penetrate armor and throw explosives. Ammunition is cheap. Is it reasonable not to cut a knife!
Of course, if he can be rewarded with a set of equipment of the same level or even better after completing the task of shelter 117, then he has said nothing.
Martin, who was in charge of pulling monsters before, finally checked his results, and happened to hear the conversation between the two when he came.
Although he didn't understand at all, he still excitedly made up a line.
"The right strategy of the sea of people will always work!"
"Martin, you are a newcomer to join in the fun, do you understand your own sequence?" Envious of other people, Mosquito didn't want to talk nonsense, and stuffed a handful of coins into his hand, "Take it! No need to look for it!"
Martin counted, one copper coin more this time, not bad, he said with a smile.
"Thank you boss! I wish the boss a fortune!"
Hearing this phrase of getting rich, the eyelids of the stimulated Mosquito twitched again.
Get rich? If he continued playing like this, let alone getting rich, he would almost go bankrupt!
Seeing Mosquito's pain, Mole, who felt the same way, sighed and patted him on the shoulder lightly.
"Come on, victory is just around the corner. I have a hunch that the money for this mission may not be lower than that of the greenhouse ruins, and we will definitely earn it back by then!"
Mosquito looked up at the sky and let out a long sigh.
"I wish."
In fact, Brother Mole's words were not entirely comforting him. Victory was indeed within sight.
There are sixty-seven gnawers killed this round, which is much less than yesterday, and the agile newcomer named Martin spent more than twice as long pulling monsters below as compared to yesterday. Obviously, the density of alien species is not as high as it was a few days ago.
Mole reckoned in his heart that if the situation was optimistic, it would take two more rounds at most to finish this task.
It happened to be lunch time, and the young players who participated in the strategy took a break, walked into the abandoned shop on the side of the road, and boiled a pot of boiling water with the charcoal they brought and the branches they picked up.
The newbies need to save money to buy equipment, and most of them are reluctant to buy expensive supplies. The dry food they bring is mainly green wheat cakes or scones made of croissants.
Although this kind of dry food is not nutritious and tastes very ordinary, it is convenient. Whether it is thrown into the pot and boiled into a paste, or directly hugged and gnawed, it can fill the stomach.
There will be a low blood sugar debuff on an empty stomach, which will affect the output. Players are going to wait for the dry food before starting the next wave of offensive.
However, at this moment, neither Mole nor Brother Mosquito noticed that a group of heavily armed mercenaries were quietly entering this area on the road just one street away from Tundra Street subway station.
They were not many in number, only eight of them. Although their equipment was not the most elite, it was more than a little bit stronger than the stragglers roaming the wasteland. Not only were they equipped with automatic weapons, two of them carried thigh-thick bazookas on their backs, which were quite powerful.
It can be seen that their boss spent a lot of money and learned the lessons of the last failure. Not only did they hire a stronger mercenary group, but they also bought air tickets to and from the northern suburbs for this group.
Their task is simple.
Arrive at Tundra Street Subway Station, clear out the alien species below the Subway Station, then enter Shelter No. 117, and return to the extraction point with the contents inside.
In fact, if the situation is optimistic, they should have completed this task two days ago. However, no one expected that there was still a group of people who were also targeting shelter 117.
Those people seem to be from the newly rising survivor forces in the northern suburbs of Spring City. According to the train-talking host of Boulder City Radio, these people not only killed the Bloody Hand clan, but also killed the mutants on Street 76. They even hooked up with companies passing through the northern suburbs.
Although those people's equipment is very weak and their own side has obvious advantages, no one dares to take it lightly.
Especially yesterday, news came from the scouts who went to the high-rise building to establish a sniper point, saying that they had discovered a target suspected of being an awakened person.
Awakened!
As the captain of the twelve, Prieter felt that things might not be as simple as imagined.
Without doing anything immediately, they occupied a half-collapsed building along the street, placed a radio station, and established a temporary command post here, and got in touch with the scouts who arrived at the front line first.
"Carl, is the awakened person from yesterday still there?"
After waiting for a while, the scout's voice came from the communication channel.
"It's gone... I suspect that he hasn't fully awakened, but there are already signs of awakening."
Prieter said in a low voice.
"What is ability?"
Carl replied.
"It may be related to the intuitive department or the spiritual department."
Intuitive or spiritual.
Prieter frowned tightly.
The so-called awakening refers to the "Alienation" of part of the body's traits, showing some characteristics different from ordinary people.
There are many possible causes of awakening, the more common ones are the use of genetic improvement agents, or the activation of the survival instinct at a critical moment, resulting in the dominant expression of the unactivated segment of the gene segment.
Compared with the "Risk-controllable" mechanical prosthesis transformation, awakening is undoubtedly a road full of thorns. Although it can bring powerful power, it is not without cost.
However, it is undeniable that the awakened ones are really difficult to deal with, especially the spiritual and intuitive ones. Many abilities are so strong that they are unreasonable and hard to guard against.
Just like the energy weapon branch in light weapons!
"The group of people is preparing for the second wave of offensive. I feel that they have almost cleaned up the alien species under the subway station... Boss, when are we going to do it?"
Prieter said calmly.
"Don't panic, wait for them to draw the alien species out from below."
It may be a genius idea to lure the aliens out from under the subway station to set fire, but these people obviously don't realize how big the movement they made and the loopholes behind their buttocks.
Prieter's thinking is clear.
They don't need to confront those survivors head-on, they just need to wait quietly for the alien species to come out, and take advantage of the survivors waving cold weapons to rush up and kill them out.
So what if there are awakened ones?
Eating these survivors and aliens in one bite is as easy as eating a sandwich biscuit.
Thinking of this, a faint smile appeared on Prieter's face.
He will teach these survivors a lesson. Why do people say that someone who pursues immediate gains while neglecting greater danger behind will soon meet lady death!
