The mood in the warehouse was still sour when they woke up.
Two scavenging teams returned with almost nothing. The third team didn't return at all. Silence hung over their empty sleeping mats.
Captain Luo called a meeting. Her face was etched with new lines.
"Our food stockpile will last seven days at half-rations," she announced, her voice echoing in the cold space. "The water filters are failing. We have no medicine for infections. The winter will be here in weeks."
No one spoke. The truth was a physical weight.
"We need a windfall," Lao Chen said, his voice gravelly. "One big score. Not from picked-over shops. From somewhere new. Somewhere dangerous."
"Where?" someone called out.
Captain Luo unfolded a stained paper map on an upturned crate. She pointed to a district across the river. "The old luxury mall. 'Golden Phoenix Plaza.' It has a supermarket in the basement. A pharmacy on the third floor. It was never fully looted because of the density."
"The density of what?" Zhang Wei asked, though he knew the answer.
"Ghouls," Captain Luo said flatly. "Dozens, at least. Possibly a variant. It's a nest."
A collective shudder went through the group. Ghouls were fast, tough, and hunted in packs. A nest was a death sentence for a team of five.
"It's suicide," Zhang Wei stated.
"It's a necessity," Captain Luo countered. "We send our best. Everyone. Not a team. A full expedition. Twenty fighters. We clear a path, secure the basement entrance, and strip it clean. It's all or nothing."
The plan was desperate. It was also the only plan.
The preparations began. The settlement's few good weapons were distributed. Arguments broke out over who would go, who would stay to guard the weak.
Lin Feng was assigned to the "stay" group. The non-combatants. The children, the elderly, the injured. And him.
He should have been relieved. He was safe.
He felt sick.
He watched Mei check the edge of her hatchet. Lao Chen tested the balance of a spear made from a pipe and a kitchen knife. They were going to die for cans of food and bottles of pills.
His hidden cache had resources. Not food, not medicine. But metal. Tools. Components.
He could build things. He had almost reached 100 Metal. The Basic Workshop was within reach. What could he build with a workshop? Could he make better weapons? Could he make something that would help?
A new prompt appeared on his green system screen, as if reading his thoughts.
[Quest Generated: Support the Expedition]
[Objective: Use your resources to increase the expedition's chance of success.]
[Success Reward: +200 IP, +1 Settlement Reputation (Hidden Stat)]
[Failure: No penalty.]
[Accept? Y/N]
It was the system giving him a choice. A moral one.
Helping meant risk. Exposure. Using his power in a way that could be traced back to him.
Not helping meant letting people he knew, Lao Chen, even suspicious Mei, walk into a meat grinder.
He stood by the latrine trench, the stench in his nostrils, and made his decision.
He accepted the quest.
That night, in the deepest dark, he acted. He focused on his system map. His Z-001 was still on standby at the supermarket, a block from the luxury mall. It was his closest asset.
He couldn't give the survivors guns. He couldn't give them armor. But he could give them a chance.
He issued a series of commands.
First, he recalled Z-001 from its long standby. He directed it to move to a construction site near the mall. It's new task: Farm.
But not for metal. For very specific things.
[Task Assigned: Z-001 - Farm Designated Materials]
[Priority: Wooden Planks, Nails, Rope, Durable Cloth.]
The zombie shambled into the site. It began breaking down abandoned pallets. It pulled nails from beams. It gathered discarded tarps and coils of frayed rope.
Lin Feng watched the log. Plank x4. Nail x12. Rope x3 meters.
It was slow. He needed more.
He made his second big decision of the night. He opened the Asset Production menu.
[Deploy Basic Zombie Clone]
[Cost: 25 IP]
His IP was at 76. He spent it.
[Deploying Zombie Clone #003...]
[Current IP: 51/100]
A third green dot appeared on the map. He sent it to aid Z-001. Two zombies worked through the morning, silent and unseen, gathering simple, mundane materials.
By noon, his hidden cache held:
[Wooden Planks: 22]
[Nails: 84]
[Rope: 15m]
[Durable Tarpaulin: 3]
It was not much. It was everything.
As the expedition team assembled at the gate, grim-faced, Lin Feng approached Lao Chen. He carried a heavy, ragged burlap sack.
"What is this?" Lao Chen asked, weary.
"I... I was sorting the deep scrap pile last night," Lin Feng said, avoiding Mei's eyes. She was watching him intently. "Behind the broken generator. I found this. It must have been left by the port workers. Maybe for repairs?"
Lao Chen opened the sack. He saw the planks, the nails, the rope. His eyes widened.
"These are good nails. Thick rope." He looked at Lin Feng. "This is... useful. We can make shields. Barricades. Seal gaps." He clapped a hand on Lin Feng's shoulder. "You have good eyes, boy. This helps. Really helps."
Captain Luo came over. She inspected the materials. A flicker of something relief? crossed her face. "Use them. Quickly. Reinforce the push-carts we're using for loot."
The atmosphere shifted, just a fraction. They had a new tool. A small advantage.
As the team began lashing planks to carts, Mei walked up to Lin Feng. She didn't thank him.
"That scrap pile," she said, her voice low. "I've been through it. Twice. There was no sack. No nails like these."
Lin Feng's blood went cold. "I... I must have dug deeper."
"You must have," Mei said. Her gaze was like a physical pressure. "Or someone put it there for you to find. A mysterious benefactor. The same one who's been picking metal clean without leaving tracks."
She didn't wait for a reply. She turned and walked to her position in the line.
Lin Feng stood frozen. He had helped. He had also taken the single biggest step toward exposure.
He watched the expedition move out. Twenty people, armed with makeshift weapons, pushing nailed-together carts, heading toward a ghoul nest.
He had given them nails and rope. Would it be enough?
The gate closed behind them. The settlement was quiet, filled only with the anxious non-combatants.
Lin Feng returned to his spot. He closed his eyes. On his map, his three green dots were active. Z-001 and Z-003 were now idle, their task complete. Z-002 was still in the factory, a hidden sentinel.
He had metal. He had IP. He had a workshop to unlock.
And he had an enemy who was no longer just suspicious, but actively hunting for the truth.
The weight of the help he had given felt heavy. The weight of the secret felt heavier.