Chapter 550: It's Too Cold
Chapter 550: It's Too Cold
Fatty could manage production and consumption on the spot because of the large number of people on his side. But An Ran’s group couldn’t. The supplies they had collected along the way filled several cars—strung together, they were like a small train, except it wasn’t running on rails.
That was why An Ran was absolutely unwilling to hand everything over. Zhan Lian’s hard work collecting supplies couldn’t just be squandered.
But the weather kept worsening. If they didn’t enter the base soon, they risked running into a disaster or some other problem they wouldn’t be able to overcome. Her plants were sluggish now, frozen in the soil and hibernating like animals. If a large-scale mutant outbreak occurred, it would be even more troublesome.
“How about this,” An Ran said after thinking for a while to Luo Feifan. “Let’s find a place to store our supplies.”
Fatty had already dug several caves in the tunnel. An Ran placed the cars there and sealed the entrance. The base wasn’t far from the tunnel, so if they needed anything, Zhan Lian could fetch it.
Luo Feifan nodded. It was the only option left. If, after a few days, they found the base unsuitable, they could simply return to the tunnel, retrieve their supplies, and leave.
They discussed it and decided to enter the base.
At daybreak, when the snow and wind had eased a little, they loaded the vehicles and set off.
The order in which people departed was arranged by Fatty. An Ran didn’t know exactly who went in the first vehicles—probably the people Fatty sent ahead to gather information.
She listened absentmindedly to Fatty’s complaints about how terrible the base was.
Its walls were indeed built by a handful of earth-type ability-users, and the gates had long been sealed. In weather like this, no one expected survivors to dig a tunnel through.
To the base, they were nothing more than a cumbersome, ordinary group.
At the wall, the base casually opened a small side gate, barely wide enough for two people to pass through at once, and posted a few people to register names and take temperatures.
But Fatty, determined to cause trouble, ordered everyone to get off the buses as slowly as possible. The buses stopped at the foot of the wall, and the occupants trickled down one by one. Anyone with a big belly had to pause and rest after just a few steps.
He was clearly trying to freeze the registration staff at the small gate to death.
Before long, those in charge of recording names and taking temperatures were impatient and numb with cold. Their hands stiffened, and they simply gave up on registering properly. Some didn’t even bother taking temperatures—just glanced over the people, saw nothing unusual, and waved them through.
The procession of over six hundred people moved painfully slowly. It wasn’t until evening that everyone finally made it inside. The registration staff had rotated several times by then, and only after that did the supply inspection begin.
But Fatty’s group was poor—truly poor. While not skin-and-bones, they had little worth taking. Each person had a quilt and a few down jackets draped over them. Were those worth confiscating?
The rest of their belongings were mother-and-child essentials: sanitary napkins, toilet paper, milk powder, bottles, and baby food. There was no point in demanding those.
The supply registrar, practically dozing at his desk, squinted at the endless line of burdens and let his contempt show plainly.