The stall owner was a middle-aged man, thin as a monkey, with a greasy, shiny leather jacket that reeked of stale, strange odors.

He picked at his teeth with a grimy finger, making smacking sounds, his murky little eyes scanning every approaching person with a mixture of wariness and greed.

The stall was a mess, piled with worn-out old maps, broken communicator parts, and several bottles of strangely colored liquid.

Xiao Han stepped forward expressionlessly and tapped on the oil-stained, scratched wooden tabletop with a bent finger.

“Tap, tap.” The tabletop gave a dull thud.

“I need to ask about something,” his voice was calm and brooked no argument.

Wan Shi Tong lazily lifted his eyelids, his murky eyes sweeping over Xiao Han and A Mo, lingering for a few seconds on their clean clothes, a calculating glint in his eyes.

He grinned, letting out a dry chuckle, revealing several yellowed teeth, and a foul stench wafted from his mouth: “Asking about something? Alright. You know the rules, right? My information is never cheap.”

Xiao Han raised his chin slightly: “The base’s leader, and the distribution of forces in each district. The more detailed, the better.”

Wan Shi Tong’s eyes spun even faster, like a rat spotting its prey. He held up three withered fingers and waved them in front of Xiao Han.

“This much.”

He seemed to feel it wasn’t enough, so he greedily added another finger, making it four, and his voice rose: “Four hundred points. Or, two unopened cans of beef stew, it must be pre-apocalypse braised flavor! Not a single cent less, no deal!”

His tone was matter-of-fact, his greedy face nauseating.

Xiao Han’s lips curved into a faint arc, and he let out a scoff.

The scoff was very light, yet it was like a needle pricking Wan Shi Tong’s bluster, and the smugness on his face froze.

“Four hundred points?” Xiao Han leaned slightly forward, resting his hands on the dirty tabletop, looking down at him, “Why don’t you just rob someone? Your pathetic stall isn’t even worth four points.”

Each word was like an ice shard hitting Wan Shi Tong’s face.

Wan Shi Tong’s face first turned red, then green, and he stiffened his neck, putting on a brave front: “Hey, kid, be polite! My exclusive information is fair and square! Buy it or don’t, get lost, don’t waste my time!”

He tried to be tough, but his trembling voice betrayed his inner weakness.

Xiao Han said nothing more, slowly raising his hand, closing his five fingers into a fist.

His knuckles made a faint, clear “crack” sound, which was particularly jarring and loud in front of the stall.

A Mo, who had been silent, took half a step forward.

His tall figure instantly cast a deep shadow, completely enveloping the small, thin Wan Shi Tong.

A Mo remained expressionless, simply staring at the stall owner as if looking at a dead object.

All color drained from Wan Shi Tong’s face, leaving him pale as a sheet.

His Adam’s apple bobbed violently, and he swallowed with a “gulp,” cold sweat instantly breaking out on his forehead and sliding down his dirty temples.

The pretense of arrogance vanished in an instant.

His legs trembled, his knees went weak, and he could barely stand, swaying precariously.

“Uh… B-Brother… Let’s… talk nicely…” His voice trembled, incoherent, and he forced out a smile uglier than a cry, fawning and terrified, “Then… the price, well, it’s negotiable! Everything’s negotiable!”

Xiao Han raised an eyebrow, his clenched fist not loosening: “Now, how much do you think it’s worth?”

“No… No money! Not a single cent!” Wan Shi Tong shook his head like a rattle-drum, “Whatever you two brothers want to know, I… I’ll tell you everything! Just consider it… making a friend, my apology!”

He frantically fumbled under the stall, pulling out a greasy, dirty hardcover notebook, his fingers trembling as he flipped it open, the pages almost crumpled.

“The b-base leader is called… Lei Laohu, an ability user, short-tempered, kills without batting an eye… He directly manages District A, District B is managed by his second-in-command, nicknamed Scorpion, and District C… District C is just a lawless dump…”

Wan Shi Tong spoke, quickly glancing at Xiao Han and A Mo, his words rapid, as if eager to spill everything he knew, not even daring to omit any whispered rumors.

After listening, Xiao Han pulled a small, low-quality energy bar from his pocket and tossed it onto the table.

The energy bar landed with a “clink” and rolled twice on the stained tabletop.

That thing was worth, at most, five points.

“Take it, to buy your silence,” his voice was cold.

Wan Shi Tong looked as if he had been granted a great pardon, nodding and bowing repeatedly, his hands trembling as he picked up the energy bar, clutching it like a treasure, his face filled with the relief of having escaped a disaster.

“Thank you, Brother! Thank you for the reward, Brother! Walk slowly, Brother!”

Xiao Han no longer looked at him, leading A Mo directly away.

After walking a few steps, he could still hear Wan Shi Tong’s obsequious thanks behind him, particularly jarring in the noisy market.

According to Wan Shi Tong’s information, Xiao Han and A Mo wound their way through several turns until they reached a relatively spacious open area.

At the edge of the open area, against a wall, stood a huge, weathered metal board.

The board was densely covered with many paper slips of various colors, like a patched-up rag.

The area in front of the metal board was crowded with people, noisy and bustling, and the air was filled with the pungent smell of sweat mixed with cheap tobacco.

“Everyone, get the hell out of the way! I’m taking that red one!” A burly man with a scorpion tattoo on his arm roughly pushed aside those blocking his path.

“Why should you! I saw it first!” A skinny man next to him shrieked, unwilling to back down, but his voice was quickly drowned out.

Xiao Han stood on the outskirts of the crowd, observing the chaotic scene.

This was clearly the “Mission Release Point.”

He saw someone struggling to the front, tearing off a slip of paper, then grumbling as he pushed his way out and ran towards a temporary shack nearby. A sign reading “Mission Registration Office” hung at the shack’s entrance, and a drowsy guard leaned against the doorframe.

“It’s like fighting for cabbages at a wet market,” Xiao Han murmured.

His gaze swept over the colorful paper slips, finally resting on an inconspicuous, slightly yellowed slip in the very corner.

A Mo followed his gaze.

Xiao Han’s lips moved almost imperceptibly, and he began walking towards the metal board.

Xiao Han’s gaze fell on the different colored paper slips.

White, gray, yellow, red, and even a few pure black slips were pinned at the very top, untouched.

He stopped a young man who had just pushed his way out of the crowd, sweating profusely, clutching a gray paper slip.

The young man was startled, and seeing Xiao Han and the towering A Mo beside him, a wary expression appeared on his face.

“W-What do you want?”

Xiao Han pointed to the large board: “What do those papers mean?”

The young man paused, then showed a look of disdain, as if to say “you don’t even know this,” but after glancing at A Mo, he lowered his voice and quickly explained: “The colors represent difficulty and reward. White is the lowest, just odd jobs, cleaning trash, the points given are pitifully small, just enough to not starve.”

He shook the gray paper slip in his hand: “Gray is a bit better, you might have to go to the base outskirts to collect specific supplies, it’s a bit dangerous, but the reward can get you a few energy bars.”

“Yellow, the danger level goes up, you have to deal with lone zombies or small mutated insects, and if you’re unlucky, people die, but the reward is good.”

“Red, those are tough nuts to crack, clearing small zombie hordes, or hunting mutated beasts with a bit of a reputation, it’s a nine-deaths-one-life situation, but the reward is enough to let you live comfortably for a while.”

He swallowed, his eyes darting towards the black slips at the very top, with obvious fear: “As for black… those are suicide missions. It’s said that very few people who take them come back alive to turn in the mission. They’re all impossible goals, like venturing deep into some large nest or something.”

Xiao Han nodded: “How do I take one?”

“If you see one you like and can reach it, just tear it off!” The young man gestured with his chin towards the shack next to them, “Then go over there to register, and when the mission is done, come back to report and collect your reward. First come, first served!”

After saying this, the young man ignored Xiao Han, carefully tucked the gray paper slip into his pocket, and hurried towards the registration office.

Xiao Han looked at the chaotic metal board, then at the drowsy registrar next to it.

He twitched the corner of his mouth, finding the base’s management style to be truly full of post-apocalyptic crudeness and… comedy.