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墨書 Inktalez
Outside Totenburg, the landscape had changed dramatically. The city walls were being reinforced, and the sign above the city gate had been replaced with one that simply read "Totenburg."
A fresh atmosphere began to permeate the gathering.
In the distance, a merchant caravan of about twenty people was slowly approaching, followed by hundreds of riders on Tricycles, and even more on Trolleys.
Each vehicle was loaded with goods, covered in gray tarpaulins that concealed their contents from view.
At the center of the caravan was a luxurious large vehicle, pushed by a dozen people. It resembled a rather opulent Recreational Vehicle from the Post-Apocalypse era, but it had been modified significantly. All the heavier items had been unloaded, greatly reducing its weight.
Even so, it still required over a dozen Second Tier Superpowered Individual s to pull it.
These Superpowered Individual s wore black band-like restraints around their necks. Their eyes lacked any color or expression, resembling robots. Only their occasional breaths, weary faces, and the sweat dripping onto the ground revealed that they were indeed alive.
"Which Mudbug Gathering Place are we at now? Hurry up and get in there to save those who are dying, then gather a group. I brought thousands of Essence Fruits; we can add a hundred or so people to our team and switch vehicles next time we head out," commanded a rotund Fellow from the driver's seat of the Recreational Vehicle.
All those on the Trolleys began to cheer loudly, praising their master.
Only those pulling the Recreational Vehicle wore expressions of true despair.
They knew that life ahead would be even more difficult. They couldn't even choose to die because the restraints around their necks prevented any movement. Everything felt stripped away from them, as if they had become mere toys.
"This place has no name. It's just a Mudbug Gathering Place. The low Essence Fruits here sell quite well; I'm sure our Essence Fruits will earn us a good profit," said the Fellow, pointing ahead with his right hand.
But at that moment, he noticed a large truck speeding past them without so much as a glance, crashing into the Gathering Place across the way!
Surprise and fear washed over him.
In the Post-Apocalypse world, trucks were quite common; however, now they seemed terrifying. He had no idea who could operate such vehicles, but he was certain it wasn't someone like him, the leader of the Chamber of Commerce.
"Let's go take a look!" The Fellow steadied himself slightly but was determined not to return empty-handed.
After walking a few dozen meters forward, he spotted two Gatekeeper Superpowered Individual s.
It looked quite ordinary, dressed in an exaggerated outfit reminiscent of something from a post-apocalyptic movie, wielding a weapon in hand.
What the hell is this! Does he have some kind of special fetish? Is the leader here out of his mind?
He paid no attention and began to walk forward.
"Who are you! Stop right there and submit to inspection. Every item must be tested for the Zombie Virus before you can pass," the guard said with a stern expression.
Looking at the person in front of them, they certainly did not have a pleasant demeanor. What kind of person is this? They knew all too well; they had been active in the south for a long time. However, as they encountered more Survivors and Gathering Places, they naturally gained a lot of experience. These people were definitely not good individuals. The guards looked like they were here to swindle money.
More importantly, they were certainly not legitimate merchants, as merchants wouldn’t use such luxurious vehicles. At most, they would use some Human-Pulled Carts for their business.
But looking at the Fellow across from them, it was sheer extravagance. Moreover, the Laborers in the middle section of the Trolley clearly showed signs of their slave status.
They all bore obvious Emblems on their bodies, and some had Special Devices around their necks.
In the Hope Gathering Place, there were such Superpowered Individual s who had been restricted by the entire Gathering Place. More often than not, they were guided to use their abilities in ways that evolved towards what was needed. They were not meant to be used recklessly against their own Superpowered Individual s.
Their abilities would eventually evolve into Taming or Hypnosis types.
However, this Fellow in front of them was going against that trend. His abilities were likely very useful Combat Abilities.
Yet to bind humanity, his evolution had begun to take a very strange direction. Until now, he had even started to raise slaves.
This was absolutely forbidden in the Hope Gathering Place.
But he wasn’t part of their faction. It wasn’t wise to engage in conflict with other factions simultaneously; forming alliances and strategies was always prudent.
So they dared not target him too aggressively.
It was just that for these people in front of them, inspections could be much stricter. What should have been an easy check would inevitably require multiple inspections.
The entire efficiency at the city gate slowed down as everyone was arranged into the Quarantine Room for isolation.
Additionally, fees were charged for disinfecting all items.
"You are charging us forcibly, fifty Essence Fruits! I absolutely refuse to agree!" The fat man glared at the guard in front of him, his face twisted with anger.
This was simply outrageous. Everyone had to undergo disinfection and a one-hour quarantine—was this some kind of joke?
The time to turn into a Zombie was half an hour. A brief quarantine at the city gate was understandable; everyone had to go through it. The original Gathering Place did not have such measures, but since the Hope Gathering Place took over, there had already been a short Quarantine Room established.
However, this was clearly not right; they were actually requiring disinfection. What on earth was this? The cost of Venom treatment was not low, and being forced to spend like this was quite painful, especially with such a large population base.
"This is a regulation within the Gathering Place. Large Merchant Groups must undergo a one-hour quarantine and disinfection upon entering the Gathering Place. All goods must be tested by the equipment within the Gathering Place. If any viruses are detected, entry into the Gathering Place is prohibited," the guard said expressionlessly. His gaze towards the Survivors had begun to grow cold.
Those Survivors must have been restricted by some means; their Hearts were all covered with a black substance that looked like dirt, which could not be washed off.
Everyone proceeded with caution during the inspection.
The fat man remained unyielding, his face turning red as he prepared to lash out at any moment.
Outside, cars entered directly into the vehicle disinfection lane and reported in before proceeding.
"You are treating us differently! How come those people got in without going through inspection?" It seemed he had finally found an excuse, and the fat man shouted loudly. (To be continued)
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