Talent?
On the bus home, Cheng Ye rubbed his aching ribs, abdomen, arms, and thighs…
Alright, every part of him hurt.
“This isn’t talent, it’s all my sweat and effort!”
Cheng Ye’s lips curled into a smile.
Though painful, he relished it.
Compared to endless stagnation, if pain brought such strength gains, what was a bit more pain?
But he quietly resolved to find a skill to quickly recover his physical condition.
Otherwise, even if his combat ability grew, he’d be a five-second hero, needing half a day to recover after one fight.
“Also, getting dragged into the East-West faction conflict so early is bad news.”Thinking of this, Cheng Ye gritted his teeth in frustration.
Garcia was a genuine idiot, brainlessly used as a pawn and dragging Cheng Ye into the spotlight with him.
Now, beaten into the infirmary by Liu Bi, who in the checkpoint would stand up for him? Who’d dare?
Behind Liu Bi stood the entire Eastern faction, led by Station Chief Ding Yishan!
Deputy Chief Harlin? Would he dare send someone to put Liu Bi in the infirmary too?
Or target Cheng Ye to match Garcia’s fate?
Impossible. That would only give Ding Yishan more leverage to seize greater control.
The Western faction might be dominant, but not enough to trample the Eastern faction.
As long as Ding Yishan was station chief, the Western faction could only chip away slowly, building Harlin’s influence, never daring to spark open conflict.
Only if their roles reversed, Harlin as chief, Ding as deputy, would the balance shift significantly.
“Forget it, why dwell on this?”
“Big B’s right: no scheme beats raw strength. If I could hang Garcia up and thrash him, none of this would’ve happened.”
For now, the external duty in two weeks was his priority. Survive that, and he’d have time to figure out how to navigate and profit from the faction struggle.
Cheng Ye took two deep breaths, pushing faction politics aside, and looked out the window.
The rain intensified at night, with visible puddles forming on the roads.
Happiness City’s buffer zone was large compared to other sanctuaries, but the recent influx of survivors had exceeded its capacity.
Under the eaves of buildings offering shelter, canvas tents crammed with numb, hollow-eyed people stretched endlessly, no trace of hope for the future, no hint of the so-called “happiness.”
“Happiness… it’s fake.”
Cheng Ye recalled Edmond’s dying murmurs from yesterday.
Happiness might exist in this sanctuary, but not for these bottom-tier residents.
Only by clawing their way into the inner city’s high walls could they find a sliver of peace in this chaotic world.
Buzz.
The bus slowed, stopping five stations short of the Electronics Factory Workers’ Compound.
The middle-aged driver turned, shouting to the passengers, “Sorry, flood defenses have blocked the bus route through the main district. Everyone needs to get off here and walk.”
The doors opened, and Cheng Ye disembarked.
Less than a hundred meters from the bus stop, sandbags blocked the road, leaving only a narrow passage.
Four armed guards stood on either side, alongside two buffer zone workers.
“Sir, due to flood defenses, we’re strictly controlling foot traffic. After 8 p.m., entry to the main district requires proof of residence.”
This strict?
Cheng Ye was surprised but quickly understood.
The main district, formed by three intersecting old-era pedestrian streets, was packed with residences, malls, and shops. Its aging drainage system couldn’t handle a flood of refugees. If a severe flood hit, water couldn’t be cleared.
Controlling traffic now ensured order could be restored quickly if flooding occurred.
When his turn came, Cheng Ye didn’t pull out his room key for verification but instead flashed his checkpoint ID badge.
The round badge bore Happiness City’s Great Wall on the front, a bold “Inspector” character on the back, and an embedded chip for authentication.
“Oh, a checkpoint official!”
The worker scanned it with a defense comm, seeing the prompt, and became instantly deferential.
“With the rain worsening, if you need anything, call the Works Department via your comm. We offer 24/7 emergency services.”
“Thanks, you’re working hard.”
Cheng Ye nodded, taking back the badge and moving forward.
His black raincoat hid most of his face, but the pale skin on his forehead drew envious glances from refugees in roadside tents.
Even in the buffer zone, with its mere ten-kilometer span, there were divisions: outer suburbs, inner suburbs, urban areas, and the main district.