Wilson stood in shock, staring at the armored behemoths around him. "Holy crap!"

The two soldiers beside him were equally baffled.

The shorter soldier stared in disbelief. "Sergeant, how did they even manage to get those beasts onto the road?"

Wilson grumbled in frustration. "If you ask me, who the hell am I supposed to ask?"

The other soldier, with dark skin, looked utterly dumbfounded. "Okay, I get it if they brought in modified vehicles, but a tank? Where did they get that?"

At that moment, a tantalizing scent of fried eggs wafted through the air.

Wilson couldn't help but swallow hard. "So that's where the smell of fried eggs is coming from! Damn, no wonder those survivors are acting like they're losing their minds!"

The short soldier's eyes gleamed with envy. "Why don't we just go and take it from them?"

Smack!

Wilson slapped the back of the short soldier's head, exasperated. "You trying to get us killed? Stay the hell away from me and don't drag me down with you! What's wrong with your brain? Anyone who can drive four vehicles around and fry eggs isn't a common civilian—clearly, they're powerful superhumans. You've had enough of life, but I'm not done yet!"

Before the apocalypse, someone driving a flashy sports car might have just been a broke kid pretending to be wealthy with a rental.

But this was different.

Anyone eating fried eggs had to be someone significant!

The dark-skinned soldier shrank back, muttering under his breath, "Even if he's strong, we've got guns, right?"

"What good are guns against a damn tank?" Wilson retorted, nearly laughing out loud. "You think with our current predicament we can just waltz in and grab those eggs without consequences? You think we're getting free food? No way! The eggs are a valuable commodity in this world!"

He continued, "They either have incredible ice powers preserving fresh eggs for weeks or they're raising chickens themselves. That's even scarier! Other survivors can't barely feed themselves, yet they're raising chickens? That's a display of some serious strength!"

A gasp escaped the two soldiers.

"Sergeant, your brain works well!"

"Duh!" Wilson puffed out his chest proudly, adjusting his holster. "Otherwise, how would I be leading while you two are just foot soldiers?"

"Sergeant, do you think we could snag a bite of those fried eggs? I haven't tasted fried eggs in ages."

"Dream on! Even to someone like them, eggs are a precious commodity. They're not just going to hand it over to us. Come on, let's go and pay them a visit!"

As Wilson led his two soldiers towards the convoy's open space, they were stunned by the sight.

A massive mutated husky sprawled on the ground, soundly asleep!

What was a mutated animal doing here?!

The husky raised its head at the sound, its white eyes sweeping over the three men.

They froze in place, too intimidated to move.

Wilson felt a bucket of ice water splash over him, sending chills down his spine.

This beast had muscles rippling like a nightmare, with an icy gaze and the heavy breath of a charging bull.

Such a powerful mutated animal would take five superhumans and ten soldiers just to bring down in the 910 base.

Fortunately, the husky returned to its slumber, remaining still.

Wilson and the soldiers released a breath of relief.

Just then, James Lone emerged from the tent with a plate of fried eggs, slapping the dog on the head as he passed. "You're supposed to be on guard duty! You let everyone in while you're napping!"

Wilson nearly cried out in panic.

No, don't wake it up!

To his utter astonishment, the husky uttered a disgruntled whine, tucking its tail between its legs and trotting away like a scolded puppy.

The three men were dumbfounded.

James Lone shot them a knowing glance. "What do you want?"

As he took a bite of his fried eggs, he suddenly threw the entire plate of eggs onto the ground, grumbling, "Who cooked these? The salt isn't even dissolved!"

What a waste! Wilson could hardly contain his irritation as he glared at the scattered eggs on the ground, practically wanting to grab James by the collar and yell.

If you're not going to eat them, hand them over to me!

The two soldiers swallowed hard, eyes wide.

April rushed out in a fluster. "Master, I made those. I'll fry some more right away!"

The three men were left dumbfounded.

This beautiful woman looked incredible and, more importantly, so pristine!

Her clean clothes, fluffy hair, and meticulous makeup made her seem like she had just come from a vacation—far removed from a world torn apart by disaster.

As April spotted the three soldiers conversing, she instinctively placed her hand on her holstered gun, eyeing them cautiously. "Master, what do they want?"

James Lone calmly replied, "It's nothing; you all head back into the vehicle."

"Yes, Master," they complied, rushing back to their seats.

The soldiers couldn't tear their eyes away.

A horde of beautiful women! A horde of clean and well-fed women! A horde of women living in comfort!

Wilson's assessment of the man before him raised significantly.

This was terrifying!

In such an era, being able to care for so many women to this extent was nothing short of remarkable!

So many striking beauties!

This man must possess immense power!

The three of them felt a swirl of envy and longing, yet none dared to show it on their faces.

Once the women had retreated into the vehicles, James turned his attention back to Wilson.

Wilson quickly put on a smile, "I'm Wilson, the commanding officer of the 33rd Company of the 910 unit. I've been sent to New York City to establish a supply point and assist survivors on their way to the base. How can we be of service?"

James Lone smirked slightly.

This guy was sharper than he seemed.

"Service? No need for that, but I do have a few questions."

Wilson's face transformed into a mask of eagerness, "Of course! I'm happy to help—ask away, and I'll disclose everything I know!"

James smiled disarmingly. "What's your ability?"

Wilson was taken aback.

How does this guy know I have abilities? Is he trying to intimidate me?

He hesitated, finally responding, "I'm sorry, but that's military confidential. According to 910's regulations, I can't disclose that."

James nodded slightly.

Not revealing it was understandable, and not outright denying it showed at least some honesty.

"How many soldiers are at 910, and how many civilians?"

"Uh... I really can't discuss the numbers of soldiers, but the civilians are around a thousand."

"How many of them are superhumans?"

"This..." Wilson felt uncomfortable answering such questions; they weren't exactly casual inquiries!

"Just a moment." James grinned, stepping back toward the vehicles under the pretense of retrieving something. Instead, he produced two cigarettes from his spatial storage and handed them to Wilson. "Here, Commander Zheng, enjoy a smoke."

Cigarettes! Wilson's nostrils flared as he greedily breathed in the scent of tobacco.

Unlike alcohol, cigarettes spoiled quickly.

Countless habitual smokers had been forced to quit, which was a miserable experience.

Now, to a smoker, cigarettes were equivalent to gold!

Wilson was a smoker. So were the other two soldiers.

Their eyes widened with desire.

James Lone resumed his inquiries. "How many superhumans are at 910?"

The three exchanged glances.

Wilson made a difficult decision. "My rank is too low for specifics, but there are between 120-150 superhumans among the soldiers and Zhu Family Village residents. I can confirm that."

James laughed heartily. "I like honest friends! Monroe, prepare three plates of fried eggs for the gentlemen!"

Monroe quickly chimed in, "Of course, Master."

Fried eggs! The three soldiers' eyes lit up, drool pooling in their mouths.

James Lone persistently asked, "Who's the leader of the military? Who's the strongest superhuman?"