"Wot, come down," James Lone called, thinking it over. "There's a group of traveling merchants arriving; let's go check them out."

Wot was surprised. "Merchants? Are there still people selling things out here?"

"If there are people, there will be trade," James Lone replied, casting a glance at the crowd.

Among the small group of merchants, there was an ability user whose power seemed to be support-based. The form of their power orb was bizarre, constantly changing in shape—something James Lone had never seen before, sparking his curiosity.

In the nearby woods, about 100 meters away, a group of fully armed men lay in ambush. These men were equipped with proper weapons like fire axes and steel spears, and they carried some bottles that looked like they contained alcohol—presumably for a purpose not yet clear.

Among these ambushers was also an ability user whose aura burned bright, indicating a composite constitution of around 20-30, significantly stronger than an average person. Moreover, he had three abilities, two related to fire and one involving toxin creation.

James Lone couldn't determine whether these men were coming for the merchants, the survivors, or if they were protectors of the small vendors. So, he decided to proceed with caution.

If this were the past, he would have certainly avoided such situations, unwilling to take unnecessary risks. However, with his growing array of abilities and increasing attributes, a single or even a duo of ability users posed little threat to him anymore.

He planned to investigate the situation further, especially intrigued by the latter user with such high physical capabilities. How had he managed to increase his constitution to such a level?

James Lone took out a handgun and a bulletproof vest, handing them to Wot. "You take the lead; I'll pretend to be your bodyguard. If anything comes up, I'll let you know through our mental link."

Wot hesitated. "Is there danger?"

James Lone smiled faintly. "Anyone willing to trade in these times must have the means to protect themselves. Who knows if they might turn from trading to thievery? Besides, there are two ability users nearby; it's better to be cautious."

Wot felt a slight nervousness but quickly composed himself. After surviving this long, he was well aware that sometimes survivors could be far more dangerous than nature itself.

Wot donned the bulletproof vest, concealing the handgun beneath his clothing as he stepped forward. James Lone fell back and acted as his bodyguard, following him toward the merchants.

Upon arrival, they found a bustling scene. Hundreds of survivors had gathered in a small clearing, with even more arriving by the moment.

People were coming and going, reminiscent of crowded rural markets of the past. The sounds of haggling echoed all around as James Lone and Wot navigated through the crowd, momentarily recapturing the essence of bygone days.

Of course, the atmosphere had darkened a bit; the traders and buyers all seemed far more formidable, armed with weapons, and many bore fresh blood stains from their encounters.

Unlike the rest, James Lone and Wot appeared relatively clean, which made them stand out. However, as James Lone prominently displayed his firearm at his waist, other survivors wisely gave them space, and no conflicts arose during their passage.

James Lone keenly observed the various stalls and the exchanges between survivors and merchants. Most survivors were visibly impoverished, lacking anything beyond a few precious food items.

Yet, it was apparent that some survivors thrived—these individuals were invariably burly young men.

With bulging backpacks stained with dark blood, they wielded various weapons, forming small groups with serious expressions that made it clear they were not to be trifled with.

The gathered merchants numbered fewer than fifty, each one wearing a black cloth armband, likely indicating they belonged to a specific survivor group. They each sold different commodities: water, food, weapons, clothing, insect repellent, and even "gourmet" food options, such as a foul-smelling leafy vegetable.

Among the most shocking discoveries, a bearded merchant had brought three women. The women sat despondently on a tree stump, their eyes cast down.

The bearded man shouted, "Come see! Clean women for trade! One pack of instant noodles each!"

"Half a loaf of bread? Are you kidding me? Half a loaf? It's covered in green mold by now!"

"Expensive? I'm telling you, look at their faces! I even washed them this morning! Using proper purified water! Look! Just take a good look!"

"Hey! You three, lift your heads up! Don't sulk! Let the gentlemen see you! Crying? What's there to cry about? Just being alive is already a win!"

An impatient man examined each of the three women closely before finally choosing the one with the largest chest. Desperately, he cried, "Here! One pack of instant noodles! Where do I go?"

The bearded merchant gleefully accepted the noodles, pointing to an area behind him set up with a makeshift curtain made of black fabric.

Guarding that area were two menacing figures wielding machetes.

"Go on in, brother! But remember, half an hour only!"

The impatient man grumbled, "Half an hour? That's nothing!"

One of the machete-wielding men glared. "What, you think you can sleep in there too?"

Furious, the man snapped back, "Damn it! In the past, I'd have longer than half an hour. Give me back my noodles; I'm not doing this!"

The two machete-wielders brandished their knives, grinning menacingly. "You can back out; just get lost! Think you can request a refund? Not a chance!"

Fuming, the man had no choice but to concede, pulling the women into the curtained area. Anger soon turned to aggression directed at the women, and before long, their screams echoed from within the curtain.

"Ah! Be gentle! Please, don't hurt us!"

The machete men showed no concern for what transpired inside. One leaned in, took a glance, and gave a lewd grin. "Looks like this guy has some energy!"

"Hahaha!"

...

Wot's expression darkened; as a traditional Chinese medicine practitioner, he held disdain for such actions. Yet, he felt powerless to intervene.

Order had broken down. The weak could only be preyed upon and exploited by the strong.

James Lone remained unimpressed by the display.

Was this not the same as in the era of peace? The powerful exploited the lower tiers by any means available.

Now it was simply shrouded in a veneer of civilization and technology.

The survival of the fittest; society had always been this way.

Soon, they stumbled upon the busiest stall.

There, ten boxes of canned goods of various flavors were displayed, and the vendor was a short man with triangular eyes, shouting with passion.

"Wholesale canned goods! Beef, luncheon meat, and ten types—pick as you please! Let me know how many you want, and send someone to pick them up!"

A swarm of survivors swarmed around, asking questions and haggling prices.

Wholesale canned goods?

Where on earth did they get so many cans?

Would they truly be willing to sell such valuable items?

Wot observed James Lone with a quizzical expression.

James Lone calmly assessed the vendor, recognizing him as the ability user with support powers. He directed his mental link toward Wot: "Let's go check it out."