Chapter Twenty-Eight: Shen Dong

"I think you owe me an explanation about everything that’s happened, and as for that Shen Dong—he’s clearly not just a deputy captain, is he? What’s his real connection to your Huo family?" I fixed my gaze on Huo Bing as I spoke.

Huo Bing pondered for a moment before replying coolly, "If we’re talking about the Old Era, then yes, our family did have ties to the Shen family. My father and Shen Dong’s father were close friends. Both families were merchants, well-matched in status. In fact, I nearly became Shen Dong’s fiancée once..."

From Huo Bing’s account, I began to piece together the tangled web. Shen Dong was a returned overseas aristocrat, and he’d once served in special forces. Highly educated, wealthy, and battle-tested—a paragon of excellence. Had the Collapse never come, his life would have been brilliant.

This young lord’s heart, however, belonged only to Huo Bing, who was five or six years his junior. I couldn’t help but wonder if he had a penchant for sweet young things. Unfortunately, while the feelings were mutual, Huo Bing—though a bit pampered—was also rebellious. The more you tried to get close to her, the colder she’d become.

Listening to her describe herself, I almost burst out laughing. By all rights, with Shen Dong’s qualifications, no woman would refuse him—except, of course, for this little mule named Huo Bing.

Then came the Collapse. Huo Tian and Shen Dong’s father joined hands to build an underground enclave here. Fortunately, the space had already been prepared—a disused air raid shelter they’d acquired together before the Collapse, which they’d begun expanding even before everything fell apart.

That’s where the trouble started: who would take charge of the enclave? It wasn’t enormous, but could just about house a thousand people. After several rounds of negotiation, the two leaders struck a compromise—Huo Tian would handle internal affairs, managing rules, resource allocation, accommodations, and drafting survival protocols.

As for Shen Dong’s father, he held command of the armed forces—the scavenger squads and the enclave’s security teams.

In the wasteland, nothing is more vital than supplies and firepower.

The Shen family thus retained their top-dog status, holding the real power. With the might of arms, who would dare defy them?

But during a scavenging mission, Shen Dong’s father met a mysterious end—an accident, they said, but he died under strange circumstances out there. The mission’s plan and risk assessment had been flawless; the odds of casualties were low. Yet, by some cruel twist, it was Shen Dong’s father who died.

That was when Huo Tian struck back, seizing the chance to wrest control of the scavenger teams. But those squads were packed with Shen family loyalists—prying them loose was impossible.

Huo Tian, though, had his own loyalists within the enclave—the security forces were mostly under his sway.

Eventually, a compromise was reached: when appointing a new captain, they chose someone loyal to neither side—a rising figure among the scavengers, respected by the lower-tier residents, named Tong Jia.

Shen Dong remained as deputy captain, but in truth, neither Tong Jia nor Huo Tian could control him. Outwardly, he kept up appearances, spoke politely—but the moment he left the room, no one could rein him in.

Shen Dong’s failure to take over the scavengers was simply a matter of old age and cunning—if his father had been alive, Huo Tian wouldn’t have managed such a maneuver. But once his father died, Shen Dong was no match for Huo Tian.

"So, the split between your father and Shen Dong’s father sowed irreconcilable discord. Otherwise, I figure if you’d just married Shen Dong, the families would have united and none of this mess would exist." I spread my hands in exasperation. After all, this was just a family feud.

Now, the situation was clear—Tong Jia, the nominal captain, was dead. Shen Dong was stirring up trouble again. Judging by the scavengers’ attitude today, things were about to ignite.

All it would take was a spark, and the entire Enclave would explode in violence—a bloodbath.

That’s why Huo Tian worked so hard to maintain balance, using this selection process for captain so everyone would accept the result.

But… even if Shen Dong lost, would he take it lying down? Would he do nothing as his chance to control the enclave’s armed forces slipped away?

"There’s no way our families could ever unite," Huo Bing said, her voice low. "I’m a woman, Shen Dong’s a man—if we joined, the Huo family would disappear without a trace. Besides, I never liked that blockhead. If my father hadn’t risked his life to save him back then, he’d have died outside long ago. He’s just a white-eyed wolf—ungrateful, impossible to tame." Her expression dimmed.

I pulled out the half-smoked cigar from my pocket, lit it, and took a languid drag, blowing a smoke ring right at her face. There was a certain satisfaction in exhaling smoke at a pretty girl.

She glared at me in mock anger and turned her head away in a huff.

"Let’s talk straight," I said. "Why did your father choose me for this task? And that knife—honestly, it seemed prepared just for me. After all, my Tang sword was crushed by a corpse last time I saved you."

She hesitated. "I told my father about everything you did in ZM City—and, well, I embellished your feats a bit, made you sound especially formidable. With no one in the enclave able to match Shen Dong, your arrival filled the gap perfectly."

So she’d exaggerated my exploits? As if I hadn’t been bold enough already—crushing corpse eggs, blowing up oil depots, outwitting synthesized monsters… Not everyone could pull that off.

Clearly, Huo Tian believed his daughter’s boasts and sent Han Shuqing to my bed as a gesture of goodwill. But sending the whole family—mother, daughter, and a child barely eight or nine years old? In the Old Era, that would’ve been downright perverse.

"Fine, let’s be blunt. What does your father really want from me?" I exhaled, letting the nicotine fill my lungs and make my head spin ever so slightly.

Huo Bing gazed at me intently, her expression shifting before she finally uttered three words: "He must die."

"Killing someone is easy," I said, shaking my head. "But it depends how. Anything else?"

"There is," she replied. "His death must look natural—no one can suspect we had a hand in it. It needs to happen in plain sight, at the hands of something else." She rubbed her temple with her finger.

I smiled. "Simple—kill by proxy. Perhaps it’s time we paid another visit to ZM City, and we’ll be bringing them along as well."