Only the eight-star potion remained.
Crystals of that level were too precious. Even pooling resources, the bosses couldn’t gather eighty. They could only gaze longingly. Ultimately, only Jiang Dabao, Li Long, and Young Master Qing, still waiting for his father’s money, hadn’t given up.
“You brat, if you’re lying to your old man, I’ll break your legs!”
Soon, a loud voice sounded outside. A burly, bearded man barged in, followed by four or five lackeys.
But the moment he entered, his eyes locked onto the potion on the table and didn’t move.
He was an eight-star evolved and had consumed such a potion before—but he’d never obtained a second one.
Perhaps unable to resist, Young Master Qing’s father strode forward and reached for the eight-star potion.
But halfway there, he stopped. Not only that, his expression flipped into a fawning smile at Ye Zhongming before he turned and sat beside his son.
This man, named Hai Dayu, had heard a soul-chilling question during his reach—the man beside Mr. Ye had turned and softly asked, just two words:
Hai Dayu immediately backed down.
If anyone else had said that, he wouldn’t have feared them. But coming from someone who could produce an eight-star evolution potion? He was terrified.
He’d only been testing. If the other party seemed weak, he’d have snatched the potion. But if they were strong, he knew when to fold. A real man knows when to bend and when to stand tall.
Ye Zhongming looked at Hai Dayu, not angry but almost amused. This behavior was all too familiar—it was how post-apocalyptic evolved acted. Even in his past life, he’d been like this occasionally.
But in this life, he was stronger. He didn’t need to be that way anymore.
The stiffness of one’s spine is proportional to their strength.
Before the apocalypse, strength meant money or power. After, it meant fists.
Not long after Hai Dayu arrived, others trickled in—only four, but they were the true pillars of Black Dragon City.
All were eight-star evolved.
At first, Ye Zhongming found it odd that a city had so many eight-stars. But considering the population base, the half-city of mutated lifeforms, and the abundant resources of the icy plains outside, it made sense.
“Extreme Cold!” “Night Kill!” “Blood Hands!” “Holy Snow Mountain!” “Black & White Landscape!”
These were the five major factions of Black Dragon City, each led by an eight-star evolved.
There was one more—Old An of Morning Light Pavilion, also an eight-star. But he was reclusive and rarely seen.
The leader of Extreme Cold was the flexible Hai Dayu, and his son was Hai Qingtian…
The boss of Night Kill was Ah Kai, a cold, lanky man with blood-red hair—likely due to his bloodline—somewhat similar to Red Hair.
Blood Hands’ leader was a woman. Her real name was unknown; everyone called her Yan Shuangfei. She was young, probably not even twenty, with a cute but not stunning face. Her smile curved her eyes into crescents, framed by deep dimples, and her skin was flawless.
But intel from Ye Zhongming’s subordinates yesterday revealed that Yan Shuangfei was the most ruthless person in Black Dragon City, with the highest body count. She lived up to her faction’s name—her hands were drenched in blood.
Holy Snow Mountain’s leader was a serene old man with kind eyes. Yet, across his back and sides, he carried six swords, with a seventh in hand—a striking image.
Black & White Landscape’s boss was nicknamed White Skin, dressed in leather from head to toe.
Their arrival was solely for the eight-star evolution potion. Though they’d already reached that level, they knew the value of adding another eight-star ally—or trading it for something useful.
Seeing Hai Dayu sitting meekly, the newcomers adjusted their attitudes. They didn’t mention the potion at first, instead inviting Ye Zhongming to a banquet at Essence Pavilion.
Ye Zhongming agreed. Soon, the group arrived—not at yesterday’s location, but at another branch specializing in exotic delicacies.
“Speaking of Essence Pavilion, it’s an anomaly. Their headquarters is supposedly in Liancheng, but in the apocalypse, aside from massive commercial groups like Five Ring Money and Cannibal Chain, who’s heard of successful franchises? Yet Essence Pavilion pulls it off, even in this godforsaken northern wasteland. Weird.”
Hai Qingtian stood beside Ye Zhongming, staring at the building and sighing.
The group chuckled without comment. Upstairs, in a spacious hall, they sat and began chatting.
Naturally, the topic was Ye Zhongming. They probed for useful info, but he deflected with smiles, revealing nothing.
He wasn’t being secretive for no reason. This trip had two objectives, and premature exposure could bring unwanted trouble.
When they got nowhere, the conversation shifted to the day’s biggest news: the latest country rankings.
Even the eight-star bosses were stunned—Brother Hei and the others weren’t the only ones.
“Sigh, we’re all just trying to survive the apocalypse, but the gap is ridiculous!” White Skin of Black & White Landscape lamented. “We thought reaching eight stars was impressive, that owning gold gear made us hot shots, that strutting around a city was glorious. But compared to those on the rankings? We’re fucking trash!”
A drink later, his emotions flared.
“Does it really affect us? The north is too remote, and the environment is too harsh. Who knows how long before it becomes uninhabitable? We might have to move south!” Jiang Dabao, who had good relations with the eight-star bosses, spoke casually. The seven-star faction leaders mostly kept quiet and ate.
Such was the class divide.
“Oh? Bosses, I just got back from downtown and missed the news. Fill me in?” Yan Shuangfei blinked her big eyes at the group.
“Shuangfei, listen to your uncle. Stop focusing on killing. At your age, you should be dating. What about my kid? Say the word, and Extreme Cold is yours—I’ll work under you!”
The others reacted with cold smiles. Hai Dayu’s scheme was transparent. Did he really think his son stood a chance with this lethal girl? Even if she agreed, would he dare sleep beside her?
“Uncle, I’ve told you—I already like someone. I’ll go find him soon.”
“Who? Since when?”
“Ye Zhongming of Cloud Peak. He’s definitely my man.”
Splash—Xiao Peng, drinking water, spat it out.