Fifteen minutes later, Jiang Ling dragged an unconscious humanoid creature out of an alley unharmed and returned to the square where the completely scrapped jeep was parked. She stopped when she passed by several buckets of clean water placed on the ground, threw the objects in her hands aside like throwing sacks, and then used the clean water to clean the blood stains on her exoskeleton.
The three nervous-looking people immediately surrounded him. After a round of greetings, Gu Chen poked the half-dead man on the ground with a crowbar. After finding that he was still alive, he asked her, "Who is he?"
Jiang Ling said without looking up: "He is the key."
"key?"
"Well, this guy put an iris lock on the garage. I didn't bring the right tools, so I couldn't dig out his eyeballs. I had no choice but to ask him for help." Jiang Ling explained coldly, and while saying this, she once again grabbed the back of the man's head with her wet palms and dragged him to the other side of the square without saying a word.
Several people hurried forward. Comrade Xiao Wang coughed a few times as if to attract her attention, but it didn't have much effect.
After unlocking the garage door, Jiang Ling twisted his useless head 270 degrees and casually threw it somewhere where it would not get in the way. Then he couldn't wait to bend down and get into the slowly opening electric rolling door and turn on the light inside.
In her opinion, the situation in the garage was slightly different from what the dead guy had said, but the three people who entered the garage a step later only saw four Abrams vehicles in plain camouflage stored side by side in the front. They were amazed at the well-preserved state of these vehicles that could be placed in a museum, and for a moment they completely forgot the purpose of their trip.
Fortunately, a complete team only needs a more reliable leader. When Jiang Ling drove the ACV-32 tank out from the depths of the garage, the three unguarded "armed civilians" were immediately distracted by her roar.
"Brothers and sisters, get in the car quickly, the wind is blowing, let's retreat!"
Looting like this was commonplace on this continent. After the group left, the people, having recovered from their loss of consciousness, quickly accepted the camp's owner's death and began collecting and counting the remaining property. Of course, that wealth wouldn't belong to them, but to the next person in control of the place. That person might be a tax collector who regularly visited, or a "newcomer" who had wandered in—if he could establish himself.
In reality, those without "power" here have no human rights to speak of. It was so before, and it will be so after. The only difference is the meaning of "power." Those struggling to survive here struggle to recognize reality. They live in a numb and vain fantasy, distracting themselves with all sorts of stimulating substances, dreaming of one day swapping places with those at the top of the pyramid, even if in reality they remain stuck. After all, those who "possess" them often deceive them, believing that "power" comes from hard work and struggle.
What Jiang Ling saw in that small building was truly indescribable. If she had to describe it, calling it a picture scroll from hell wouldn't be an exaggeration. She wouldn't tell the others about this, but sooner or later they would understand the fundamental difference between the community and this place.
Out of caution, she headed west after leaving the cannibal camp and never stopped near any place similar to it.
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