With these five guns in hand, Miles felt a new level of security.
Once the apocalypse arrived, humanity would face not only the degradation of morals and the collapse of civilization but also unimaginable dangers.
In his previous life, he had witnessed a zombie with ghostly pale skin, etched with dark veins, tear through the throat of a neighbor with a single bite.
It had taken fifteen lives among the residents of Cloud City to bring down that single zombie. And that was just one. As time wore on, their numbers would only grow, perhaps enough to spell the extinction of humankind itself.
In a world where anything could happen, one thing was certain—stronger weapons meant a greater chance of survival.
By afternoon, Majesty Construction's team had mobilized.
A large shipment of materials and equipment arrived at the villa's entrance.
Fortunately, this upscale residential area granted homeowners complete autonomy over their properties. Even if someone decided to tear down and rebuild, as long as the floor space didn't expand, it was negotiable.
Naturally, the neighbors were intrigued.
"What's happening at Miles' place? Is he tearing down his house?"
"He probably has money to burn, wants a remodel, I suppose?"
"Ha, more like he's bored. If he were truly wealthy, he'd move to Section A instead of renovating. People who get lucky like that lose all sense of reality."
This commentary came from the hefty woman next door.
Rumor had it her family had made their fortune in mining, with her husband marrying in as a kept man. She was notorious for her domineering ways, quick to belittle others.
Others, however, took a more civil view. "It's his money; he can spend it as he likes. Though, this does seem like a large-scale project—there'll probably be some noise."
"Exactly," the hefty woman snorted, her face wobbling with indignation. "It better not disturb me, or there'll be hell to pay!"
A few days later, Ella caught wind of it too.
While irritated, she couldn't help but feel a pang of suspicion.
"I thought Miles was bankrupt. How can he afford a villa remodel?"
Her mother, ever sharp-tongued, chimed in, "He's faking it, that's all. No money, yet still flaunting like this. Must've lost his senses."
Ella's father added thoughtfully, "Or perhaps he never went bankrupt at all?"
A glimmer lit up in Ella's eyes. "He lost his company, the house is mortgaged—what else could you call that but bankruptcy? Still… where is this remodeling money coming from?"
A hundred theories flashed through her mind.
After some deliberation, she shrugged. "Let's pretend we didn't notice. He signed the contract. If he can't pay, we'll sue him… As for his plans, I'll find a way to test the waters. But let's stay out of his affairs to avoid unnecessary complications."
She wanted nothing to do with Miles, and, fortunately, Miles had no interest in her either.
Over the past few days, he'd been laying low in a hotel, methodically planning.
After studying the floor plan of South Logistics Park, Miles devised the most efficient route for his operation.
The goods from Unicity Trading had been discreetly transferred to his spatial storage, unbeknownst to anyone.
Over the next few days, he frequented the logistics park under the pretense of inspecting the warehouse, regularly meeting Ryan for drinks and meals.
Gradually, he gleaned a wealth of details about the South Logistics Park.
Located fifty kilometers outside the city, near the port, this park rarely saw any visitors outside import and export activities.
It held almost every commercial category present in the U.S. market.
Pharmaceuticals, food, beverages, alcohol, hardware, machinery, cars, drones, diesel generators, foreign gasoline, rare metals—even a government tobacco warehouse.
Following the principle of "take what you can," Miles intended to leave nothing behind.
After all, who knew what the world would look like in the coming years of apocalypse?
With the world changing, humanity's needs would only grow, making this the perfect time to prepare.
One evening, as Miles and Ryan were deep in their cups, his phone suddenly rang.
"Hello?"
"Hi, is this Miles?"
A saccharine voice purred from the other end.
"Yes, this is he. And you are?"
"It's Zeki, Ella's best friend. You haven't forgotten me, have you?"
Zeki?
Miles shook his slightly foggy head, recalling her faintly.
Women like Ella, with her high-ranking beauty, naturally surrounded themselves with similar types.
Though these women were mostly two-faced, full of jealousy and rivalry, they maintained a facade of sisterhood to exchange resources.
Take Miles, for example. He had originally met Ella through one of her female friends.
In hindsight, he realized they'd probably pegged him as an easy mark from day one.
His expression remained neutral as he asked coolly, "Yes, I remember. What's the matter?"
A brief pause, then, "Ella borrowed two hundred thousand from me a while back, but it's been months, and I really need it now. Is there any chance…"
Two hundred thousand?
Miles had to laugh.
With their lifestyle, these so-called "socialites" either spent money on designer bags or lingerie, constantly upgrading their "gear" to lure rich men.
Two hundred thousand? These women would be lucky to scrounge up twenty thousand for a rainy day.
It didn't take him long to figure it out.
Ella must have heard about his extensive villa renovations and, suspecting he might be faking his bankruptcy, sent someone to probe him.
A wicked smile crept across Miles' face.
"Oh, I see…"
Miles pretended to hesitate, then murmured softly, "Ella, is this a convenient time to talk?"
"What?"
An uncertain voice responded on the other end.
Without waiting for a reply, Miles continued, "I've got something urgent to handle—let's talk later."
After hanging up, his grin grew even wider.
Ryan, bleary-eyed, glanced at him. "Miles, what's going on? Why the eerie smile?"
Miles chuckled, raising his glass. "Nothing, just had a bit too much. Come on, drink up."
If his hunch was correct, Ella had likely been right there when Zeki called.
And his seemingly innocent line—"Ella, is this a convenient time to talk?"—was sure to spark suspicion, leading Ella to wonder if he and Zeki had something going on.
Now, things were getting interesting.
When it came to high-level manipulations among these "frenemies," sometimes all it took was a single phrase.
These seasoned players knew each other's moves all too well; a raised eyebrow was enough to reveal intentions.
Tonight, it seemed, some people were in for a sleepless night.