Miles had every means to quash this insidious depravity in its infancy.
At this moment, he was nothing short of a god to these people.
And a god could reshape destinies, perhaps even human nature itself.
But even gods had limits.
He could intervene this time, but what about the next? The ever-shifting sands of human nature were beyond even divine control.
Miles addressed Ryan, his tone decisive:
"Don't meddle in what happens out there. As long as they're delivering zombies, let things play out."
Ryan, of course, dared not question him.
He instructed the zombies to be herded into the neighboring villa, paying no mind to the cacophony of a terrified woman's screams emanating from within.
Forced to share a space with ravenous zombies, she and her frail husband fled soon after. They would rather freeze to death than endure such horror.
From his radio, Ryan's voice came through again:
"Miles, time to distribute the roast chicken."
Silence. Only the sound of heavy breathing came in response.
"Miles? Are you listening?"
"..."
"Ugh!"
Miles groaned, irritated by the interruption. His voice, hoarse and low, finally replied:
"What's the rush? A little wait won't kill them. Let them stew!"
"Uh... right," Ryan stammered, momentarily taken aback by Miles' unusual temper.
But when the unmistakable sounds of shuffling cards and muted laughter filtered through the line, Ryan chuckled knowingly.
"Never mind, boss. Carry on, carry on..."
After about half an hour, Miles's labored sighs returned to the radio, followed shortly by a bag of provisions tossed from a second-story window.
Anthony and his crew eagerly collected their prize and left, faces alight with satisfaction.
But Sini lingered, glancing at the villa with a furrowed brow.
Something didn't add up.
Anthony's blatant manipulation of the system surely hadn't escaped Miles's sharp gaze.
So why hadn't he put a stop to it?
To turn a blind eye was practically inviting exploitation, akin to leaving a bug in the system unpatched.
Even with endless supplies, Miles couldn't possibly sustain such wasteful indulgence, could he?
But Sini had miscalculated. Miles's resources were not just abundant—they were beyond imagining.
That evening, in Sini's villa, a youthful man with striking features knelt behind her, massaging her shoulders. Despite his handsome face, dark circles beneath his eyes betrayed his exhaustion.
"Sini, it's already the seventh day," he murmured.
Reclining in her chair, eyes half-closed, Sini basked in the warmth radiating from the brazier before her. Her elegant composure belied her forty-something years, exuding the allure of a woman in her prime.
"Seven days already..." she mused, running her fingers along his hands. "That means Miles has distributed over a thousand rations by now."
The young man gasped.
"That much? How much does he have stockpiled?"
"Far more than that."
Her eyes glinted with sharp cunning.
"Since the apocalypse began, his villa's lights haven't dimmed for even a moment. Heating systems, electricity, everything's still running full force."
The nation's infrastructure had long since collapsed, leaving no trace of centralized water or power. Even facilities capable of surviving the cold were under government control, inaccessible to ordinary people.
"Even if he's self-sufficient," she continued, "just keeping the heat running in this weather would burn through an unimaginable amount of fuel."
Using a diesel generator as an example, powering such a well-equipped villa would require at least twenty barrels of fuel daily—not to mention other resources.
"But isn't he supposed to have two million units of supplies?"
Before the man could finish, Sini scoffed.
"At this rate, two million wouldn't last two years. Not even two billion would be enough if he doesn't plan for the long term."
Her expression darkened.
"Miles is too calculating to leave himself vulnerable. His stash must be far greater than anyone suspects."
A sudden thought struck her.
"Remember the day before the snowstorm hit? That massive heist at the South Logistics Depot?"
The young man nodded eagerly.
"Our company had beauty products stored there. I even called to inquire, but they assured me it was covered by insurance, so I didn't press further."
Her gaze sharpened.
"What if... what if Miles was behind that heist?"
The man's eyes widened in alarm.
"That... actually makes sense. It explains why he has so much!"
Everyone knew Miles had raided the Weidu Commerce reserves.
But those supplies alone couldn't account for the sheer volume of fuel, food, and luxuries at his disposal.
Sini's thoughts raced.
"If he moved everything before the storm, it must be hidden somewhere safe. That's the only explanation for his extravagance."
"If we could find it..." the young man began, his voice tinged with excitement.
Sini's expression turned fierce before softening into a calculated smile.
"Not yet. If Miles is this confident, his stash won't be easy to access. Better to negotiate first... perhaps we can strike a deal."
The next morning, the zombie-hunting teams resumed their work with renewed fervor.
Having tasted the rare luxury of roasted chicken, many were now obsessed with capturing more zombies to exchange for food.
Some scavengers worked tirelessly, day and night, determined to find their next reward.
Meanwhile, Ryan led a small group, mostly overseeing their activities.
Sini approached with two companions in tow, her smile disarming yet sly.
"Ryan, could I borrow your radio? I have something important to discuss with Miles."
Her sultry demeanor made Ryan hesitate.
"What do you need Miles for?"
Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.
"I've come across a piece of information I think he'll want to hear."
Ryan frowned.
"What kind of information?"
Sini leaned closer, her gaze seductive yet calculating.
"It's about the South Logistics Depot..."
His reaction was subtle but telling. His eyes widened for just a moment before narrowing again, his body stiffening.
She'd struck a nerve.
The hint of panic she detected confirmed her suspicions: Miles was hiding something big.
Sini pulled back, her smile as radiant as ever.
"I only wish to speak with him directly. Surely you understand."
Ryan shook his head firmly.
"Miles doesn't have time for this."
His swift denial only solidified her theory.
With a sly smirk, she replied,
"Are you sure? I imagine Miles wouldn't want this information... getting out."