Chapter 115: Fu Gaobin Is a Complete Coward

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"Pfft!" Following Fu Gaobin’s absurd remark, the group couldn't help but laugh. Only Wu Liang remained confused, wondering why Wang Cheng and the two women were amused. He didn't understand the world of the youth, just as the day never knows the sorrow of the night.

In truth, Yang Fan was also smiling. As he carefully observed the group, he felt that ever since he had "reloaded his save," his worldview and everything else had undergone subtle changes. He felt as if he had gained a deeper understanding of life. At this thought, he couldn't help but mock himself—since when had he become so sentimental?

He looked again at Fu Gaobin. Trying to look cool, Fu Gaobin wore a black tailcoat. With his standard melon-seed-shaped face and delicate features, he was generally quite popular. However, in this apocalyptic world, such people were the easiest to envy; if he ran into someone with a fragile ego, he would be in for trouble.

"Why are you staring at me?" Fu Gaobin asked, looking a bit frightened before adding, "Boss, don't you dare..."

"Go to hell," Yang Fan retorted with a chuckle, knowing exactly what he was implying. He stopped talking and sat quietly in the car, patiently awaiting Li Qiang’s arrival.

He wasn't actually resting; he was planning. He knew exactly what would happen in the next ten days or so. His first priority was to have Li Qiang let him choose ten women. The second was to have Wang Cheng and Fu Gaobin recruit some people for him. The third, and most important, was his level. His experience had been completely wiped clean, and he needed to level up quickly, perhaps by using the mutated beasts drawn in by the mysterious stone.

This was crucial. Setting aside equipment, the experience alone was a vast fortune, one that money couldn't buy. At the thought of it, Yang Fan’s blood boiled. He mused coldly, "Chen Hu, this time, I’ll make sure you never return!"

Thinking of Chen Hu and his group ignited a deep-seated fury within Yang Fan. He didn't need to guess to know they were likely torturing others, a thought that filled him with disgust. They had to be killed; there would be no mercy. Having witnessed the deaths of his companions before, Yang Fan had already decided how to kill and torture them.

He suddenly remembered the Painting of Fair Maidens. He wanted to see if everyone was still there. He summoned the artifact spirit, and after a brief exchange, his consciousness entered the painting, where he saw the women undergoing training.

Seeing this, he breathed a sigh of relief. Everything had returned to this point—nothing more, nothing less. After calming down, he immediately found Liu Qiaoqiao and asked her to purchase a Thousand-Mile Sound Transmission Talisman. It was very expensive, and he had no money, but fortunately, she could take out a loan.

Once he had secured the talisman, he sent a message to Zhu Liang and the others. A feast was coming, a massive opportunity, and he couldn't eat it alone—Li Qiang wouldn't allow it. But Yang Fan had a plan: he would take sixty percent, Li Qiang would get twenty, and the remaining twenty would go to Bai Chen, Zhu Liang, and the others. Everything was calculated.

"I truly look forward to the feast in ten days," Yang Fan thought, finally closing his eyes to genuinely relax.

Just as he fell into a deep sleep, the car jolted with a loud *thud* and swayed. Yang Fan snapped awake. When he opened his eyes, the sky was pitch black, with few stars to be seen.

"What happened?" Yang Fan asked, feigning ignorance. Wang Cheng and Fu Gaobin got out of the car, while Wu Liang, as usual, hid inside, terrified of danger.

"The car broke down!" After a quick inspection, Fu Gaobin, who knew a little about mechanics, reported with a grim expression. It was a dire situation; in this weather, if they were stranded, the cold alone—not to mention the threat of mutated beasts—could wipe them out.

No one felt good about it. Yang Fan stepped out, took a look at the car, and without a word, pulled a pack of cigarettes from the window. Turning his back to the fierce wind, he lit one. Each *snap* of the lighter was clear and distinct.

"Brother Yang Fan, what should we do?" Seeing Yang Fan’s lack of fear or urgency, Fu Gaobin guessed he must have a plan. Feeling reassured, he leaned in and lit a cigarette for himself.

"What else can we do? We wait here and see if anyone passes by," Yang Fan said with a casual laugh. He took a deep drag, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke, then cursed, "Damn it, this cigarette burns too fast. I only took one puff and it's half gone!"

Fu Gaobin didn't find the remark strange; he felt that if Yang Fan could joke like that in such an environment, it meant he hadn't lost his mind. If Yang Fan had become cold and heartless, Fu Gaobin would have been worried. He chuckled and retorted, "Damn right. If we ever meet the cigarette manufacturer, we should beat him up for making them burn so fast, right, Brother Yang Fan?"

Inside the car, Wu Liang thought Fu Gaobin’s sycophancy was clumsy, though he didn't bother to say anything. He was busy daydreaming: when would the army find him? When could he suppress Yang Fan and his group, get promoted to an officer, and become a warlord in this chaotic world?

As for Wang Cheng, he found it strange. Before, Yang Fan had seemed like a man weathered by time and hardship, but now, he seemed younger and more vibrant. Wang Cheng pondered this deeply. He was trying to figure out how to win Yang Fan’s approval, to prove he was useful rather than just a worthless follower. If he had to be a lackey, he wanted to be the king of lackeys.

And Fu Gaobin? He was just a sycophant, through and through.