The man radiating killing intent was named Clark Kent. He came from Moen City in the Free State.
In that city overrun by rats, he had managed to organize a fighting force that had not only survived the infestation, but was steadily growing. That alone spoke to his strength.
Clark Kent's muscles were extraordinary. This was an innate gift, nothing those pinheaded steroid junkies could ever compare to.
He soon stepped out of the crowd.
"Before you vote for this woman, I suggest you think it through."
"Does a dead person deserve that many votes?"
"Don't forget, the person explaining the rules said we could use violence to win the election."
"My name is Clark Kent. I protect a lot of people in Moen City."
"I can protect you too."
That wasn't very convincing. Wen Xishu had initially thought Clark Kent's muscles seemed more persuasive than his mouth...
But then Clark Kent immediately demonstrated the savvy of an apocalypse survivor:
"I'll make just two points. First, I have the strength to protect all of you. Look at where we are, everyone. This seems to be just one floor of an office building."
"How do you know the Three Towers Company doesn't have other floors?"
"Could people in lots of different districts be interviewing too?"
"Don't forget, the rules are simple: your points only need to stay above zero. Assuming that's difficult..."
"Then perhaps what makes it difficult is a system that lets people plunder each other."
"In other words, we might have to compete with other districts."
"And in a competition, what do you think matters more? Medical skills or fists?"
"Second, this beautiful woman may have medical skills, but did you notice? The first thing she said was about showing off those skills for political leverage, not using them