Two Pieces of Good News

Leon recounted his experiences over the past few days to the two doctors, along with his plans for the near future.

Of course, he couldn't claim to be prescient and inherently know the locations of those two survivor camps. Instead, he glossed over it with the excuse that he had encountered members from both camps before entering the CDC.

The two doctors listened, both shocked and impressed. During the time the military helped defend the CDC, they had witnessed the terror of the zombies firsthand—swarming in hordes, fearless of death, relentless unless their brains were destroyed, bullets barely slowing them down.

This led to the US soldiers, who had no time to equip heavy weapons, being quickly routed under the surging tide of zombies. Panic and fear shattered their resolve, and they fled in haste, abandoning this bastion of hope against the zombie virus.

Yet this man before them, in just four short days, had traversed hundreds of kilometers, gathered over forty survivors in a zombie-infested city, and seized nearly a thousand tons of supplies.

This was nothing short of a miracle.

Melpha's eyes flickered, even her usually stern and cold expression softening slightly. She thought for a few seconds, then said:

"Leon, if you want to renovate the ground buildings, you'll definitely need a lot of construction materials. I know a place—about two kilometers from here, in the industrial zone, there's a small metal building materials factory that processes various types of metal building materials. I'll mark it on the map for you later. Go see if you can find what you need."

"As for recruiting people, we can help with that too."

"We have a high-power radio here, originally used for communication with official organizations, but it's probably not needed anymore."

"You can take it and set up a radio communication network. I recall its range is about 500 kilometers without a wireless network. Sorry, Jenner and I aren't experts in this field, so we don't know how to use it. You'll have to figure it out on your own."

After hearing Dr. Melpha's words, Leon was overjoyed. The twelve sets of radio communicators he got from the King County Police Station had a range of only 5 kilometers, usable only within the same base. Even so, he treasured them and had barely used them until now.

But with this high-power radio, they might achieve real-time communication within 500 kilometers.

Unfortunately, he didn't know this technology either, and among the talents he knew, no one was skilled in operating devices like radios.

Finding a specialist in a post-apocalyptic world where the population had shrunk to less than a thousandth of its original size was like searching for a needle in a haystack.

"Thank you, Dr. Melpha, Dr. Jenner."

"In the next few days, you can make a list of daily necessities you need, and I'll allocate them from these supplies."

"Don't be polite—I'll give you the best quality."

The two doctors were among Umbrella Corporation's most valuable assets, worth his effort to win them over.

Dr. Melpha's face bore a slight smile as she nodded gently, not refusing.

"Thank you, Leon."

"I'll go organize it and send it to you tonight or before dark tomorrow."

"No problem, Doctor. I'll take my leave now."

On the way, Leon thought about the radio again.

Among all the characters in the story, only Eugene seemed to have a chance with this.

But now, finding Eugene, who was in another state, was nearly impossible.

This plan had to be shelved for now.

Leon felt a bit dejected, then remembered another piece of information Dr. Melpha had mentioned.

He just wondered if the metal building materials factory two kilometers away had the materials he needed.

Well, since there was nothing major after these busy days, he might as well take a day to scout it out.

After dinner, Leon didn't generously arrange for the employees to rest in the luxuriously decorated private lounge on the third floor. Instead, he temporarily settled them in the tourist activity room on the first floor, which had sofas, a TV, a pool table, an indoor basketball court, and other entertainment facilities. For the current survivors, this was already a luxurious environment, and no one dared to complain.

Even if they grumbled privately, he didn't care.

Leon Castor wasn't a saint. He didn't save people for justice or sympathy. As the boss of Umbrella Corporation, he deserved the best house, the finest food, the hottest and most beautiful women, and the flattery and service of countless people.

Otherwise, what was the point of working so hard to save this world?

With that thought, Leon brought his beautiful little assistant, Miss Amy, to his exclusive private floor.

A 2,000-square-meter luxurious private space—something Leon had only dared to dream of in his sleep.

Solid wood floors and furniture, genuine leather sofas, soft wall coverings, plush carpets, silk curtains, golden crystal chandeliers. Though it was an office building meant for receiving guests, its interior decoration was still high-end and luxurious, clearly costing a lot of time and money.

Leon was inwardly amazed by the extravagance and indulgence of capitalism, but his face remained calm and composed.

He took his little assistant on a brief tour, then pointed to a small, luxurious bedroom next to the master suite and said to Amy:

"Miss Amy, during your time as my personal assistant, you may use this room."

"But until my personal chef and maid arrive, you'll be responsible for both their tasks."

"That means you'll handle every meal for me, take care of the cleaning here, and prepare all the daily necessities I need."

"I know this period might be tiring."

He looked at the girl, whose mouth was slightly open as if she had turned into a statue, and said with a smile:

"But you should know, I'm a generous and open-handed boss."

"After a month, if your work satisfies me, I'll promote you to a C-class employee. You'll be the first promoted employee of Umbrella Corporation."

He patted her shoulder, then walked over to the luxurious executive chair behind the desk and turned on the computer.

"Don't just stand there. Go get all the employee files from my car, along with the supply inventory you've compiled."

"We need to establish a reasonable internal currency supply system within three days."

"You're an economics student, aren't you? This should be your strong suit."

Amy turned her head somewhat dazedly, staring at her black-hearted boss. That handsome face, usually so captivating, now looked like a demon to her.

She shuddered as if waking from a dream—how terrifying. These past days, she had worked so hard, losing sleep for several nights just for him, and yet this guy still wanted to pile three more jobs on her.

This bastard should be strung up on a lamppost.

Amy clenched her fists.

"Is there a problem, Miss Amy?"

The little assistant trembled twice, then silently turned and trudged toward the stairs, responding weakly:

"Okay, boss. I'll go now."

Sure enough, a working person can never escape the fate of being exploited.