"Uh... Big shot, you can stay here for now. How does that sound? If you need anything else, just let us know."
A Zang covered his swollen, reddened eye and cautiously opened the door to the room directly across from the office.
Lu Bai stood in the doorway and looked around. He smiled faintly, making no comment.
It was clear the room had been converted from an indoor ping-pong court. It wasn't very large, but it had everything: a bed, a table, chairs, and more.
By the standards of the people in this settlement, it was already the finest accommodation around.
After all, most people could only live in shacks they had built themselves.
Lu Bai wasn't worried there might be any traps in the room. He walked straight to the bed and sat down, then said to Brother Biao, who was standing at the door, "Remember to let me know when you're leaving tomorrow."
Brother Biao nodded frantically, like a chick pecking at grain. He was terrified that one wrong move might displease Lu Bai and cost him his life.
"Then we won't disturb you. Get some rest. If you need anything, just say the word. We'll be right across the hall."
Only after seeing that Lu Bai had no objections did Brother Biao close the door as quietly as he could.
The room fell silent.
Lu Bai leaned back and lay down on the bed, letting out a long breath.
"So the Replicants in the Deathmatch Arena are made from these people?"
According to Brother Biao, the so-called Masters provided a set amount of food every month, but they didn't strictly manage the individual settlements.
There were only two key requirements: they weren't allowed to grow their own food, and they had to provide a certain number of