Resentment

The Shelter upgrade is complete.

The room was quiet; there was no wind or unusual noise.

The newly upgraded Black Iron Fortress has an excessively stable structure. Standing inside, you can directly feel its solid and heavy feel. This is not just psychological comfort; it's a real increase in building strength.

I've been busy all day, killing monsters, collecting materials, and upgrading my Fortress; my nerves have been on edge the whole time.

Lu Heng planned to have a nice meal and relax.

He went to the Cellar, took out the Monkey Wine he had stored, and put it into the low-temperature storage area.

Drinking it at room temperature is too dry; chilling it makes it taste smoother, refreshing and satisfying.

He then picked out several pieces of Bronze Tier exotic beast meat from the Storage Slot.

These are all supplies accumulated from previous desperate hunts; there aren't many, and each piece was hard-won.

He went into the Planting Room.

The fast-ripening chili peppers in the field had only just sprouted; the vines were thin and soft, the leaves tender and green, and the small peppers that had formed were only the size of a fingertip, not fully grown at all.

But the shape is already formed, and the spicy base is there.

Lu Heng casually picked a few.

It'll do; as long as it's spicy enough, it's fine.

Back at the stove, I started a fire, heated the pot, and added the meat.

The sizzling sound of the oil popping as it heated up was particularly clear in the quiet room. The aroma of meat slowly wafted out, mixed with the pungent smell of green chili peppers—not luxurious, but the most comforting taste in the apocalypse.

After more than half an hour of fussing, dinner was ready.

The chilled Monkey Wine was taken out of the Cellar; the bottle was cool to the touch.

The moment you open the bottle, the aroma of fruit bursts out first, sweet and clean, followed by the mellow aroma of wine, not overpowering, with a deep and lingering aftertaste.

Lu Heng sat down, eating meat heartily and sipping wine slowly.

After a few sips of wine, a warm feeling slowly rose from my stomach.

This Monkey Wine is much milder than ordinary wine, smooth on the palate, but with a very strong aftereffect. In no time, all the fatigue was washed away, the body relaxed, and the mind felt slightly lightheaded.

This was the most relaxed moment he had experienced since the end of the world.

With nothing to do, he casually opened a public chat channel he hadn't used in a long time.

The screen was flooded with messages, mostly useless stuff like asking for supplies, looking to team up, or begging for help.

Until a pinned announcement caught my eye.

It was an appeal initiated by a group of people who remained from the Old Federation.

The content is quite respectable, stating that a brand-new Survivors' Alliance will be established, focusing on helping elderly survivors and providing them with care, shelter, and resource support.

The words and phrases appear benevolent, dignified, and selfless.

In the instant the alcohol took effect, the pent-up resentment that had been building up in Lu Heng's heart for years was suddenly unleashed.

He stared at the words, and the more he looked, the more irritating they became.

He typed directly on the screen, without restraint or hesitation, sending out every word bluntly.

"What? Did that generation expect to have everything?"

"In the old days, there was no need to pay into the pension fund, and retirement pensions were ridiculously high, allowing for an easy and dignified life."

"The Federation has long been rotten to the core and is completely gone. Now that we've come to the apocalypse, everyone still has to support you in your old age?"

"Who are you, God?"

"It was one thing to lord it over ordinary people in the old world, but now that we're in a desperate, apocalyptic world, do you still want to maintain your privileges?"

"Before, you had guns, rules, and 7.62mm bullets to intimidate people."

"It's gone now."

"Now we have knives, crossbows, and the will to fight to survive."

"He's worse than an outsider, spending his whole life sucking blood from the poor and exploiting the underprivileged, and he still wants to keep doing it?"

One paragraph has been sent.

Lu Heng let out a soft burp.

My head was completely spinning, my eyelids felt heavy, and I felt dizzy all over.

He knew he had said a lot of truths he shouldn't have said in the public chat; they were too impulsive, too blunt, and too likely to cause trouble.

But the effects of the alcohol were uncontrollable, as was the resentment.

Too lazy to check the reactions in the group chat, he slumped over and slumped onto the edge of the table, instantly falling into a deep sleep.

He's asleep.

The channel exploded.

Lu Heng's drunken confession was devoid of flowery language or inflammatory rhetoric; it was simply a straightforward and heartfelt expression of his grievances.

But it is precisely this straightforwardness that accurately struck a chord with the pent-up frustrations that countless survivors had kept hidden for years, feelings they dared not express and had nowhere to confide in.

There was a moment of silence in the channel.

Immediately afterwards, the screen went blank.

The first to be affected were a large number of ordinary people who had experienced life at the bottom of society in the old era.

They worked diligently their whole lives, endured pressure their whole lives, and were controlled by the rules their whole lives. They witnessed injustice, suffered in silence, and endured countless days of helplessness.

Lu Heng's initiative gave everyone the courage to speak up.

Some people were the first to dig up old stories from the past that had been completely suppressed and banned across the internet.

The Fishhook Incident, which was a hot topic of discussion across the country at the time, quickly fell silent and was hastily concluded, leaving countless people with pent-up anger but nowhere to voice their opinions.

Following this, the controversy surrounding the Nanhe Red Cross Society resurfaced, revealing hasty public notices, perfunctory explanations, and a pile of doubts, ultimately leading to its abandonment.

Then, the shady practices of companies hiring people with physical disabilities to evade taxes were exposed one by one on the public screen, laying bare the exploitative rules that ordinary people in the old era could understand but were powerless to change.

Finally, the issue of grain depot fires in various places was brought up one after another.

Every fire, every time something is handled carelessly, every time no one is held accountable, the losses are glossed over, and in the end, it is always ordinary people who pay the price.

One, two, three, four.

One by one, true stories that had been buried, suppressed, or deleted were completely unblocked in the uncontrolled public channels of the post-apocalyptic world.

No one took the lead in instigating it.

It is countless survivors from the lower classes who spontaneously recall, provide evidence, and file accusations.

The dignity, privileges, and shackles imposed on ordinary people in the old era were all exposed and laid bare.

The perfect persona of "helping the elderly and being selfless and benevolent," which was originally created by the group of Federation remnants, was instantly shattered.

Everyone reacted instantly.

This group of people reaped all the benefits of the old era, and now that the end times have come, they still want to use personal connections and morality to continue to monopolize resources and be supported by others.

The channel's sentiment has completely reversed.

Those who had been sporadically speaking up for the Federation personnel just moments before vanished without a trace.

Countless people began to analyze the situation, take sides, and vent their anger.

It turns out that it's not about who's pitiful and who should help.

This group of people, from beginning to end, only wanted to continue enjoying their privileges.

The ID "Lu Heng" was instantly remembered by everyone.

Nobody knew him before.

Solo survival, low-key development, never joining any fandoms, never speaking.

But tonight's drunken confession shattered the facade of hypocrisy within the entire survivor community.

The entire internet's attention is focused on this unfamiliar ID that suddenly appeared and dared to publicly expose its true colors.

The public opinion storm escalated, the speed at which it spread across social media accelerated, and old and new conflicts were brought to the forefront.

Some remember kindness, some harbor resentment, some observe from the sidelines, and some secretly plot.

Lu Heng, who instigated all of this, was completely unaware.

He slumped over the table, and fueled by the alcohol, slept soundly and deeply.

The night was deep outside, and the lights inside were quiet.

A cataclysmic event, capable of altering the entire landscape of the survivors, is taking shape in the dead of night, unnoticed by anyone.