Back in the shelter, a single topic had dominated every conversation since the sun came up.
The upgraded facilities and high-tech amenities had already become an accepted part of daily life for the shelter residents, and even Tom's imposing presence no longer sent people running for cover. But five brand-new faces appearing all at once? That was more than enough to set the rumor mill spinning out of control.
Down in the communal agricultural fields, where rows of survivors cleared brush and prepped soil, tools clinked against dirt to the rhythm of non-stop whispering.
"I'm telling you, they didn't walk through the front gates," a woman muttered, leaning over her shovel to gesture discreetly toward the edge of the field. "I was up at dawn trading ration chits. One second the courtyard was empty, and the next, five of them were just standing by the restaurant doors in matching grey uniforms. Not a spot of dirt on 'em."
"And look at Cindy and Ann supervising us," her neighbor whispered back, casting a nervous glance toward the pair of sharp-eyed assistants standing calmly on a nearby vantage point. "They haven't moved an inch in two hours. No water break, no squinting in the sun. It's like they aren't even breathing the same air we are."
"Do you think Custodian Zhao created them out of thin air, just like she built the bathhouses?" another worker chimed in, lowering his straw hat. "If she can summon three-story apartment blocks in sixty seconds, what's stopping her from making her own people?"
While the residents in the task fields gossiped and speculated, the security team out on the perimeter couldn't afford the luxury of idle chatter.
Unlike the workers, this vanguard unit was comprised of the original shelter members—Zhao Yuan's loyal core team, with Jing Xian right at the front line. Two of the new assistant faces—Mike and Leah—had been assigned to guide them out into the surrounding sector to clean up infectee clusters and search for survivors.
At first, the veteran fighters had been guarded. They were hardened survivors who had weathered the worst of the apocalypse together, and having two pristine strangers in crisp uniforms tagged along to lead their sweep felt redundant.
That skepticism vanished three hours into the run.
While breach-clearing a collapsed shopping mall, a structural collapse triggered a massive horde, drawing over forty mutated infectees out of the dark sub-levels. Trapped in a narrowing corridor, the squad prepared to choke-point the breach with heavy fire.
Suddenly, a massive, fast-moving infectee dropped silently from a cracked ceiling beam, plunging straight toward Jing Xian's blind spot while his attention was pinned on the front line.
Before the monster's claws could land, Mike moved with terrifying, inhuman speed. Intercepting the beast mid-air, he slammed it straight through the concrete floor with a single, devastating blow. Beside him, Leah deployed a compact tactical hard-light barrier from a wrist device, completely walling off a collapsing side-tunnel that threatened to crush the squad's rear guard.
With precise, mechanical efficiency, Mike and Leah coordinated the defense, stepping into the high-risk zones and absorbing the brunt of the heavy strikes so the original shelter members could maintain their firing lines safely.
By late afternoon, the squad had wiped out three dense infectee nests and pulled four terrified, starving refugees out of a collapsed cellar—all without a single member of Jing Xian's team taking so much as a scratch.
When the unit finally marched back through the shelter gates, tired and covered in dust, the field workers called out from the plots, eager to hear dirt on the two new supervisors.
Jing Xian wiped the grime from his brow, looking back at Mike and Leah, who stood impassively behind him. He didn't join in on the wild rumors, nor did anyone on his team drop a single complaint. They simply exchanged quiet, knowing nods of relief—fully aware that these new faces weren't just administrators, but an absolute shield sent to keep them alive.
Meanwhile, inside the main administrative wing, Gao Shen, Cheng Xue, Gao Haiming, and the rest of the designated sector leaders were in an entirely different world. They had spent the better part of the day locked in an intensive training session with Ben—the newly assigned assistant appointed to oversee regional operations.
Having been dragged out of bed at the crack of dawn, Gao Shen's head was practically spinning with the sheer volume of information laid out before them. Ben had systematically walked them through every detail of managing a modernized compound: navigating the central task terminal's backend, setting automated daily resource quotas, managing digital ration chits, and enforcing sanitation protocols across the residential blocks.
As the newly appointed head of the school and educational facilities, Cheng Xue listened intently, taking crisp notes on how the system handled youth registration and skill development programs. Nearby, Gao Haiming focused entirely on the logistics of the task fields and terminal routing, making sure he understood how to monitor work shifts without causing bottlenecks at the check-in stands. Standing slightly behind Gao Shen, his deputy, Xue Lili, maintained a quiet, professional distance, keeping her observations strictly bound to her administrative duties.
What impressed them most—and frankly intimidated them—was Ben's absolute composure. For eight straight hours, he stood at the head of the tactical conference table without leaning, fidgeting, or losing a single beat of focus. He addressed every complex logistical hurdle with smooth, robotic precision, breaking down multi-variable management systems into effortless step-by-step procedures.
By the time Ben formally concluded the briefing, the sun was already casting a warm, golden glow across the horizon.
"That completes your orientation for the management framework," Ben announced, offering a polite, immaculate bow. "You now possess administrator permissions over your respective sectors. Please ensure all evening shift rosters are checked in at the task terminal before dusk."
Cheng Xue closed her notepad with a soft sigh, rolling her shoulders. "I feel like my brain just absorbed three years of institutional administration in a single afternoon."
"It's a lot of data," Gao Haiming agreed, leaning back in his chair with a heavy exhaling breath. "Managing the terminal interface and assigning hundreds of field shifts is going to take serious precision."
Gao Shen grunted, rubbing the back of his neck as he stood up. "Let's move. We need to implement these protocols before nightfall." Xue Lili simply gave a brisk, formal nod, falling into step half a pace behind Gao Shen as the group filed out of the room.
Stepping out of the air-conditioned office and into the central courtyard, the leaders froze dead in their tracks, entirely unaware of the dramatic moments that had unfolded while they were locked inside.
The courtyard before them was buzzing with a strange, electrified energy. Groups of field workers were sitting near the fountain, heatedly debating the miraculous arrival of the five new assistants—Ben, Leah, Mike, Ann, and Cindy. Across the square, Jing Xian and his vanguard team were unbuckling their tactical gear, quietly recounting how Leah and Mike had casually dismantled a mutated infectee horde in a collapsed mall during their perimeter run.
Gao Shen and his team exchanged bewildered, wide-eyed looks, realizing the shelter's internal dynamic had subtly shifted while they were stuck in training.
"Look at them," Gao Haiming murmured, watching Cindy and Ann smoothly clear down the dining tables in perfect synchronicity. "It's like they were built specifically for this."
Gao Shen glanced up at the pristine residential towers, his expression turning sharp yet deeply humbled. "Whatever Zhao Yuan is planning, the bar just got raised. Let's get to our stations and do our jobs."