Chapter 1273 On the Eve of the Military Parade

Buzz buzz————

Before dawn, a few lingering stars still hung in the deep indigo sky.

The main roads, secondary highways, and even some long-neglected rural roads leading to the night market have broken the usual deathly silence of the post-apocalyptic night.

The deep roar of the engine grew louder as it approached, creating a restless and vibrant background sound.

Beams of car headlights pierced the darkness, like streams of light winding in from all directions, converging in the same direction—the night market that had just been reclaimed from a mountain of corpses and a sea of ​​blood.

Only by getting closer can one truly see the real appearance of these massive convoys on their "return journey".

At its core are meticulously modified tour buses, with reinforced bodies with extra steel plates and grilles, windows replaced with thick bulletproof glass, and tires that are clearly enhanced off-road models. Some even have retractable light machine gun turrets or lookout posts mounted on their roofs.

Most of these "steel buses" are painted with the name or code of their respective settlements, as well as the emblem of the Central Plains Theater.

Surrounding these buses were even more formidable armed forces:

The "Mengshi 3rd Generation" armored assault vehicle, painted with digital camouflage and equipped with machine guns or automatic grenade launchers on its roof weapon station, bears a conspicuous "Internal Security" insignia. There are also some accompanying military trucks, and fully armed Internal Security soldiers can be seen under the tarpaulin, vigilantly observing both sides of the road.

These convoys, like blood pumped from every part of the war zone, carried representatives from Chongyi, Tongren, Zaixiang, Xingyi, and hundreds of other large and small, directly or indirectly affiliated communities, breaking through the last darkness before dawn and heading towards the night market where the victory parade celebrating the recapture of the night market was about to take place.

In one of the convoys consisting of four "Warrior" vehicles and five modified buses, inside bus number "5," the air was a mixture of the morning coolness, the warmth of human bodies, and a barely perceptible tension and excitement.

Chen Shitou sat near the middle of the carriage, wearing his best outfit: a nearly new dark gray jacket over a faded plaid shirt, his trousers were ironed, and his leather shoes were carefully wiped clean.

As the leader of "Qingyan Village," a small settlement of just over four hundred people, this was the most presentable outfit he could muster.

Sitting next to him were four other representatives from the village: his deputy, Lao Wu; Sister Li, who was in charge of the warehouse and transactions; Uncle Zhang, the best bamboo craftsman in the village; and Xiao Sun, the most accurate herb collector.

These five people were the five precious spots allocated to Qingyan Village.

The fact that I can sit here is largely thanks to the nearby large-scale directly affiliated settlement, "Panjiang Settlement".

Qingyan Village is nestled against the mountains, with a small, rare fertile valley and clean water source. Even more remarkable is its abundance of a highly resilient mutant bamboo and several herbs with anti-inflammatory and analgesic effects.

With these "special products," they established stable trade relations with the Panjiang settlement, a powerful region directly under the war zone, which had tens of thousands of people and some light industry. They exchanged bamboo woven utensils and herbs for salt, cloth, tools, and some weapons.

Panjiang Town also needs their "outpost" located in the mountainous flank and their source of local specialties. In addition, Qingyan Village voluntarily pays "management fees" and provides intelligence, and the two sides have formed a tacit symbiotic relationship.

Therefore, Qingyan Village was able to maintain its nominal independence and was not forcibly incorporated.

Upon receiving the invitation to attend the celebration of the recapture of the city, Panjiang Town generously offered to take them along and provide armed escort.

Chen Shitou knew that this favor was significant, meaning they would need to provide more high-quality bamboo and herbs for the next season in return, but he felt it was worth it.

Being able to see the recaptured megacity with their own eyes and participate in such a historic celebration is a huge boost to the morale of everyone in the village, and it also gives Qingyan Village more "face" and a greater voice in the surrounding small communities.

At this moment, his gaze quietly swept across the carriage. Unlike the five of them, who were clearly selected and represented the "elite" level of the village, the representatives of Panjiang Village seemed more "down-to-earth".

The carriage was packed, with most people wearing clean but obviously work clothes or casual clothes, some with faint traces of machine oil or dust on their cuffs.

Among them were dark-skinned, rough-handed men who looked like factory workers, technicians with glasses and serious expressions, and middle-aged men and women who looked like grassroots administrators.

Although dressed simply, everyone made a great effort to keep themselves neat, with their hair combed and their faces showing a genuine sense of anticipation and solemnity.

The three or four people sitting in the front row, wearing crisp executive jackets and exuding a calm demeanor, were clearly leaders of the Panjiang gathering area's management team.

Chen Shitou knew that his bus was number 5, and there were four other buses ahead of him that were also full of people. It seemed that Panjiang had sent outstanding grassroots representatives from all fronts and positions this time.

The convoy set off from the Panjiang gathering place at 3 a.m.

Despite the long and bumpy journey, many people looked tired, but their eyes were still bright.

In the latter half of the night, the internal security and logistics personnel accompanying the team distributed a portion of dry rations to everyone on the vehicle, including Chen Shitou and his group who were "hitchhiking."

A metal can of eight-treasure porridge, two individually wrapped soft bread rolls, two sausages, and a Swiss roll wrapped in parchment paper.

The food wasn't lavish, but in the post-apocalyptic context, it was a rather thoughtful and "luxurious" meal for the journey, especially the sweet Swiss roll, something many ordinary survivors wouldn't even dream of.

Chen Shitou carefully put his share into his cloth bag. He only drank some water. He wanted to take the bread and Swiss roll back to his daughter in the village who was eagerly waiting for him.

As the convoy moved forward, the sky outside the car window gradually changed from inky black to deep blue, then revealed a hint of pale white, and the outlines of the distant mountains gradually became clear.

Just then, the middle-aged cadre sitting in the front row, wearing a navy blue executive jacket, with a gentle smile but a capable look in his eyes, stood up, held onto the back of his seat, and faced the carriage.

Upon seeing this, the carriage, which had been filled with excited chatter, immediately fell silent, and everyone's eyes were focused on him.

"Comrades, fellow villagers!" The cadre's voice wasn't loud, but it was strong and clear, tinged with obvious excitement:

"Look, everyone! We'll be able to see the outline of the night market soon!"

shhh-

Almost everyone instinctively turned or craned their necks to look ahead in the direction the cars were traveling.

Sure enough, at the gradually brightening horizon, a vast, complex, and jagged silhouette was slowly rising from the horizon.

It was no longer just a point on a map or a name in a radio broadcast, but a real, majestic city outline bearing the scars of war and the breath of new life!

Higher up, wisps of steam, symbolizing human activity, were rising, almost imperceptible in the morning light, yet so vividly proclaiming the city's "resurrection."

In this moment, an indescribable surge of emotion instantly gripped everyone in the carriage.

Before the apocalypse, Chen Shitou had visited this provincial capital countless times, but none of them could compare to the shock he felt at this moment!

He could clearly feel his heart pounding like a drum, one beat, two beats, three beats... growing heavier and heavier.

That was the night market... a megacity with tens of millions of people... really, it was taken down?

'My God, the feeling of helplessness when hundreds of my family members were surrounded by dozens of zombies and couldn't leave the house is still fresh in my mind. What kind of apocalyptic scene would it be with tens of millions of zombies?!'

Thinking of all this, Chen Shitou felt his throat go dry and tight, and he was sweating for the army that was going to retake the night market.