National Identity Revealed! The Government Just Exposed Me!

After finalizing the name for his shelter, Mike casually opened the leaderboard for a quick glance.

Just as expected!

Every single leaderboard in the city prominently featured his shelter at the top: Talent Count Rankings, Talent Level Rankings, Shelter Level Rankings, Tech Project Rankings, Mechanical Item Rankings—you name it. Mike's shelter was number one across more than ten categories, and even for the ones he hadn't claimed the top spot, he was comfortably within the top three.

But what truly made this moment shine was the transformation after he named his shelter. All the leaderboards that previously displayed "Unnamed Shelter" now proudly showcased one title: Jinling People's Apocalypse Disaster Relief Command Center.

A name like that radiated authority and safety—a vibe that screamed national-level intervention. It was as if the government itself had descended to personally organize rescue efforts.

"Now this is a name that suits the spirit of our nation!" Mike thought with satisfaction.

After all, if there's one thing emblematic of national character, it's the word "People." Be it in military, commerce, education, or healthcare, any organization with the word "People" in its name was undeniably tied to the nation's will. But such a title wasn't something to be taken lightly.

With great power came immense responsibility. Carrying the word "People" meant that any mistake—no matter how small—would draw scorn and criticism. Success might not guarantee praise, but failure would certainly bring swift punishment. And yet, many still vied for the honor, driven by unwavering faith:

"For the People."

Satisfied with his shelter's newfound prestige, Mike felt a surge of motivation. Time to get some real work done.

"Xiaoci, let's deal with the war inheritance items in the warehouse," he instructed, walking alongside Jiang Xiaoci.

"Sort and allocate the resources as needed. Make full use of them," he continued. "As for the Berserker Guards, I checked—they're completely loyal to me, though they're… admittedly hideous. Let's not scare the residents for now. We're strong enough without relying on these hundred monstrosities."

As they began unloading the supplies, Mike left the finer details of categorization to Jiang Xiaoci. Her administrative abilities were unparalleled—so much so that Mike often thought of her as a modern-day Zhuge Liang. With her overseeing the settlement, he had no concerns about management or stability.

By the time he returned to his room, a system notification abruptly appeared:

[The second round of the Apocalypse War has concluded. Your nation's military has chosen the "Distribute" option.]

[All survivors in the nation have received the crafted item: Survivor's Manual and Path to Recovery.]

The reward for victory in the second round of the Apocalypse War had arrived.

Mike had nearly forgotten about this mechanism. The first round's F-tier difficulty had yielded basic rewards—useful only in the early stages of the apocalypse. The second round, also F-tier, didn't promise much better. However, the military's decision to distribute an official guidebook was a pleasant surprise.

Curious, Mike opened the manual:

It was an expertly crafted survival guide, filled with practical techniques for extreme conditions, probability analyses for future apocalyptic scenarios, and predictive models from the nation's top experts. The manual also stressed one key point: The nation had appointed a select group of disaster commanders to lead and protect survivors.

The guide emphasized these commanders' identities and responsibilities, assuring survivors that they could rely on them for support and guidance. The document even warned that commanders underperformed at their peril—those found lacking could expect to be replaced in the next round of the Apocalypse War.

Mike chuckled as he skimmed through. "The government isn't holding back, huh? They're really putting commanders under the spotlight."

The manual left no room for ambiguity. Commanders weren't just leaders—they were national symbols, tasked with unconditional service to the people. Unconditional.

For many, this pressure would be overwhelming. But for Mike, it was a badge of honor. He thrived under the weight of responsibility.

For survivors, this system brought clarity. Starving? Lost? Seek out your regional commander. They had both the resources and the mandate to help. It was a beacon of hope for those in dire straits.

Still, Mike knew this transparency had its downsides. Not all survivors would approach with genuine needs; there would undoubtedly be troublemakers. Yet, the nation's stance was clear: saving the majority far outweighed the inconvenience of dealing with a few bad apples.

"Heroes must rise to challenges that ordinary people cannot," Mike mused, flipping through the manual.

Interestingly, Jinling's shelter was notably absent from the list of named commander shelters. The manual explained why: Jinling's commander—Mike—hadn't named his shelter until recently. But now, with the leaderboard updated and his name publicly tied to the title, there was no mistaking who was in charge.

"Looks like there's no backing out now," Mike muttered with a grin, opening the chat channel.

He couldn't help but wonder—how would the city's other commanders react when they learned about the new system?