Who Else Should I Bleed, If Not You?
It quickly became clear to Lucas Kane that the amount of Wood gathered from trees was directly tied to their thickness.
The larger the tree, the more materials he received.
"Perfect," he murmured. "Let's keep going."
Ding! +2 Wood acquired.
Ding! +4 Wood, +1 Sprouting Branch acquired.
One by one, he harvested every tree lining the alley.
Total Collected:
Wood ×240
Sprouting Branches ×65
[Sprouting Branch]: Plantable item. Will grow into a tree when embedded in soil. Tip: After the next system compression cycle, unmutated trees will become a rare resource. Use wisely.]
Lucas blinked at the alert.
He had been planning to toss the branches away—who needed saplings when trees were everywhere?
But now it made sense.
In thirty days, all plant life would mutate.
These untainted saplings could become priceless resources for crafting or shelter.
He stored them carefully.
Then turned his attention to crafting.
[Precision Longbow Blueprint]
Cost: Wood ×10 + Energy Crystal ×1
Output: Precision Longbow ×1
[Arrow Blueprint]
Cost: Wood ×1
Output: Arrows ×20
Lucas started crafting.
Ding! -10 Wood, -1 Crystal → +1 Precision Longbow
Ding! -10 Wood, -1 Crystal → +1 Precision Longbow
Ding! -1 Wood, -1 Crystal → +1 Precision Longbow
(Repeat ×20)
When it was done, Lucas had crafted twenty Precision Longbows—at the cost of 200 Wood and 20 Energy Crystals.
He opened the regional chat:
[Precision Longbows available. Each comes with 10 arrows. DM to negotiate. Name your price.]
The survivors were already stirred up from the truck massacre videos. Everyone was fired up—wanting to slay zombies, earn crystals, and make a name for themselves.
But most people only had kitchen knives and rusty cleavers.
Close combat was suicide.
One wrong slash, and you'd get bitten.
That's why, the moment Lucas's message appeared, the chat went wild:
"Ranged weapons?! Hell yes!"
"Autolock arrows? No aiming required?! Bro, this is next-level tech!"
"It's time, boys. We can't sit around waiting to die. Let's gear up and fight!"
"Does anyone know the price? Has anyone managed to buy one yet?"
Lucas's private messages exploded.
"Hey big bro, can I borrow a bow? I'll pay you with crystals after I kill a few zombies."
"Cutie~ I want one too~ Tell me what you want. We could do a little video call? I'll obey all your commands"
"I only have half a sausage... trade?"
Lucas scoffed and ignored them all.
Seriously? A premium bow built with ten units of wood and a full Energy Crystal, and they want to freeload?
There were thousands of survivors.
Sooner or later, someone would pay a proper price.
Then came a message that caught his eye.
"I have 5 Energy Crystals. Fair trade?"
The sender was a man in military gear—clean, sharp eyes, confident posture. His name: Don Irons.
Lucas accepted.
It wasn't just the price. The man looked competent.
If Don could use the bow well, he'd kill more zombies—and need more arrows later.
Because Lucas wasn't in this to sell bows.
He was here to build a long-term customer base.
Arrows were the real money-maker.
A bow was durable.
But arrows? Consumables.
Without arrows, the bow was just a stick.
Want to keep killing?
Then come back and buy arrows.
That was the play.
Then came another offer.
"I have a skill book: Beginner's Eye of Insight. Want to trade?"
[Eye of Insight – Beginner Level]
Allows you to see the combat level of others within 3 tiers above or below your own.
It was a useful tool for PVP and gauging strength.
But in the early apocalypse?
Zombies didn't need identification.
And human fights were more about numbers than nuance.
Still, it was a fair trade.
Lucas agreed.
Ding! You have traded 1 Precision Longbow. Skill Acquired: Eye of Insight [Beginner]
Another request came in:
"I have a 10L bottle of purified water. Want to trade?"
Lucas clicked the item.
It was a full water jug—like the kind used in office dispensers.
If this person could part with such a large quantity... it meant he had more.
Lucas messaged back:
"I want 10 bottles."
The reply came fast—and panicked.
"What?! That's robbery! I only have a dozen left!"
Lucas smirked.
Bingo.
The man's name was Ethan Snow, and Lucas's guess had been correct: he was trapped inside a water supply station.
He had all the water he could drink—but no way to trade it.
Too much made him a target.
Too little wouldn't get him a bow.
And in the current economy, food and water were valuable—but few had the crystals to buy them.
Power came from killing zombies.
Weapons gave you that power.
And ranged, auto-aim bows?
They were god-tier tools.
That's why Ethan had messaged Lucas in the first place.
And now?
Lucas had him cornered.
"Ten bottles. No less."
"Man, I've only got twelve total! If I give you ten, what do I have left to survive?!"
Lucas knew the truth.
If Ethan really thought the price was unfair, he would've walked away.
But he hadn't.
He was still bargaining—desperate to justify a smaller payment.
"You're still talking. Which means you want this deal more than you want to argue."
"If you really had other options, you'd be gone already."
Lucas's reply was cold and sharp:
"Ten bottles. Take it or leave it."
"If I don't bleed you," he thought, "then who the hell should I?"