A towering high wall, like an insurmountable chasm, completely isolates the desolation and decay of the Wasteland World outside.

Inside the wall, the Inner City and the Buffer Zone outside seem to be divided into two completely different dimensions.

On the wide two-way drive, various vehicles shuttle back and forth, numbering tens of times more than those in the Buffer Zone. At important intersections, there are even automated traffic lights, orderly and regulated.

A black pickup truck smoothly drives on streets as smooth as a mirror. Ding Yishan and Liu Kun chat casually, while Chuan stares out the window, slightly dazed and lost.

The Buffer Zone has just suffered a calamity that claimed the lives of hundreds of thousands, with numerous areas flattened by infection sources. A large number of residents, carrying simple luggage, chose to migrate, lamenting all over the land.

Yet the Inner City remains unaffected, still wrapped in a scene of prosperity, even the air exuding a leisure unrelated to suffering.

The buildings lining the streets vary in style and stand close together.

The neon tubes of the billiard hall are still glaringly bright during the day, and the gigantic posters outside the video hall are looping images of a man in a yellow jumpsuit, agile, sometimes punching like the wind, sometimes kicking sharply, the bold "Bruce Lee" in three dark characters particularly striking in the dynamic light, attracting the attention of a few young people passing by.

The pickup turns off the main road and drives into an artistic alley.

The slanted blinds of the piano room let out a few strands of piano music through the gaps, a light and cheerful melody that lifts one's spirits upon hearing it.

Chuan's gaze falls on a flower shop at the corner, with bouquets of red, yellow, purple...half a person's height. A few strands of fragrance waft in through the window gap, making the whole world seem vibrant.

These buildings, which exist only in the old magazines cherished by Buffer Zone residents and whose names are rarely heard, are tangible here, densely making one feel bewildered.

The pedestrians on the street are wearing neatly ironed clothes, brightly colored yet not tacky, walking in small groups, with peaceful smiles on their faces, and their conversations light-hearted and joyful.

Their topics mention neither infection sources nor migration, only their not-so-busy work and daily lives.

"Chuan."

Ding Yishan called twice before Chuan snapped back to reality and hurriedly turned his head.

"Sir!"

"Were you mesmerized?" Ding Yishan chuckled softly, giving a light instruction, "Later, you go and buy some jerky and bread for me, hmm, some fresh fruit too. I need to visit the wounded soldiers from this infection wave once we get out, and it's not easy to come to the Inner City. I haven't even used up the quota from a few months ago, so it's just right."

"Mm, alright."

In no time, the black pickup stopped in front of a square, four-story building.

The car doors opened, and the three of them got out one after another.

Liu Kun walked in the front, Ding Yishan slightly lagged half a step behind, while Chuan consciously kept a distance of three steps behind the two, maintaining an appropriate distance.

"Later during the meeting, let them talk. We'll just let it go in one ear and out the other."

Liu Kun tugged at the corner of his mouth, his tone carrying a hint of indifference, yet underlined with undoubted confidence, "As long as I'm here, these people can clamor all they want about restoring the Buffer Zone's police department or power division; in actual implementation, the decision ultimately lies with us."

"I understand." Ding Yishan's expression remained relaxed, his tone showing no ripples, "Over the years, being pointed at and scolded is nothing new, I'm used to it."

The two walked side by side into the building, and the guard at the entrance merely gave them a symbolic glance before letting them pass.

As for Chuan, he shrugged, turned immediately under the guard's devouring gaze to leave and purchase supplies.

This is a meeting among the upper echelons of Happiness City, not just anyone can enter.

Those who can step into this building are either powerful individuals wielding Extraordinary Power or core spokespersons from various factions.

Someone like Ding Yishan, a station head, even needs to gauge others' reactions before speaking freely in such a setting now, let alone a mere follower.

Entering the conference hall.

The interior decoration wasn't as luxurious as one might imagine.

Simple redwood tables arranged in a rectangle, and following Liu Kun, the two sat in the middle.

Before long, more and more people gradually walked in, taking their seats briskly.

The seating arrangements were meticulous.

For instance, the three individuals from the Technology Faction entered and went straight to the top left seats, all just over thirty, wearing uniform silver-gray uniforms, with gear emblems pinned at their cuffs.

The three members of the Extraordinary Faction moved to the top right, each physically imposing, led by a bald Westerner. When sitting down, his chair emitted a slight creak, and he glanced around the room, particularly resting on Ding Yishan for a few seconds, his eyes sharp as a knife, exuding an unyielding aura.

After a moment, the three from the Idealist Faction also entered.

They wore plain cotton garments, contrasting with the surrounding atmosphere, neither joining the Technology Faction's bustle nor nearing the Extraordinary Faction, instead sitting discreetly at the end of the long rectangular table, not engaging in conversation, just sitting quietly, like bystanders.

Aside from the three major factions backed by elders, there were also various departments from the Inner City and Industrial Zone.

Such as the Medical Bureau, Public Works Bureau, Production Bureau, Defense Bureau, Resource Bureau, and about thirty people consecutively sat down, packing the edges of the rectangular table thoroughly.

The clock's hour hand on the wall slightly trembled, waiting until it pointed at the number '10'.

The heavy wooden door of the conference room opened again, and a middle-aged man walked in.

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