Chapter Eighty-One: Fishing in Troubled Waters

Ferren lifted his gaze, looking toward the desolate end of the highway. There, a small town stood out clearly. The Federation's flag fluttered in the wind, conspicuous beneath the dim sky. Armed soldiers patrolled the sentry posts and around the walls.

“The security seems pretty tight,” Eluka murmured, furrowing her brow and lowering her voice. They weren’t residents of the settlement, but they had dealings with such places before. Judging from the glaring searchlights and the fierce patrols, this was far from a settlement’s usual appearance; it was more like they were expecting an enemy.

“Commander, are we sure this is the right time to come?” she asked.

“Don't worry about such trivial matters. We’ll do our part,” Ferren replied, unconcerned by Eluka’s worries. The three sisters didn’t know, but Ferren was well aware that recently, the so-called Seven Giants, led by the Queen and the Butcher, had been rampaging through Federation settlements. Several settlements had already suffered. Naturally, the Federation couldn't be expected to remain idle in such circumstances. If they were still relaxed and leisurely now, that would be truly suspicious.

Just as Ferren expected, the Federation reacted swiftly. Their group had barely reached the gates of the settlement when a squad of soldiers rushed over, blocking their way.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” The lead soldier, seeing the group, hurriedly raised his gun, aiming at Ferren and shouting angrily. Behind him, the gunner operating the machine gun turret quickly turned it to face their direction, ratcheting up the tension. Seeing these fierce soldiers, the three sisters instinctively stepped back two paces and gripped their weapons tightly.

“We’re travelers,” Ferren responded, calm and unruffled even in the face of those black muzzles. Smiling, he reached into his coat and handed an ID card to the lead soldier, then tipped his hat and nodded politely.

“Our settlement encountered some troubles recently, forcing us to leave and seek a new place to stay. If possible, we’d like to stay here for a while. Of course, we’re willing to pay and offer our services in return, whatever you might need.”

“I see...”

Hearing Ferren’s explanation, and seeing his harmless demeanor, the lead soldier relaxed a little. He didn’t doubt Ferren’s story; it wasn’t uncommon for people to be forced out of their settlements for various reasons, seeking refuge elsewhere. Still, out of caution, he glanced at the ID card and compared it with the Federation’s network, checking to ensure Ferren wasn’t a wanted criminal.

Naturally, Ferren wasn’t on the Federation’s wanted list—though by rights, he ought to have been their number one target. The irony was, the Federation had no idea about his ID details. That was the benefit of using a codename: with only a codename to go on, no faction could glean anything useful. To get real information, they’d need the original ID registration data, which wasn’t accessible to just anyone. Each ID card carried a unique code that revealed true identity, but only at the card’s place of origin. If the origin was destroyed, retrieving the real identity would be nearly impossible. All the soldiers could do now was read the card’s info and compare it with internal Federation records—nothing like the convenient pre-disaster identity systems. Their current systems only supported basic information reading and matching; they had no other recourse.

“Alright, everything checks out,” the soldier said after verifying the records, handing Ferren back his card and asking, “What’s your profession?”

“I’m a doctor, a surgeon.”

“A doctor?” The soldier paused, then glanced at the three girls beside Ferren—the black cat on Ferren’s shoulder was of no concern.

“And they...?”

“They’re my assistants.”

“Oh... I see.” The soldier nodded, suddenly understanding. He’d wondered about the three women and one man together, but with Ferren’s explanation, it made perfect sense. A doctor would naturally have a few assistants.

“The Federation welcomes you,” the soldier said warmly. His attitude changed noticeably. On the wasteland, doctors were always among the most sought-after professions. Food could be grown, monsters hunted, but sickness couldn’t be cured alone. Doctors were welcomed and respected everywhere. This settlement was a modest third-tier outpost, with only a handful of doctors—half-trained at best, incapable of curing or killing. Compared to them, Ferren, a “surgeon,” seemed high-class, and the soldiers themselves would much prefer a professional medic over those who bandaged bullet wounds without even extracting the rounds.

Having confirmed their identities, the soldiers quickly shifted their demeanor, moved aside the barricade, opened the gates, and welcomed Ferren and his companions into the settlement.

As a third-tier settlement, the place was far from lively. The streets were patrolled by armed soldiers and the occasional armored vehicle speeding by. Beneath the ruined buildings lining the streets, many ragged people huddled—judging by their appearance, likely prisoners or slaves.

“Why must we come here?” Eluka grumbled, keeping her voice low as she surveyed the bleak scene.

“This place is so poor, there’s not even a scrap to profit from. Are we really starting here, Commander? And even the weapons…”

For safety’s sake, Eluka and her sisters hadn’t brought their previous laser rifles or advanced weaponry—such infinite-ammo gear attracted too much attention anywhere. Here, they had to make do with standard-issue firearms, which was far from ideal for them.

Of course, Eluka’s complaints went unanswered by Ferren. Instead, the black cat on his shoulder turned its head and looked at her.

“This may be your first time, so you might not understand. Even small settlements like this have their value… Believe me, our harvest will be plentiful.”

“Really?” At this, not only Eluka, but Chris and Corona’s eyes lit up with anticipation.