Apocalyptic Disaster: I Hoard Billions in Supplies and Kill the Saint

86: Chapter 86 A Feast Under the GreenhouseThe air inside the elevator went still for a beat.

Ye Nanxing’s gaze was icy, and a tiny bloodshot thread appeared at the corner of her eye—a reaction to her pupils contracting too quickly as she controlled her emotions.

Her fingertips tapped lightly against her thigh—once, very softly, as if holding down a button about to trigger an explosion.

This was her ”emotional detachment” mechanism.

She forced the impulse in her brain to overturn everything down into the deepest recesses.

Chu Yunting, standing half a step to her left, remained silent. His hands hung naturally at his sides, appearing relaxed, but his eyes were fixed intently on the cabin door that had just closed.

—He, too, had seen the shoelace of that Child in the final moment it was exposed.

That scrap of white fabric was like a final shred of ”humanity” struggling before being swallowed into hell.

His expression didn’t change, but his heart clenched violently.

Not because of shock, but because of familiarity.

This was not his first time seeing this method of disposal.

The last time it happened, when he was still an ”outer liaison for the White Core Project,” he had witnessed similar liquidation methods with his own eyes, only the targets were ”abnormal program testers,” not an eight-year-old Child.

He thought he had long since become numb to these things.

But today—it was different.

He glanced at Ye Nanxing.

She said nothing, only uttering a single sentence with feigned indifference:

”...This counts as a fortress?”

Chu Yunting’s gaze flickered.

He could tell that Ye Nanxing was very calm, terrifyingly calm.

She was also very restrained, restrained as if she could blow this entire place up the next second.

Chu Yunting suddenly realized—he didn’t know Ye Nanxing at all.

He had never asked about her past, didn’t know how she had survived that windy, snowy night alone, how she had built a Shelter capable of withstanding extreme cold, nor did he know... just how far she intended to go.

He only thought she was not simple and was worth cooperating with.

But at this moment, he suddenly had an unsettling illusion.

She hadn’t come to cooperate.

She had come to—settle accounts.

”The extreme cold is, after all, not a fairy tale.”

Lin Muran’s voice arrived right on cue.

He leaned against the elevator wall, his fingers toying with the button on his cuff, a smile still on his face.

”We can only support a portion of the people.”

Ye Nanxing glanced at him, her expression indifferent.

”And the others?”

”It depends on fate.”

Lin Muran smiled and spread his hands.

The words were spoken too lightly, too steadily, as if he were discussing a fluctuation in temperature rather than the process of a living person just having been disposed of.

The elevator doors slowly closed, swallowing that low-temperature purgatory back into the underground.

Chu Yunting closed his eyes, his eyelashes casting a very short shadow beneath them.

At this moment, Ye Nanxing suddenly turned her head, her gaze meeting his exactly.

Chu Yunting turned his head away almost imperceptibly, hiding his emotions back in his eyes.

The elevator continued upward, leading to that ”Greenhouse Paradise” beneath layers of gorgeous packaging.

No one spoke.

Ye Nanxing and Chu Yunting were finally led into a reception room with excellent soundproofing.

The floor was made of constant-temperature stone, giving the illusion of warmth underfoot.

Several paintings with a unified style hung on the walls—wastelands, wind and snow, frozen lakes... all were themes of extreme cold, yet they were rendered in a highly ”artistic” way.

On the tea table, red wine, hot coffee, and a platter of desserts on a silver tray had already been prepared.

Everything was gentle, quiet, and full of the exquisite feeling of the ”afterglow of civilization.”

Lin Muran had not yet arrived.

But Ye Nanxing knew that all of this had already begun.

She scanned the room, her eyes lingering for a second on the internal structure of the crystal chandelier in the upper right corner—

A miniature rotating surveillance camera, its red light extremely faint, almost imperceptible to the naked eye.

She sat down slowly with a calm expression, took off her coat and hung it on the back of the chair, her movements crisp and efficient, as if she hadn’t noticed any of these anomalies at all.

Chu Yunting sat silently opposite her, his expression even heavier than before.