Courtyard House: First, kill the hypocrites, leave none alive.

Chen Feng carefully inspected the two Type 54 pistols.

The gun was in good condition, only covered in some mud. He removed the magazine and counted the remaining bullets.

The magazine of a pistol is full, eight rounds.

There were four rounds left in the magazine of the other pistol.

Including the two spare magazines (each with eight rounds), he had a total of twenty-eight pistol rounds left.

Twenty-eight shots.

This is all the firepower he and Xiaoyu currently possess.

In Hong Kong Island, a place where people and people are unfamiliar and fraught with danger, twenty-eight bullets may only be enough to deal with a small-scale conflict, or... a desperate gamble.

He reloaded the empty magazine with bullets (using spare bullets), his movements practiced and steady.

He then re-inspected and loaded the two pistols, tucked one back into his waistband, and placed the other on the ground within easy reach.

Next was the revolver, which Xiaoyu always carried with her.

Chen Feng took it and checked it; all six bullets were still there and in good condition.

He handed the gun back to Xiaoyu and whispered, "Take this for self-defense. Remember, don't use it unless absolutely necessary."

Xiaoyu gripped the cold gun handle tightly and nodded vigorously.

Then there are supplies.

He opened the dirty, mud-stained canvas tool bag.

There's nothing decent left inside.

The compressed biscuits, pickled vegetables, and boiled eggs brought from Beijing have long been exhausted. Only a small piece of dried food, soaked in water and soft, of unknown origin, remains, along with four small yellow croakers wrapped in layers of oil paper and waterproof cloth, and a little bit of Hong Kong dollars and US dollars.

Money is the foundation for their foothold in Hong Kong Island, but they can't touch it now.

Once you redeem or use it, it's easy to expose your whereabouts and cause unnecessary trouble.

Only a tiny bit of water remained at the bottom of the pot, barely enough for the two of them to moisten their throats.

Food was almost nonexistent.

The penicillin was used up, and only a little Yunnan Baiyao and gauze remained. His wounds on his left arm and right leg needed treatment, but the conditions did not allow it.

Thirst, pain, exhaustion, and uncertainty about the future... like invisible shackles, wrapping around you layer by layer, tightening more and more.

Chen Feng leaned against the cold cement pipe wall, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to suppress the surging restlessness and a trace of almost imperceptible...despair in his heart.

He fought his way from Beijing to Tianjin Port, and then from Tianjin Port to the beachhead of Hong Kong Island. Like a tireless, wounded lone wolf, he fought his way out of a mountain of corpses and a sea of ​​blood for his sister and for the undying flame of revenge in his heart.

You managed to break through, but then what?

In this completely unfamiliar land with vastly different rules, where the strong prey on the weak, he was with a younger sister who needed protection, penniless except for a few gold bars that could not be kept secret for the time being and a dozen or so bullets.

What's the next step?

where to go?

What are you doing?

How to survive?

How to hide it?

How to survive the possible pursuit (whether it is an investigation by the mainland public security, retaliation by local gangs in Hong Kong, or even a counterattack by the forces behind the "snake catcher").

Countless questions, like a tangled mess, filled his mind.

Exhaustion washed over him like a tidal wave, almost overwhelming him. The pain from his wounds became even more pronounced.

He pinched his brow hard, forcing himself to stay awake.

We cannot fall. At least not now.

Xiaoyu still needs him.

Just as he mustered his strength, preparing to consider how to use this last bit of resource to find a way out, even if it was the most humble, rat-like way of survival—

A cold, mechanical, and emotionless voice, without warning, resounded directly in the depths of his mind:

[Host detected to have completed the core revenge mission: eliminating the main enemies of the courtyard and successfully surviving.]

[Avengers Support System, activated.]

[System binding in progress... Binding successful.]

[Host: Chen Feng.]

[Status: Severe injury (multiple external injuries, moderate risk of infection), extreme fatigue, mild dehydration, severe malnutrition.]

[Loading basic functional modules...]

[1. Personal Space (Initial): 10 cubic meters of independent storage space, time flow frozen, only the host's consciousness can access non-living resources.]

2. Marching Backpack (Virtual): Integrates the host's existing and contemporary standard individual combat equipment storage and retrieval functions. Replenishment requires corresponding resources or system points. (Currently unlocked)

[New player gift pack distributed...]

[Received: Basic Survival Supplies Pack x1. Basic Medical Kit x1. Era-Adapted Currency Pack (Hong Kong Dollars) x1. Concealment Aid Item (Basic) x1.]

[The supplies have been stored in your personal space; you can retrieve them at any time using your consciousness.]

[System Prompt: This system is auxiliary, designed to provide limited support to the host in completing specific objectives and subsequent survival challenges. More functions and resources will be unlocked after the host meets specific conditions or acquires system points.]

[Wishing you, host... a pleasant life.]

The sound disappeared as abruptly as it had appeared.

Chen Feng suddenly opened his eyes!

The pupils suddenly contracted in the dim light!

He almost instinctively tensed all the muscles in his body, and his right hand flashed to the gun handle at his waist!

Sharp eyes scanned every inch of space inside and outside the pipe like a hawk!

What was that sound?!

Who is speaking?!

System? Portable space? Newbie gift pack?

A string of words completely beyond his knowledge and comprehension crashed into his mind like something out of a fairy tale.

Hallucination?

Is it a mental disorder caused by overwork and injury?

Or...the delirium of someone on their deathbed?

He shook his head vigorously and then pinched his thigh hard.

The distinct pain he felt proved that he was not dreaming.

It's not a hallucination.

That cold, mechanical voice, which acted directly on consciousness, was so real it was chilling.

Xiaoyu seemed to sense her brother's unusual behavior and looked up at him uneasily, asking, "Brother? What's wrong?"

Chen Feng did not answer immediately.

He forced himself to calm down, took a few deep breaths, and tried to process the information from the "nonsense" he had just heard.

Revenge mission complete? System activated? Personal space? Newbie gift pack?

Although each word is absurd, when put together and combined with his current desperate situation, they vaguely point to an absurd possibility that makes his heart pound uncontrollably.

He tried, as the voice had suggested, to sink his consciousness into it…

The next moment, a gray, regular cubic space of about ten cubic meters suddenly unfolded before his eyes (or in his consciousness)!

The space was empty, but in the center, four items were neatly arranged:

A bulging, canvas package with a blurry cross mark on it—[Basic Survival Supplies Pack].

A slightly smaller, white metal box with a red cross on it – [Basic Medical Kit].

A brown paper bag, sealed with hemp rope – [Time-Adapted Currency Bag (Hong Kong Dollars)].

There was also a neatly folded, slightly worn, ordinary-looking dark blue suit and a pair of leather shoes, with an equally ordinary baseball cap on top—[Concealment Auxiliary Item (Crude)].

All of this was presented with perfect clarity in his conscious "field of vision," as if it were within reach.

Chen Feng's breath caught in his throat for a moment.

It's not a hallucination!

it is true!

That so-called "system," that "portable space," those "supplies"... they all really exist!

Ecstasy, shock, disbelief, and an absurd feeling surged through his chest like a torrent of ice and fire!

He almost couldn't help but shout it out!

But the powerful willpower forged through days of struggling on the brink of life and death forcefully suppressed this huge emotional fluctuation.

His expression changed only slightly before he quickly regained his composure, but his eyes ignited with an unprecedented light, like seeing a flame in the face of despair!

He looked again at the weak and terrified Xiaoyu beside him, at his empty toolbox and the few bullets he had left, and at the cold, dirty abandoned pipe...

Desperate situation?

No.

The desperate situation seemed to have just been cracked open.

A path leading to the unknown, but at least... a glimmer of light can be seen.

He did not immediately retrieve the supplies.

Instead, he carefully used his consciousness to "touch" and "observe" the hazy space and the things inside it again, confirming that they were stable and that he could clearly perceive every detail.

Then, he looked at Xiaoyu, forcing a reassuring smile, though the smile appeared somewhat stiff due to fatigue and dirt:

"Xiaoyu, it's alright now. Brother... has thought of a solution."

His voice was still hoarse, but it had gained an indescribable calmness and strength that he hadn't had before.

"We... might have a chance."