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

Inside the abandoned cement pipes, it was cold, damp, and filled with the smell of dust and rust.

But at this moment, this aura seemed to be quietly diluted by an invisible, faint light of hope.

Chen Feng leaned against the cold tube wall, his chest rising and falling slightly. The "encounter" he had just experienced had such a tremendous impact that it took him several minutes to barely calm his racing heart and churning thoughts.

Not a dream.

It's not a hallucination.

That cold, mechanical voice, that hazy ten-cubic-meter space, those four clearly labeled packages that appeared out of nowhere... all were vividly imprinted in the depths of his consciousness.

A system? A personal space?

These words exceeded all his knowledge from the past twenty-odd years of his life. In his world, there were only fitter's tools, pickaxes from labor camps, knives and guns for revenge, and the blood and fire he had endured along the way.

But at this moment, reason tells him that investigating the origin and principles of this "system" is meaningless and a waste of time.

What's truly significant is that it appeared, it provided supplies, and these supplies were exactly what he and Xiaoyu needed most at that moment, something that could almost determine their life or death!

In dire straits, even a straw is worth grasping at desperately. Moreover, this appears to be far more than just a straw.

Chen Feng closed his eyes again, his consciousness sinking into that hazy space.

This time, he observed the four things in the center of the space more calmly and carefully.

[Basic Survival Supplies Pack], [Basic Medical Kit], [Time-Adapted Currency Pack (Hong Kong Dollars)], [Concealment Aid Item (Basic)].

The name is clear, and the function seems self-explanatory.

He first focused his attention on the [Basic Survival Supplies Pack].

Almost as soon as he thought of it, the bulging canvas package disappeared from the gray space and appeared in his hands the next moment, heavy and real!

It has a rough and solid feel, and is quite heavy.

Xiaoyu was startled by the package that suddenly appeared out of nowhere. She instinctively shrank back and stared wide-eyed at her brother: "Brother... what... what is this?"

Chen Feng didn't explain immediately. He took a deep breath, his fingers trembling slightly (not from fear, but from excitement and some indescribable tension), and untied the simple knot on the package.

The canvas was spread out, revealing the contents inside in the dim light at the bottom of the pipe.

The compressed biscuits—not the coarse kind they had eaten before, but well-packaged military-grade compressed biscuits printed with English and traditional Chinese characters, a full twenty packs.

Canned goods—five or six cans of meat, fish, and fruit, the tin cans were ice-cold.

There were more than a dozen vacuum-packed cooked foods—braised eggs and ham sausages.

Chocolate—several large pieces of chocolate wrapped in tin foil.

Bottled drinking water – a whole case (24 bottles) of unopened glass bottles of water with simple labels on the bottles.

There were even a few packs of cigarettes (Marlboro) and a few boxes of matches.

In addition, there were two sets of clean, slightly worn clothes, trousers, shoes, and socks suitable for ordinary workers or citizens, one set for men and one set for women, with sizes that seemed to fit Xiao Yu and Chen Feng's builds roughly. The clothes were common dark blue work clothes, floral shirts, and dark trousers, while the shoes were the style worn by people on Hong Kong Island and women's shoes.

Food! Water! Clothes!

Moreover, the quantity is plentiful, and the quality seems to far exceed the standard of ordinary people in this era!

Chen Feng felt as if a warm hand had squeezed his heart, a mixture of bittersweet joy. He almost couldn't wait, first grabbing a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap, and holding it to Xiao Yu's lips.

"Xiaoyu, drink some water first, drink slowly."

Xiaoyu was parched. Smelling the crisp, refreshing vapor, she didn't even have time to wonder where the water came from. She immediately took the bottle with both hands and drank quickly in small sips. The cool, sweet liquid slid down her dry throat, bringing an unprecedented sense of comfort.

Chen Feng picked up a bottle himself and gulped down several mouthfuls. The icy water soothed his equally thirsty body, as if every cell in his body was cheering.

Next, he opened a package of compressed biscuits, broke off a small piece and handed it to Xiaoyu, then opened a package of canned meat and used his own simple fork (there were a few simple aluminum cutlery pieces in the supply pack) to scoop out the meat.

"Eat, Xiaoyu, eat slowly, don't choke."

Xiaoyu took the biscuits and meat, first taking a small, cautious bite, and then she couldn't control herself any longer and began to wolf them down. The compressed biscuits were savory and salty, and the canned meat contained large chunks of tender, flavorful pork, which was an unimaginable delicacy for her body and soul, which had been starving for so long.

Chen Feng quickly ate some biscuits and meat to replenish his almost depleted energy. With food in his stomach, his body seemed to regain a bit of vitality.

Then, he took out the basic medical kit.

It was also a metal box, but when opened, it contained various medicines and medical equipment arranged in different categories.

Most noticeable were several disposable syringes and a few small glass vials labeled in English—penicillin injection solution. This was exactly the anti-inflammatory medicine his wound needed!

There were also disinfectant iodine solution, alcohol swabs, sterile gauze, bandages, hemostatic powder, painkillers, and even a few white tablets labeled "antibiotics (oral)".

In addition, there are two more special light blue potions labeled "Physical Repair Agent (Basic)" and "Energy Restoration Agent (Basic)".

Chen Feng didn't hesitate. He first checked Xiaoyu's body, confirming that apart from weakness and shock, she had no obvious external injuries. Then, he turned his back and took off his blood-stained and mud-covered shirt.

The gunshot wound on my left arm was red, swollen, and inflamed, with yellowish-white pus around the edges. The cut on my right leg was even deeper, and although it had been hastily bandaged with strips of cloth, it was also severely infected, causing excruciating pain with any movement.

He first carefully cleaned the area around the wound with an alcohol swab (it felt cold and pungent, but it was very pure). The pain made the veins on his forehead bulge and cold sweat pour down his face, but he gritted his teeth and didn't utter a sound.

Then, he picked up a syringe and a bottle of penicillin. Although he didn't understand modern medicine, he understood the basic principles of injection (injecting into the muscle). He gritted his teeth, mimicking a vague memory, drew the liquid into the syringe, expelled the air, aimed at his left deltoid muscle, and with a determined effort, inserted the syringe and slowly injected the liquid.

A stinging sensation came, but it was quickly replaced by a strange coolness from the medicine.

Next was the wound on his right leg. He first sprinkled styptic powder on it, then disinfected it with iodine, and finally carefully bandaged it with new sterile gauze and a bandage.