Courtyard House: I fish in the heavens, a professional bird abuser.

For the next three days, He Yuanchao turned the thirty-one people into a machine that never stopped running.

Everyone has a specific role.

Everyone has a task.

with no exceptions.

Greg led his "construction team" to work feverishly in the camp. This former firefighter was a natural foreman—loud, hot-tempered, and efficient. He commanded his dozen or so men with remarkable clarity, and although those being yelled at didn't look too pleased, the work was indeed done quickly and well.

Within three days, the campsite transformed from a riverbank dotted with tents into a small, nascent outpost.

First is the accommodation.

Six wooden cabins were erected—not the fancy little cabins, but simple sheds made of sturdy pine logs pieced together and covered with tarpaulin and bark. Each cabin could fit four or five people, and was much sturdier than tents, at least protecting them from strong winds.

The cabin's floor was made of wooden planks, which was like heaven compared to sleeping directly on the ground.

He Yuanchao built the last room himself—the "medical room." During the construction process, he secretly added several layers of insulation material taken from the system space into the wall cavities, disguising it as "soundproofing cotton taken from the helicopter wreckage."

Then there's the fence.

The original crooked barbed wire fence was completely demolished and rebuilt.

The new fence was designed by He Yuanchao himself—a double-layered structure. The outer layer consisted of three rolls of barbed wire brought back from the town, stretched across wooden stakes with sharpened tips, reaching up to an adult's chest. The inner layer was a shallow moat, about half a meter wide and forty centimeters deep, with sharpened bamboo sticks stuck into the bottom.

There was also a layer of broken glass between the trench and the barbed wire—collected from broken bottles in the town's supermarket.

Zombies won't necessarily be killed by stepping on them, but they will at least trip or slow down, giving the shooters inside time to aim.

The gate had a double design—the outer gate was a wooden fence gate that could slide horizontally, while the inner gate was welded with iron pipes and wires (it was welded with a small gasoline welding machine that was brought back from the hardware store, and He Yuanchao operated it himself).

He Yuanchao also built a wooden platform, about 1.5 meters high, on each side of the gate – a "watchtower." Although not very high, it was enough to see what was happening within a 20-meter radius of the camp. A hunting rifle and a box of ammunition were placed on each watchtower.

The water source problem has also been solved.

River water was introduced into the camp through a makeshift filtration device made of PVC pipes and gauze. The water underwent primary filtration through a layer of sand and gravel, and then entered the nano-water purifier that He Yuanchao had taken from the "system space"—its outer shell disguised as a military water bottle—for deep filtration.

Although the water still needs to be boiled before drinking, at least we don't have to run to the river to fetch water every time.

In terms of hygiene.

He Yuanchao dug a decent outhouse in the corner of the camp, downwind and furthest from the living area. He enclosed it with wooden planks and covered it with a thatched roof. Although it was incredibly rudimentary, it was at least a hundred times better than relieving oneself anywhere.

"More people die from infection in the apocalypse than from being bitten by zombies," He Yuanchao said when explaining why they went to the trouble of digging toilets. "Remember, hygiene is the first line of defense. It's more important than fences."

No one refuted him.

After the catastrophe in Raccoon City, everyone had a profound understanding of the word "infection".

Three days.

From having nothing to being able to shelter from the wind and rain, defend against foreign enemies, and drink clean water.

This speed wouldn't be anything special in the old world—a job that a construction team could probably finish in two days.

But in the end times.

With only thirty-one people, half of whom were elderly, weak, women and children, and all tools had to be scavenged.

This is already a miracle.

The evening of the third day.

He Yuanchao stood at the highest point of the camp—next to the sentry post near the hillside—overlooking their "home".

The six wooden cabins cast warm shadows in the light of the campfire.

The barbed wire fence reflected the afterglow of the setting sun, resembling a low, silver city wall.

The river flowed quietly past the campsite.

On the distant mountain ridge, several birds drew arcs in the sky.

Ugly?

Ox.

Compared to the industrial empire he built in the world of Bright Sword, this camp is practically a primitive society.

but--

This is a beginning.

He Yuanchao's greatest skill is turning insignificant beginnings into earth-shattering endings.

He pulled out the "improved seed packet" that he hadn't opened from his pocket.

The seal was torn open.

Inside were dozens of dark green seeds, each slightly larger than a normal vegetable seed, with a thin, slightly shimmering membrane on its surface.

He Yuanchao poured the seeds into his palm and weighed them in his hand.

tomorrow.

Time to get back to farming.