Chapter 215: Chapter 215: Preparations
"I don’t," Ivy smirked; there was a challenge in her eyes, as if she was daring Julia to continue. Yet from the corner where Julia couldn’t see, Ivy’s hand moved.
"I will make a fake report claiming that Silas wants to hoard the firearms and is maybe planning a rebellion." Julia felt satisfied with her smartness. Now that she had caught the fox’s tail, she would make sure to expose it.
"Oh?" Ivy sounded curious, a glint flashing in her eyes. "But where is the proof?"
"Proof?" Julia laughed as if she had heard a joke. "When planting suspicion, we don’t need proof. At most, I will fabricate fake bills that demonstrate, on paper, how you purchased all the firearms."
"Ah? That’s awful then." Ivy shook her head, expressing her regret, and stood up, intending to leave. Julia didn’t stop her, her hands clasped in front of her, thinking she had won this round.
"By the way, I have something intriguing. I will play it before I leave." Ivy paused and then turned on the recording.
The moment Julia heard ’play,’ she knew she was doomed. And sure enough, the next second, she heard her voice and the conversation that had happened a few minutes ago.
"You! You dare to record!" Julia pointed at Ivy in exasperation.
"If you dare to fake bills, why can’t I dare to record?" Ivy waved her hand nonchalantly.
"You! This is against the law!" Julia, having no retort, decided to opt for the legal route.
"Aww! Our Julia baby doesn’t understand, does she?" Ivy’s words, laced with mockery, echoed in the silent tent: "In an apocalypse, there is no such thing as law."
"You want half of the firearms, right? I will give it. Just delete the recording." Julia knew the damage the recording could do.
In the future, Ivy could repeatedly blackmail her with the recording; even worse, she might submit it to higher authorities or give it to Silas. If Silas plays the recording during a meeting, she would lose her position.
Ivy chuckled and shook her head. "I have changed my mind. Now I want one-third of the firearms."
"Ivy, you are being greedy!" Julia almost shouted.
Ivy tilted her head, her voice slow and steady.
"No. I think you’re greedy. But unlike you, I don’t push too far. One-third is fair. I get what I want, and you still keep more than I do. Doesn’t that sound lovely?"
Julia’s fists tightened under the table. Her nails dug into her palms, but she forced a bitter laugh.
"Fine. One third. But you delete the recording. Right here, right now."
Ivy shook her head lightly, amusement flickering in her eyes.
"Delete it? Why should I? Don’t worry, Julia, I won’t spread it unless you push me again. Think of it as... insurance."
Julia slammed her palm on the table. "You witch!"
Ivy laughed softly. "If that makes you feel better, then sure."
After closing the deal, she whistled and left. Having secured the firearms for her base, Ivy resolved her worries and proceeded to prepare some additional supplies.
First was the cotton clothes. There weren’t any sellers; however, a few of the rich people who had hoarded food had hoarded cotton clothes too.
She had also arranged a meeting with one of those wealthy individuals and was on her way to meet them.
Ivy soon arrived at the agreed-upon location for the deal.
The sun was harsh, and the ground under her shoes felt like fire. She slowed her steps when she saw someone coming toward her.
It wasn’t the rich person.
Instead, a tall bodyguard walked her way, holding two bags in his hands. His face had no expression, just cold eyes watching her.
’I knew it. He’s not going to show up by himself. He’s hiding behind his men. Rich people are all the same. Afraid to get their hands dirty.’
The bodyguard stopped a few steps away from her and asked in a expressionless voice,
"Did you bring the exchange items?"
Ivy smiled lightly and gave a small nod.
She raised her hand, and with a quick wave, several bags appeared on the ground beside her.
The bodyguard’s eyes flicked to the bags, and he crouched down to check them.
He opened one and saw the white grains shining under the sun. Pure rice.
He nodded once, confirming. "Good."
Without another word, he took the rice and pushed the bags he carried toward Ivy.
Ivy didn’t rush. She bent down and opened them.
Inside, she saw piles of cotton.
Not ready-made clothes, but raw cotton cloths neatly folded. Her fingers brushed over the soft fabric, and she let out a small breath.
’Perfect. These will do. Even if they’re not ready to wear, we can turn them into clothes quickly. Cotton will help everyone breathe in this heat. At least my family won’t be suffering like the others.’
Ivy tied the cotton bags tight and lifted them up. They were heavy, but her steps were light.
’This is good. But not enough. Cotton alone won’t solve everything. The heat is only going to get worse. I need more.’
Back at her base, she dropped off the bags and went out again.
This time, her meeting was with an old man who had hoarded clay pots.
When Ivy arrived, he looked nervous, clutching the pots like they were treasure.
"What do you want for them?" Ivy asked.
The man eyed her carefully. "Dried fish. A small sack."
Ivy waved her hand, and a sack of dried fish appeared.
What she doesn’t lack in apocalypse... was fish.
The man checked, sniffing at the fish, and finally nodded. He passed over the clay pots one by one.
Ivy touched them and smiled.
’Clay pots will keep water cool. Perfect for hot days. People will drink and feel refreshed. No one will get sick from hot water in this base.’
Refrigerators were off-charts. She found neither any seller nor any technologies nor enough materials to prepare them on her own.