Those women were all quite attractive—their fair skin could rival that of a blow-up doll—but barcodes, the kind you’d only see on merchandise, were tattooed on their cheeks.

　　Apparently satisfied with the “goods,” the merchant who paid with Ajing instructed his men to load the women onto a truck, then drove away from the market.

　　“Xinrui Grand Hotel.” Squinting in the direction the truck had gone, Grace Bennett spoke slowly.

　　Jason Carter noticed that, without realizing it, Grace Bennett’s hands had already clenched into fists.

　　“A hotel?”

　　“It’s nothing but a den of debauchery.” Grace Bennett spat lightly. “They provide guests with all-around ‘services’—you know exactly what kind. There, female slaves are consumables, since there are all kinds of perverts in the world. I once heard a not-so-bright guy bragging in a bar in Liuding Town about how tender the flesh of the girls at Xinrui Hotel was… in the culinary sense.”

　　Jason Carter shivered; he could already imagine the hell those expressionless girls were about to face.

　　“That human trafficker probably belongs to the faction occupying Vault 101. Using cloning technology and nutrient solution incubators to produce low-cost clones—what those technologies create are less like humans and more like commodities.”

　　“So, what exactly is a vault?” Jason Carter looked incredulously at Grace Bennett’s emotionless eyes and asked with difficulty.

　　“It’s a very peculiar thing. Each vault has a different design philosophy, all aiming for maximum survival efficiency.” Grace Bennett shrugged. “I was born in Vault 071, and looking back, I guess I was pretty lucky. The design there was to regulate personalities with fixed routines. Life was rigid, but at least it was happy. Some vaults weren’t so fortunate.”

　　After speaking, a cruel smile, out of place for her age, appeared on Grace Bennett’s beautiful face.

　　“I once heard that Vault 070’s design was to have people rule over people, motivating survival by creating a spiritual leader… shows how naïve the prewar designers were. It’s said that less than ten years after the vault’s doors closed, it turned into hell. That so-called ‘moral model’ only upheld justice for a few years before forgetting all civilized restraint and becoming a tribal chief. Heh, rumor has it he abused his security privileges to absurdly wipe out all the men, leaving only women as his playthings… As for Vault 101, I’d guess it’s an uninhabited vault.”

　　Shocked by such cruelty, Jason Carter swallowed hard. But there was still something about Grace Bennett’s words he didn’t understand.

　　“An uninhabited vault? Why would you need a vault if there’s no one in it?”

　　“Heh, of course. They stored the DNA data of elites from all walks of life, and after the vault’s set duration, they’d activate the embryo incubators to automatically ‘produce’ those perfect bodies, then use virtual reality systems to give them over a decade’s worth of ‘memories’ in a short time. Heh, who knows what meaning those products walking out of the tanks really have. Did the prewar designers already realize these commodities would be so popular in the postwar wasteland?” Grace Bennett’s words were laced with undisguised sarcasm. Standing to the side, Jason Carter couldn’t help but fall silent.

　　Is this the end of civilization…

　　“We’re here.” Grace Bennett’s brief words interrupted Jason Carter’s thoughts, and she pulled him to the entrance of a shop.

　　This was the official acquisition station on the outskirts of the Sixth District market, responsible for appraising and purchasing goods needed by the camp. Although things like canned food and batteries could be used directly as currency in some survivor camps, such trading rules clearly didn’t apply to the “prosperous” Sixth District. So, a credible organization was needed to implement a unified currency. It also made tax collection easier.

　　Ajing, as the main energy source for high-powered equipment, was in rigid demand at any survivor base. Its portability also made it ideal as a circulating currency.

　　Although opening a shop to sell canned food would be more profitable, the “not short on money” Jason Carter naturally chose the most convenient way—selling those expensive cans to the most impartial official of the Sixth District.

　　Grace Bennett didn’t try to persuade him otherwise; it was clear she didn’t want to stay here long either.

　　“The goods.” A mechanical, practiced response came from the window.

　　Seeing Grace Bennett gesture to him, Jason Carter took off his backpack and placed an item from inside onto the table.

　　“Hiss…” The trader at the window sucked in a breath.

　　From that tone, Jason Carter finally heard a trace of incredulous shock, and at the same time, he felt several greedy, naked stares burning into his back.

　　Shivering involuntarily, Jason Carter looked helplessly at Grace Bennett for guidance. Grace Bennett smiled and signaled that he needn’t worry—after all, no one would dare break the rules here. At least, not before they left the Sixth District.

　　“Do you have any more goods, sir?” This time, the voice even carried a hint of respect.