Nan Muran quickly helped him up. “No need to bow to me like that.”

“You saved my wife. That’s the same as saving our whole family,” Jiawu said, his voice slightly hoarse.

Nan Muran nodded. “I’ll give you the chance to repay me.” She wasn’t sure what Jiawu felt about his past experiences, so she didn’t immediately share her plans.

“Oh, by the way, the renovation company will be coming to the villa tomorrow. What do you plan to do?”

“There’s a cave with a hot spring up in the mountain behind the villa. We can stay there,” Jiawu quickly replied.

“Good.”

Because of Si Ye, Nan Muran was willing to trust Jiawu as much as possible. But she wasn’t afraid of betrayal either. First, Jiawu’s wife still relied on her to survive. Second, she had Xiaoliu—if Jiawu ever turned on her, Xiaoliu could take him out in an instant.

Stepping out of the villa, she saw the real estate agent still standing by the door, looking worried.

She smiled and said, “Let’s go back together.”

Seeing Nan Muran safe, the agent finally let out a long breath. “Okay.”

On the way, he told her about the person who wanted to buy the Nan family’s villa in Dingcheng Garden—a nouveau riche who had made a fortune off loan platforms in recent years. A bit ruthless, and had offered sixty million straight up.

Nan Muran nodded. People like that usually had dirty hands, making them perfect to deal with the Nan family. “Tell him sixty-four million. Not a cent less. If he agrees, set a time to sign the contract. If not, we wait for the next buyer.”

The more ruthless they are, the more they care about recognition from high society. Nan Muran bet that the man would accept the price.

“No problem.” The agent felt confident after hearing the price Nan Muran set.

Sure enough, the buyer quickly agreed and scheduled the signing right away.

The next day, when Nan Muran saw the buyer at the agency—a burly man in a black suit with a shaved head, gold chain, and that unmistakable “gangster” look—she was even more satisfied.

Only someone like this could keep those ungrateful, cowardly Nan family members in check.

After finalizing the contract, Nan Muran went to the 22nd floor of the core commercial building in West City’s high-tech zone—to a security firm called Tianshield.

After hearing her requirements, the person in charge couldn’t help but laugh. “Your specs exceed the standard for a doomsday bunker.”

Forget the 360-degree surveillance, self-sufficient power and water, and six-constant climate system—the entire structure would be reinforced with ultra-thick steel plates, including the roof, foundation, and basement. That alone was already insane.

Not to mention, she wanted world-class bulletproof, explosion-resistant glass for the windows, top-tier insulation inside and out, an elevator, and various hidden mechanisms.

This wasn’t just a house—it was a steel box for both comfortable living and killing.

Forget people and small arms—even a main battle tank would think twice before messing with it.

“Exactly. I assume your company’s handled quite a few similar projects in recent years?” Nan Muran asked calmly.

After all, no matter which country, what rich people feared most was having money but no life.

So it wasn’t surprising that many tycoons around the world had secret doomsday bunkers—just rarely exposed by the media.

The manager nodded with a smile. “You rich folks really know how to play. Don’t worry, we’ll take the job—and you’ll be satisfied.”

After she wired them a 15-million-yuan down payment, the crew was scheduled to begin construction the next day, with a one-month completion time.

After leaving Tianshield, Nan Muran visited the most high-end interior design firm in West City.

She had already sketched out the layout and style for the villa—just needed them to follow the blueprint. Even with everything simplified, the total cost still hit five million.

Once everything was arranged, she resumed stockpiling supplies into her spatial warehouse. By the time the fourth level of the virtual supermarket was filled—a full 100,000 cubic meters—she finally notified Wang Yu to restore Shenghui’s procurement volume to its previous level.

After fifteen days of bizarre operations, Wang Yu felt like his hair had turned white from the stress.

Eventually, he realized something was off.

As the actual manager of Shenghui Group, he knew full well that the supplies Nan Muran ordered had never entered the supermarket’s supply chain.

As for where they went—he genuinely didn’t know.

But no one else would notice anything suspicious. Shenghui’s warehouses were big enough, and suppliers came and went all the time.

Wang Yu was a discreet man and didn’t pry. Instead, he even reminded the warehouse team to keep things low-key.

From his perspective, as long as Shenghui Group kept operating and his job stayed secure, that was enough.

With the supermarket inventory handled, Nan Muran started tackling the rest of her stockpile list and was incredibly glad she had taken over Shenghui first.

Because the suppliers under the supermarket were absolute goldmines in times like this.

Who would’ve thought that a rice seller could source gas, or a fruit supplier could pivot to selling saplings? The meat guy had clothing connections, the home goods seller doubled as an outdoor gear dealer, and some of them could even dig up contacts for jet skis, boats, coal, and even black market oil.

Looking at her almost-fully-checked-off supply list in under two weeks, Nan Muran had to admit: the world really was a big circle of connections.

Buying in bulk through referrals, with one call getting things delivered to your door—and at discounted prices too. Stockpiling like this? Easy and satisfying.

The only downside was that after all this spending, she only had just over one hundred million left in her account.

Then right on time, Nan Qiao’s stocks sold—raking in a full 1.8 billion yuan. Clearly, Guo Lu’s handiwork had played a role in that.

At first, Nan Muran planned to wire the extra money to Guo Fei, but then remembered the apocalypse was coming. Money would be useless—she gave up on the idea.

With everything prepped, Nan Muran began planning her trip abroad.

She had no issue with the language, but since she was buying dangerous items, she obviously couldn’t just shout about it in the streets.

Plus, many of the things she wanted were restricted even over there. So she needed someone with the right connections.

After wracking her brain, she thought of Guo Fei—he had contacts abroad from past mergers and acquisitions.

Top-tier lawyers had connections in both legal and shady circles, no matter where they were. He’d definitely be able to help.

“Going on a trip? Sure,” Guo Fei said. “I’ve got a friend over there who speaks fluent Mandarin. They can look after you.”

Guo Fei didn’t suspect a thing—Nan Muran had always traveled abroad for artistic inspiration.

After sending the tank to Guo Fei for safekeeping, Nan Muran bought her ticket and departed.

It was only mid-flight that she remembered—graduation was in a few days. She chuckled bitterly. The apocalypse was coming; what was the point of a diploma? A packet of instant noodles would probably be more useful.

At the destination, she was greeted by a 1.9-meter-tall, blue-eyed, blond hunk with a strong build named Ivan.

He and Guo Fei had been exchange students together in China, and had been friends for over a year.

When Ivan saw Nan Muran, he looked pleasantly shocked. “You’re Guo’s sister?”

“Yeah. Sorry to trouble you these next few days,” she said, delighted by his perfect Mandarin.

When he heard her actual purpose for the trip, Ivan was dumbfounded. Your country even needs this kind of stuff? Totally unnecessary, right?

Nan Muran had to lie and say she planned to go to Africa and needed it for self-defense.

She also asked him to keep everything secret from Guo Fei, even naming a few weapon models that were strictly banned from private purchase.

Ivan clearly wanted to say no—but when she looked at him with those beautiful eyes, the word wouldn’t come out.

So Nan Muran successfully got introduced to the biggest arms dealer in the region.

The burly, bearded man showed her exactly what “If you have money, I’ll risk my life to get you the goods” meant.

Not just guns and artillery—he had tanks, and even the latest fighter jets.

As Nan Muran was still considering whether to buy a jet, the man had one circle overhead and do a long-range firepower display.

Okay, it was tempting.

But the dream shattered as soon as she heard the price.

“How much? What did you say?” Nan Muran had never raised her voice so loud in her life—she was shocked.

“Converted to RMB, five hundred million.” The man held up five fingers again to emphasize.

Nan Muran instantly deflated. She wanted it, sure—and it was cool—but way out of her budget. Damn, this little cutie was that expensive? That one burst of firepower just now must’ve cost millions!

This guy really was the real deal. Respect.