70: Blow it up with one shot! This garbage doesn't even deserve to be called a fortress.

Billowing black smoke still rose from the ruins on the shore, and the air was thick with the smell of char and sulfur.

The Lv5 Deep Sea form of the black iron, like a satiated abyss beast, hovered beside the Furnace Gang's former private dock.

The dark silver Biological Armor on the hull's surface was slowly pulsing, as if digesting the kinetic energy from the recent impact.

Jiang Ran was just about to control the Mechanical Arm to grab a few containers that looked relatively intact when he was hurriedly stopped by Old Chen.

"Stop, stop, stop! Don't waste the electricity!"

Old Chen leaned against the porthole, pointing at the containers with a look of disdain: "Those are just filled with moldy old rice and refurbished second-hand guns. They were treasures to us before, but now?

They're just space-consuming trash."

Jiang Ran raised an eyebrow, his finger hovering over the holographic control sphere: "Then where do you suggest we go?"

"To the left, three o'clock. See that half-collapsed concrete bunker?"

Old Chen gestured, a glint of cunning in his eyes, like a rat sniffing out the scent of oil: "One-Eye, that bastard, is a real rat; the truly good stuff is hidden in the basement."

Under Old Chen's direction, the black iron adjusted its position.

The heavy bio-Mechanical Arm, which had undergone multiple evolutions, slammed into the collapsed concrete ruins.

Accompanied by the roar of hydraulic pumps and the crisp snap of breaking rebar, the heavy bunker lid was pried open by brute force.

There was no stench of rot.

Instead, a strong, intoxicating scent of industrial grease wafted out.

It was an entire warehouse of grey metal ingots stacked neatly, along with over a dozen deep-blue oil drums sealed with lead.

"W18 High-Speed Tool Steel, and refined aviation kerosene."

Old Chen sniffed, looking entranced as if it were a woman's fragrance:

"This is the wealth the Furnace Gang spent five years amassing.

Those hillbillies couldn't bear to use it, and now it's all ours."

Jiang Ran watched the lines of 'High Purity' appearing on the scanner, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly.

These special steels were excellent materials for reinforcing internal precision components.

And those barrels of aviation kerosene were high-grade goods that couldn't be bought in this area at all, enough for the black iron to race at full power for thousands of kilometers.

"Get to work."

Jiang Ran was concise. The Mechanical Arm dropped quickly, bypassing all the junk and precisely moving only these 'industrial gold bars' into the cargo hold.

As for the cash, gold and silver jewelry, and ordinary supplies floating on the water, the current black iron didn't even spare them a glance.

In this apocalyptic world, only things that can be converted into combat power deserve to be called wealth... Outside the cabin, on the river, the shrill cold wind howled, carrying the embers of the ruins.

Inside the black iron's crew living quarters, however, it was a completely different scene.

The air was filled with a strong, pungent aroma of beef tallow and chili that was enough to bring tears to the eyes of any wasteland survivor.

It was half a pack of Chongqing hotpot base that Old Chen had scavenged from the Furnace Gang leader's private stash.

At this moment, red oil was bubbling and boiling in a stainless steel basin.

Beside it were several cans of sliced luncheon meat and some dehydrated vegetables.

These were things that could be found everywhere in old era supermarkets.

But now, laid out on this iron table welded to the deck, it was nothing short of a royal feast.

"Pop."

A soft sound.

Jiang Ran casually set an unlabeled glass bottle in the center of the table.

The bottle was covered in a thin layer of dust, but the liquid inside was clear and bright. Even before the cap was opened, one could almost smell the sharp essence of grain.

"I've been hiding this for quite a while."

Jiang Ran said flatly. He reached out and took three enamel mugs, ignoring any drinking etiquette, and poured half a mug for each person.

"Today... we survived."

There were no rousing toasts or tearful outbursts of relief.

Old Chen stared at the drink in front of him, his Adam's apple bobbing violently.

He rubbed his large, oil-stained, and frostbitten hands vigorously on his trouser legs before carefully picking up the enamel mug.

He held it as if it were a fragile treasure.

"Good stuff... This is brewed from real grain, not that watered-down industrial alcohol."

Old Chen's voice was a bit hoarse.

Beside him, Su Qingyu still didn't speak.

She had taken off her heavy protective suit and was wearing only a thin combat vest, revealing slender arms with smooth muscle lines.

She silently held her long chopsticks.

She precisely picked up a few slices of luncheon meat, dipped them into the boiling red soup for seven seconds, and then placed them into Jiang Ran's and Old Chen's bowls respectively.

The rising steam blurred the exhaustion on the three's faces.

An unprecedented atmosphere called 'stability' quietly grew in this small iron room.

A gulp of high-proof white liquor went down, burning a trail of fire down his throat.

Old Chen's withered, blackened face, worn by years of river winds, turned visibly red.

According to the routine of this journey, even if he drank too much, the old man would always mutter the same few things:

"This job is too dangerous," "Settle my wages at the next outpost," "I want to go back to shore and retire."

Jiang Ran drank his liquor slowly, waiting to hear those familiar complaints.

However, today, the dining table was unusually quiet.

Old Chen drank cup after cup, head down as he ate meat, his eyes a bit glazed, yet he never mentioned the word "leave."

Suddenly.

"Clang!"

Old Chen slammed the empty enamel mug heavily onto the iron table, causing the red oil in the pot to splash out.

He wiped his mouth haphazardly and roughly pulled a roll of crumpled blueprints from his oil-stained chest, slapping them down in front of Jiang Ran.

"I can't take it anymore!"

Old Chen let out a boozy burp and, fueled by the alcohol, pointed at the blueprints and cursed, spittle flying:

"This liquor is good, but this ship's current suspension system is a pile of shit! A literal pile of shit!"

He used his chopsticks to poke forcefully at the hand-drawn sketch, making the paper rustle loudly.

"Look at this shock absorption damping, it's all rigid connections!

It's fine for running in the river, but if we reach the estuary and hit swells over two meters, even if the three of us aren't shaken to death, we'll vomit out our gall bladders!

This kind of garbage design is an insult to my craftsmanship!"

Jiang Ran looked down.

It was a blueprint drawn on the back of something, covered in dense rewiring plans for the hydraulic suspension and balance rudders.

The ink had smudged in some places, clearly not drawn just now; the old man had been pondering this for days.

After finishing his rant, Old Chen seemed like a deflated ball. He poured himself another half cup and muttered:

"It has to be changed... otherwise, once we leave the river, we're dead."

Jiang Ran picked up the blueprint stained with beef tallow.

He didn't rush to look at the parameters but gave a meaningful look at the old man across from him, who was still acting drunk.

A temporary worker who only thought about taking the money and leaving would never worry about whether this ship would fall apart in the deep sea thousands of kilometers away.

Only someone who treated this place as their own territory and this ship as their own work would be so agitated by potential hazards that hadn't happened yet.

This blueprint wasn't a repair plan at all.

It was Old Chen's pledge of loyalty.

"Don't bang on the table."

Jiang Ran casually folded the blueprint, his movements light but very solemn as he tucked it into his jacket pocket.

He didn't expose Old Chen's awkward pride, nor did he say any sentimental nonsense about 'welcome to the team.'

In this world, trusting someone with your back is more practical than any oath.

"Is that batch of W18 special steel we just brought back enough?"

Jiang Ran looked up and asked, his tone as calm as if they were discussing tomorrow's weather.

Old Chen froze for a moment, seemingly not expecting Jiang Ran to agree so readily without even asking, "Are you staying?"

His red face strained for a moment, then he forcefully stabbed his chopsticks into the luncheon meat.

" Barely enough！ But we still need to disassemble a few hydraulic pumps for auxiliary use.... besides， The workload is very large， I can't handle it alone.！"

"zero will assist you, and Su Qingyu will be your helper."

Jiang Ran raised his mug and lightly clinked it against the one in front of Old Chen, making a crisp clinking sound.

"Any other requirements?"

"None!"

Old Chen tilted his head and drained the mug, wiped his mouth, his eyes gleaming:

"Give me three days.

In three days, if I let this ship have even a hint of vibration, I'll write my name, Old Chen, backwards!"

At this moment, the barrier between employer and employee completely dissolved with this glass of strong liquor... Early the next morning after the victory feast, the black iron weighed anchor and set sail.

As the engine's power output increased, the oppressive high-rise ruins and withered black trees on both banks began to recede rapidly.

The Wan River channel, originally narrow and winding, filled with reefs and shipwrecks, became wider and wider in their vision until the shorelines on both sides became a blurred gray line.

Jiang Ran stood alone on the open deck at the very front of the bridge.

The wind was strong, making his clothes rustle loudly.

But he didn't retreat into the cabin; instead, he squinted slightly, his nostrils flaring, greedily capturing the subtle change in the air.

That nauseating smell of sulfur, rotting corpses, and industrial exhaust that had clung to them for months finally faded.

In its place was a moist, slightly fishy, yet incredibly vast scent. It was salt.

Although the river water beneath them was still murky, Jiang Ran knew they had crossed that invisible boundary.

The Wan River Industrial Zone behind them—that 'newbie village' full of schemes, betrayals, and the daily routine of scavenging—had been completely left behind.

A very slight, resilient vibration came from the deck beneath his feet.

That was Old Chen's newly modified suspension system, filtering the impact of the waves.

This Lv5 bio-mechanical ship.

Was like a young deep-sea hunter, eager to rush into the hunting ground that truly belonged to it.

"core, mark the course."

Jiang Ran's voice sounded exceptionally calm in the wind.

[Coordinates confirmed: Estuary.]

[Danger level of the sea area ahead: Extremely High.]

Looking at the deep blue area representing the unknown in his holographic vision, a sharp arc formed at the corner of Jiang Ran's mouth.

He didn't look back at the wasteland behind him; his gaze was fixed firmly on the end of the horizon where the sea met the sky.

"We're heading into the sea."

Accompanied by a long blast of the siren that pierced through the clouds.

The black iron cleaved through the giant waves, turning into a silver sword, and sailed resolutely toward that vast and menacing deep blue.