"Technician Han, did you go on a supply run or a demolition job?"
Zhou Ping's round figure came jogging over.
He looked at the empty ammunition boxes, the pain written all over his face.
"A thousand rounds of 30mm armor-piercing incendiary shells!"
"That's fifty thousand Contribution Points!"
"How long were you even gone? Two hours?"
"And you used them all up already?"
Zhou Ping was heartbroken, as if it wasn't shells being fired, but his own money.
Han Feng jumped down from the aircraft and tossed his helmet to the ground crew nearby.
He grinned.
"Director Zhou, don't just look at the cost. Look at the revenue."
Following the direction Han Feng was pointing, three fully loaded transport trucks were slowly driving into the acquisition area.
The truck beds were piled high with the corpses of various Demon Beasts, most of them killed with a single, head-splitting shot.
