Looking at the gun in his hand, Ghost Head’s mind was flooded with distant mories once again. The breeze stirred, lifting waves in the wheat fields. Holding a thin bamboo stick he had picked up by the roadside, he chased the wind. The fragrance of flowers lingered in the air, irresistible to him. The wind danced over a babbling creek; the air was so fresh, it felt as though he had returned to those tis—playing with kids his age in the stream, searching for crabs. Not too many, not too few, but whenever he managed to catch one, it filled him with joy. Coming back to reality, there was no fresh air, nor was there any so-called breeze.
In this wasteland city, the air was heavy and suffused with the stench of rotting corpses. Even the wind felt as though it cut through him like three winters—bone-chilling cold.
"Assemble!"
Not yet fully shaken from his recollection, Ghost Head heard the sergeant’s furious bellow. He jolted, stood up in a hurry, and those players in the distance—likely just getting into their ga—hadn’t even sunk into it before being interrupted, their displeasure evident. However, they dared not voice their frustration. Instead, they buried their feelings deep within, silently standing and quickly assembling alongside the other soldiers.
The sergeant strode to the front of the formation. As before, his fingers swiped continuously across the tablet he held. People could see the blurry images reflected in his eyes, while his frown deepened. Sowhere unknown to them, the situation was worsening.
Thousands of soldiers stood silently on the street. The eerie lack of sound was unsettling. All eyes fixated on the sergeant. Before long, he pulled out his phone, dialing swiftly. The mont the line connected, he roared: "Goddamn it, hurry up!"
"Now! Do you hear ? I’m bringing them over right now. If you’re not ready when we arrive, you’re dead to ! I’ll personally kill you when I get back!"
Slamming the phone down in anger, the sergeant finally turned to face the soldiers. He skipped the speeches and barked directly, "Everyone, get in the trucks!"
"Yes, sir!"
With one broad wave of his hand, dozens of heavily armored transport vehicles rumbled toward them. As the first soldier stepped into the truck, Ghost Head couldn’t help feeling his nerves coil tightly.
"Is it starting...? I... I can’t fail! I have to survive! I must!"
Watching the soldiers ahead file into the transport vehicles one after another, Ghost Head turned to glance at a yellow flower swaying in the wind. It was so inconspicuous, yet at this mont, it beca his emotional anchor. The one desire he clung to was to co back alive and see this flower swaying in the wind once more. Perhaps, in that instant, his heart would be overwheld with emotion.
With many roads blocked in the city center, the massive transport vehicles occupied a significant amount of space. Just a few entering had already clogged the streets entirely. But the drivers inside weren’t deterred. It had been more than ten years since the post-apocalyptic outbreak, and human technology had advanced significantly. These transport vehicles, equipped with ultra-hard H-steel, could bulldoze through obstacles like tanks!
When rear vehicles found that normal pathways couldn’t access their destination, the drivers simply drove into adjacent buildings. Under collision, pre-apocalypse structures crumbled as easily as tofu, while the transport vehicles plowed forcefully through the rubble!
With veteran soldiers leading the way up front, even the inexperienced rookies swiftly followed suit and piled into the transport vehicles. Fortunately, there were enough trucks available, and the process didn’t take long—roughly seven or eight minutes. But the sergeant seed dissatisfied. Once everyone was inside, he hollered furiously!
"Bunch of damn turtles, huh? A few years ago, you’d have died at least eight hundred tis over with your sluggish pace! Next ti, move faster! Got it? As fast as possible! Leaders, let’s go! To rit Avenue—soone’s waiting for us there!"
"Yes, sir."
The convoy started up quickly. After the sergeant ducked into the foremost transport vehicle, a young man next to Ghost Head muttered under his breath, "Damn bastard, all he does is yap."
Ghost Head glanced at the young man’s face without responding. He knew the soldier was referring to the sergeant, though from his perspective, the sergeant wasn’t all bad—his words might have been harsh, but otherwise, he seed competent. Ghost Head had a decent impression of him.
The young man, judging by the blood aura around him, was also a Level 2 New Human. He looked about seventeen or eighteen years old, and judging by his outward appearance, his actual age probably wasn’t far off.
Perhaps sothing clicked in his mind, prompting Ghost Head to instinctively step further away from the guy. Based on a decade of surviving in the post-apocalyptic wasteland, if his guess was correct, the young man would have been around six or seven years old when the outbreak first began—a true product of growing up in the apocalypse!
And people like that—each and every one of them—were ruthless killers!
Growing up in an environnt like the wasteland, their worldview was even more warped than that of the adults. Ghost Head had seen plenty of five-, six-, seven-, or eight-year-old children carrying guns and killing freely during mid-apocalypse tis. They had no sense of guilt—it was like they were devil’s spawn!
"Uncle? What’s wrong? You scared?"
Ghost Head’s subtle movents were quickly noticed by the young man, who cast a glance his way. Ghost Head avoided his eyes and pretended to be busy with sothing, walking off to the side. However, it seed the guy had a good idea of what Ghost Head was thinking, and he let out a smug snort. That snort, though, annoyed soone so much that a burly man stepped in imdiately.
"Shut your mouth, you little punk!"
Hearing soone curse at him, the young man froze montarily, then turned sharply to the burly man, his expression instantly taking on a bloodthirsty edge!
"Say that again, I dare you?"
The burly man began laughing, utterly unfazed by the young man’s dark expression.
"Ha! What are you gonna do if I don’t shut up? You little brat!"
Glancing back to check the situation, Ghost Head distanced himself even further. Both of them were dangerous; he couldn’t afford to cross either.
Ignoring the young man’s venomous gaze, the burly man opened his mouth once more, spat out another insult, and before the words had fully settled, the young man vanished in an instant!
"Huh?"
The burly man frowned, turning to look to his right. There he saw the young man shoving through the crowd with large strides toward him. His hand clenched tightly into a fist, and he swung it straight at the burly man’s face!
"You’ve got guts!" The burly man didn’t hesitate, stepping forward to block the punch with his arm.
As his strike was deflected, a cold grin spread across the young man’s face. He spun swiftly, aiming his other hand at the burly man’s waist with a precise jab—quick and ruthless, though perhaps not lethal just yet.
Watching the fight break out, the surrounding crowd didn’t step in to stop them. Instead, they retreated to the edges, faces lit with anticipation, eager for the chaos to unfold further. In the wasteland, even watching conflicts had beco a form of entertainnt.
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