"Where are you headed?" Su Ming’an withdrew his hand.
"To the nearest human settlent, Eleventh District," said Steel. "You just stay put. Mairon and I are your saviors. Without us, you’d have frozen to death out there."
"Ah, thank you then," Su Ming’an imdiately said with a smile.
When he smiled, his S level Charm beca even more apparent—even without the black cat on his shoulder, his infectiousness was still astonishing. The Missionary Halo was already subtly influencing those around him.
Steel’s cold gaze faltered, briefly hazy with bewildernt.
The forr Charm Player, Iris, with an S level Charm, had been enough to captivate the world and srize countless people. Even without intending to follow the path of Charm, Su Ming’an’s influence was significant.
Not only did he affect the combat team, but even these two with ulterior motives were spellbound.
"Do people from thirty years ago all have such good charisma?" mumbled Steel, pulling his gaze away.
Next to him, Mairon rested his hands on the steering wheel, a sly smile playing at the corner of his mouth, as if he was scheming sothing.
Su Ming’an looked down at the Tracking Compass—the distance between him and Dong An’an was closing; she must be in that so-called Eleventh District.
This place was like an Apocalypse; outside, all was extre cold wind, with scarce vegetation and water sources. Only small areas of settlent were viable for survival. From the "Eleventh District" code, it seed there were at least eleven human settlents.
What made him uncomfortable was that Steel kept looking back at him, that sticky gaze slowly sweeping over him as if appraising a commodity.
It was a gaze filled with the desire for money.
However, these two were still useful to him. His wheelchair required energy to run, and it was too wasteful to cover fifty kiloters.
The truck sped across the plains, and gradually, human voices started to emanate from outside. Occasionally, groups of five to ten people could be seen—they were generally clad in heavy cotton hats, carrying guns, dragging big hemp bags or cardboard boxes, moving across the lava plains as if they had just returned from gathering resources.
There were also convoys.
High-chassis big trucks, small saloons with modified windows, and long-worm-like limousines that moved like trains without the need for tracks... The vehicles looked like aligned planets or collectively migrating ants, creating a rather spectacular scene.
They reached the inspection checkpoint of the settlent, and the truck braked. An inspector approached, and with a "beep," a red-light-emitting device scanned the resource box on the truck.
"Mairon, just got back?" the bearded inspector asked.
"Yeah, these resources are for Eleventh District," Mairon replied, drawing a cigarette and smiling with the stub in his mouth.
"And who is this?" The inspector looked toward Su Ming’an in the back seat.
Those who went out to gather resources were usually fully ard. The inspector didn’t understand—what was the deal with this guy in plain clothes?
"Found him outside, a hibernator, probably soone from thirty years ago," Mairon said with a laugh. "I’m planning on taking him to et Lin Guang."
Upon hearing this na, a look of terror crossed the inspector’s face, as if he was quite frightened of this "Lin Guang." He glanced at Su Ming’an hesitantly, as if wanting to advise him to leave, but under the intimidating look from Mairon, he said nothing.
Su Ming’an noted this scene.
The truck started up again, carrying its cargo into the city.
Upon entering Eleventh District, the sight that t Su Ming’an’s eyes took him by surprise.
He had assud such a settlent in an apocalyptic world would at best be a group of people exchanging goods, gathering resources, and growing so simple crops.
But... this Eleventh District was on too large a scale.
The stone brick buildings beneath the splendid afterglow resembled towering giants. Shops, residential houses, and factories were closely packed together, with thick black smoke that looked like drifting mists, reminiscent of the Industrial Age.
Transparent glass shimred with colorful spots under the blood-red sun, as motorcycles sped past over the rolling sands, creating a buzzing symphony.
Although it was not yet bustling, with many ruins and unfinished buildings, the scale was already quite intimidating.
Xike automatically scanned the shelter; monts later, it displayed the map. The Eleventh District was divided into communal assemblies, free trade areas, black markets, resource deploynt stations, combat readiness material exchange points, residential and living areas, among others.
Close to the outskirts were fields planted with wheat and potatoes; the further towards the center you went, the taller the buildings beca.
"Stunned, huh?" Mairon, who was driving, boasted, "Did you not expect there to be such sizable gatherings thirty years later?"
"Indeed, not bad," Su Ming’an said.
But that was just it, not bad.
Although Eleventh District appeared prosperous, it was ultimately no match for the City of asurent. It lacked water and electricity, many areas were without lights, and three-fifths of the zone was just abandoned housing, uninhabited.
The faces of the people were generally gloomy, their bodies frail; most of them carried guns, their expressions vigilant, lacking that relaxed and peaceful atmosphere. From ti to ti, the sound of gunfire could be heard.
Su Ming’an noticed that there were many stone statues throughout the gathering place, before which people prostrated themselves in worship, so holding small books in their hands, chanting the words within.
Having unloaded the resource boxes, Mairon’s truck stopped at a free trade post after ten minutes, and a group of people approached to begin unloading.
Upon seeing Su Ming’an, the people were taken aback.
A woman with deep purple hair approached the window, her eyes briefly scanning Su Ming’an like hooks. She asked with a low laugh,
"Mairon, who’s this?"
After pausing for a mont, she laughed again, "What you’ve brought us... as a welfare gift? The quality’s not bad, I liked him at first glance."
As she spoke, several people burst into uproarious laughter, swaying back and forth.
Su Ming’an furrowed his brow slightly.
He discovered that everyone who saw him had so mocking words; did he look that fragile?
Or perhaps... the pressures of life here were so overwhelming that they freely oppressed every "weakling." Since Su Ming’an had no "Source," he was, in their eyes, the weakest of the weak.
His charm value determined that the way people oppressed him was not through fists and violence, but through such mockery.
After all, a person dressed in plain clothes, carrying no weapons for self-defense, appeared more like a dependent weakling than anything else.
"This man, he’s not for you," Mairon scoffed with a cold laugh, tossing Su Ming’an a cotton jacket of poor quality but warm enough:
"Put on an extra layer, it’ll be troubleso if you freeze to death."
Su Ming’an had been wearing a thin white lab coat, which made him stand out from everyone else dressed in heavy cotton.
"No need," Su Ming’an said.
He felt no cold. Even when facing the chilly wind directly, it didn’t affect his movent.
"Heh, suit yourself," Mairon huffed.
...Did this man nad Lewis think he was living thirty years ago?
Having finished unloading, Mairon climbed back into the driver’s seat, and the truck started moving again.
"Isn’t this the Eleventh District, where else do we need to go?" Su Ming’an said.
The co-driver chuckled with a sticky gleam in his eyes, "We’re taking you to the registration office; you’re a newcor, you need to get your identity docunts. Otherwise, if you’re caught by the patrol team in the city, you’ll be treated as a spy."
"Then, it’ll be just—’snap’." Steel made a throat-slitting gesture, grinning maliciously, "They won’t care if you were a high-profile figure thirty years ago; you have no special privileges."
Su Ming’an didn’t speak.
If he wanted to join a camp, it was best to first acquire a legitimate identity.
"You better behave and not get any funny ideas," Steel said. "You don’t have a bit of ’Source’ in you, weak as can be. Forget about venturing outside the city; at best, you could work as a waiter in the city to survive."
Su Ming’an, who was described as "weak as can be," was speechless.
The truck drove in an increasingly remote direction, opposite the location of the "registration office." It even began to climb upward as if scaling a mountain, moving further away from the core of the Eleventh District as the surrounding greenery receded.
But Su Ming’an pretended not to notice, allowing Steel to distract him.
"However, given your deanor... it’d be such a waste for you to be a waiter." Steel smiled faintly, "I think there’s a better place for you. From the first sight of you, I felt you were perfect for that place..."
"Screech—" The truck suddenly braked.
They arrived at a mountain-top villa.
The villa was vast, not only boasting a large garden but also a golf course like a huge playground. White fences surrounded the land, and the air was fragrant with the scent of cream.
This villa was serene, like a paradise on earth.
The truck doors flew open, and Steel suddenly reached out, attempting to shove Su Ming’an out.
Su Ming’an had anticipated this. He grabbed backwards, and with a "crack," a sound of breaking bones was heard.
Before Steel could even scream, Su Ming’an’s hand extended further, "click" breaking the man’s neck. Mairon imdiately raised his gun, aiming and firing at Su Ming’an.
"Ding—"
The bullet struck Su Ming’an’s chest, as if hitting a slab of hard brick, not even penetrating the armor underneath.
"You—" Mairon had never imagined that Su Ming’an, a man without ’Source,’ could unleash such terrifying strength.
With a "click," Su Ming’an twisted the gun out of shape, grabbed Mairon by the throat with one hand, leaned forward, and unleashed monstrous strength, pinning the robust Mairon against the steering wheel, ready to snap his neck at any mont.
"I’m asking you... what is this place?" Su Ming’an gestured towards the luxurious villa outside.
Mairon’s face turned deathly pale, struggling in vain.
...Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!
How could just any person he picked from a hibernation capsule turn out to be such a monster? He couldn’t sense the man’s ’Source’ at all!
"This is Lin Guang’s temporary residence in the Eleventh District; he has been patrolling here recently..." Mairon stamred in reply.
"Who is Lin Guang?" Su Ming’an asked.
"Lin Guang is an ’Agent’ of the ’Deities,’ a person we cannot defy, who can dispose of our lives at will..." Mairon said:
"He, he has a particular interest. He likes people with black hair and grey eyes, regardless of n and won, old and young... Such people are rare. We... we’ve only just found one today. So, I thought I could exchange you for money..."
Su Ming’an frowned.
...Is this Lin Guang a figure similar to the Pope? This world clearly looks so sci-fi, yet they believe in deities?
Science fiction and fantasy are mixed together, what kind of chaotic and absurd world is this?
"What do you an by ’deity’?" Su Ming’an asked.
"No, I can’t say," Mairon’s face showed despair. "If I do, I’ll die, I’ll really die!"
"I’m telling you to speak," Su Ming’an’s finger moved down, close to Mairon’s thick neck, the eroding black light had already lted the surface skin.
Mairon’s originally greasy and sleazy gaze was now filled with extre terror. His inner self struggled, deep fear restraining his lips; he opened his mouth, but could not utter a single word.
"Crack," Su Ming’an’s left hand moved forward and crushed Mairon’s left palm bones with ease.
The strength of the Bright State was great, able to "play" with human bones as if crushing crunchy noodles—sowhat addictive to do.
"Ahhhhhh— "A scream resembling a pig being slaughtered rang out, tears stread from Mairon’s eyes. Seeing Su Ming’an’s hand ready to act again, he said in desperation:
"The deity is—the god that rules over our world! Although they never show themselves, they can indirectly rule our world through cultivating ’agents’ among humans. We must listen to the whispering in our ears, and anyone who defies the oracle will be executed—"
Mairon’s words abruptly ceased.
Mairon’s robust body suddenly toppled to the right, his bulging eyes filled with intense despair and fear.
A silver-white bullet, engraved with butterflies and lilies, flew from Mairon’s right temple, "ting-a-ling" it fell onto the chariot, and only when it hit the ground did blood start to trickle from Mairon’s temple.
The shot was so fast that even Su Ming’an had not noticed soone aiming.
Su Ming’an looked to the left, soone was holding a gun.
Through the shattered car glass, Su Ming’an saw the person—expressionless, colorless, like a dead person who had crawled out of the grave, their platinum hair tinged with a luminescent magenta, like bright blood in the snow.
Su Ming’an could not determine the gender of this white-haired individual; their facial features were incredibly soft.
This person resembled the Number Six man from the nightti eting, only with slightly more tender and soft features.
The white-haired person shifted the gun barrel, aiming it at Su Ming’an. In those indifferent eyes, as clear as a transparent mirror, anything could be reflected.
"Are you Lin Guang?" Su Ming’an said.
He realized, this was the person Mairon feared trendously—the most powerful person in this world, who could control the life and death of all.
...Lin Guang’s strength was exceedingly terrifying. If Lin Guang’s earlier target had been him, he might not have been able to dodge it.
He wouldn’t... have run into the faction boss at the start of the ga again, right?
Lin Guang remained silent, rely tilting their head slightly as if observing him—observing the characteristics of Su Ming’an’s black hair and gray eyes.
Su Ming’an noticed that inside this mansion, so people stood foolishly as if they had lost their souls; so sat on swings with their heads down, unmoving; others were confined in golden cages, their eyes lifeless, like birds kept within a pen.
They all had one thing in common—they all had black hair and gray eyes.
Their expressions were vacant, like exquisitely dressed, elegant dolls.
Like a collection... of ’ornants’ carefully preserved, stripped of personality, shattered in the soul, leaving behind only the purity of their outward appearance.
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