Anomalies could not be killed.

Only Sequence Beyonders possessed the power to contend with them.

Yet, the scene Chen Ye had just witnessed cast a heavy shadow over his heart. That devilish, muscle-bound giant was by no means weak—his strength was terrifying by human standards—but against the White-Dress Scissor Lady, he was utterly helpless. In the face of that monstrosity, a Sequence Beyonder was nothing more than a child flailing against a titan.

Chen Ye drove the pedals of his tricycle with piston-like fury, racing toward the town’s exit.

The sun had completely sunk into the west. The shadows cast by the buildings lining the street had stretched to devour four-fifths of the road. In his peripheral vision, Chen Ye could see them—countless pitch-black, distorted silhouettes standing within the shade, watching his fleeing group with eyes full of malice and resentment.

Every second was a borrowed breath.

Suddenly, a black shadow flashed across the rooftops to his side.

Chen Ye spared a single glance. It was a young girl carrying a sword on her back. Like a legendary blademaster from the old wuxia tales, she tapped her toes lightly against the billboards lining the street, moving against the flow of the retreat like a gust of wind. Her destination was the supermarket, the epicenter of the slaughter.

Another Sequence Beyonder?

How many of these superhumans are hidden within this convoy?

There was no time to ponder the logistics of power. Chen Ye burst through the archway of the town entrance, leaving the oppressive atmosphere of the streets behind him.

But the moment he cleared the gate, a wall of people surged forward.

“Brother! What happened inside?”

“Husband! Are you back? Has anyone seen my husband?”

“Little brother! Where are you?”

A massive crowd had gathered at the entrance, waiting anxiously. The majority were women. There were few elderly or children among them; in the apocalypse, the frail were the first to be culled by the Anomalies. Adult women, possessing stamina only slightly inferior to men, had a higher survival rate.

Several people swarmed Chen Ye, desperate for answers. He ignored them completely, his grip tightening on his Hand Crossbow as he forced his tricycle through the throng.

Ahead, the door of the lead modified off-road vehicle opened. A man stepped out.

His attire was eccentric: a hooded sweatshirt and loose jogger pants, but his feet were bare, calloused against the rough asphalt. His expression was solemn, his eyes cold as glacial ice.

The barefoot man bent down, grabbed a handful of sand from the ground, and tossed it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, savoring the grit like a master chef tasting a new sauce.

Suddenly, his expression contorted. “Go! Leave now! If we don’t move, it will be too late!”

As soon as the command left his lips, the faces of his entourage drained of color. They didn’t ask questions. They scrambled back into their vehicles, stumbling in their haste, as if a great horror were breathing down their necks.

“What about Nana and Iron Lion?” someone shouted from a car window.

“Don’t worry about them, they’ll catch up! Drive! Cut the chatter!”

The sudden, frantic mobilization of the lead vehicles sent a ripple of panic through the other survivors.

Are they… leaving?

Realization dawned. It was already past five in the afternoon. Twilight was imminent. They were too close to the town. Once true darkness fell, the Anomalies inside would spill out, and everyone here would be slaughtered.

“No! You can’t go! My husband isn’t out yet!”

“I beg you, please! My brother is still inside! You can’t abandon us!”

Panic erupted. Some people, driven mad by grief and fear, threw themselves in front of the convoy, trying to physically block the vehicles.

“If you want to die, stay here! Get the hell out of the way!”

The driver of the modified off-road vehicle didn’t hesitate. He slammed the accelerator, the engine roaring as he swerved around—and nearly through—the human blockade, speeding into the distance.

Chen Ye’s face darkened. He prepared to pedal his tricycle to follow the vanguard.

Suddenly, a hand clamped onto his handlebars.

A middle-aged woman, her face twisted with entitlement and fear, blocked his path. “Young man, you can’t leave! You have to take us with you! We’re old people; if you don’t take us, we won’t survive the night!”

Chen Ye frowned, a flash of disgust cutting through his eyes.

He loathed this type of person. Before the apocalypse, these retirees likely had pensions higher than his salary. They were full of vitality then, dominating public squares with their dancing or fighting tooth and nail for discounted eggs at the supermarket. Now, facing danger, they weaponized their age, demanding protection as if it were a divine right.

“Piss off,” Chen Ye growled.

“Young man! Do you have no morals? Do you not know what it means to respect the elderly and care for the—”

Bang!

Chen Ye didn’t let her finish. He lashed out with a vicious kick, sending the presumptuous woman tumbling into a roadside ditch.

Without a backward glance at the cursing figure in the mud, he stomped on the pedals. The Power-Assist System engaged, and the tricycle shot forward, chasing the dust trail of the convoy.

Curses and wails faded behind him.

Perhaps the apocalypse had arrived too swiftly. Like the yoga pants woman, Jiajia, too many people had not yet adapted to the new laws of survival. The old social contracts were void. Only strength and ruthlessness mattered now.

The off-road vehicles ahead, usually content with a slow cruising speed, were now tearing down the road. Survivors without vehicles were instantly left in the dust, their screams swallowed by the distance.

Fortunately, Chen Ye’s tricycle was modified. Even with the cargo bed laden with supplies, the Power-Assist System allowed him to barely maintain the pace.

Just then, a bus swayed violently out of the town entrance.

Chen Ye recognized it—it was one of the convoy’s transports. Previously, it had been packed to the brim with people. Now, glancing through the windows, he saw it was largely empty.

A desperate survivor on the road tried to flag it down. The bus didn’t even brake. It slammed into the man, sending his body flying into the ditch, his fate unknown.

The bus drove as if its tail was on fire, the driver flooring the accelerator to catch the lead vehicles.

Chen Ye stood up on the pedals, cycling furiously.

He overtook several bicycles, hanging grimly onto the tail of the motorcycles ahead. The desire to upgrade this tricycle into an electric vehicle reached a fever pitch in his mind. Perhaps it was time to switch to a four-wheeled car. Even with the hassle of fuel and charging, it would be infinitely better than this physical struggle.

The tricycle sped along the road. Thanks to the infrastructure projects of the past decade, the road surface was decent. The occasional pothole did little to slow Chen Ye down.

He didn’t know exactly what the barefoot man had tasted in the soil to trigger such a frantic flight, but he knew one thing for certain: if he fell behind, he would die tonight.

Only today had he learned that there were actually two Sequence Beyonders in their convoy. Perhaps their presence was the only reason this ragtag group had survived this long.

“Huff… Huff…”

Chen Ye was drenched. Sweat soaked his clothes, making them cling uncomfortably to his skin. His lungs felt like they were filled with burning coals, spasming with every ragged breath.

Without the Power-Assist System, he would have been left behind kilometers ago.

Even so, the convoy ahead was becoming nothing more than faint pinpricks of red taillights in the gathering gloom.

Behind him, heavy, desperate breathing drew closer—a few cyclists were drafting off him, pushing themselves beyond their limits. As for those on foot? Not a single one remained.

Time blurred into a rhythmic cycle of pain and motion.

Finally, Chen Ye saw the lights ahead come to a stop.

A spark of hope ignited in his chest.

Thirty minutes later, Chen Ye finally caught up with the main group.

They had stopped in an open field. People were climbing out of vehicles, hurriedly setting up tents.

Chen Ye’s eyes were drawn to a scene near the center. The two-meter-tall giant—the “Iron Lion”—was being carried onto the grass. His left arm was gone, severed cleanly at the shoulder. Bright red blood stained the green earth beneath him.

Standing beside the maimed giant were the sword-carrying girl and the barefoot man.

Chen Ye’s arrival drew their gazes. They looked back at him, eyes flickering with mild surprise that the first straggler to arrive was a man on a tricycle.

Chen Ye didn’t care about their looks. He parked the tricycle and collapsed onto the ground, gasping for air like a fish out of water. His chest heaved violently. It took a full five minutes for his breathing to stabilize, though his body felt as if it had been disassembled and put back together wrong.

With a groan, he struggled into a sitting position, leaning his back against the tricycle’s tire. He fished a pack of Huazi cigarettes from his pocket, his trembling hands lighting one.

The flame illuminated the sharp contours of his face in the twilight.

“Foo…”

He exhaled a long plume of gray smoke. As the nicotine hit his system, stripping away a layer of his fatigue, Chen Ye finally felt a semblance of relief.

He summoned the system interface.

[Slaughter Points: 1,240]

Thinking back to the wretched desperation of his escape, Chen Ye had only one thought in his mind.

I need to upgrade this tricycle to electric. Immediately.