The final distribution was the largest in volume, yet it concluded with the most speed.

Following the agreed 20 percent split, the supplies piled in front of Chen Ye formed a small mountain.

The envy in the eyes of the surrounding survivors was palpable, a heavy, suffocating thing. If not for the terrifying presence of the Sequence Beyonders, the mob would have torn Chen Ye apart and stripped the pile clean by now.

Chen Ye rested his hand casually on the hilt of his Heavy Machete, his fingers brushing the trigger of his Hand Crossbow.

Beside him, Nana snorted softly. She didn’t draw her weapon. She simply rested her palm on the pommel of her longsword and swept her gaze across the crowd.

The murmurs died instantly.

As a Sword Immortal Sequence 2 at the Opening Edge Realm, she didn’t need to shout. A single cold glare was enough to sever the courage of an ordinary man.

“Chen Ye,” she whispered, leaning in slightly. “Park your rig next to mine later.”

Chen Ye nodded. Safety in numbers.

In the old world, this pile of junk—cheap clothes, dried noodles, cigarettes—would have been ignored by beggars. Now, it was a king’s ransom, a golden hoard in a world of dust.

He pulled his motorized tricycle over and cleared a space in the rusty cargo bed. He began loading his share, stacking boxes and bags with practiced efficiency. The previously empty metal bed was soon overflowing.

He checked the system interface.

[Upgrade in Progress: Vehicle Canopy] [Time Remaining: 28 Minutes]

Nearby, Old Li led two porters from the bus to collect Iron Lion’s share. They lashed the massive haul to the roof of the bus with thick ropes. Chu Che and Nana did the same, securing their loot to the racks of their modified off-roaders.

The sun began to dip below the horizon. The dying light washed over the dunes, turning the sand into a rolling ocean of gold. It was a breathtaking sight—the kind that would have garnered thousands of likes on social media back when electricity still flowed.

Now, phones were just expensive bricks.

On the opposite side of the sky, the Blood Moon began its ascent. The golden sands turned a bruised, sickly red. The beauty vanished, replaced by the eerie, oppressive dread of the wasteland night.

The temperature plummeted. Chen Ye pulled a jacket from his stash and slipped it on, layering a pair of thick trousers over his jeans.

Around the camp, fires were lit. The smell of cooking food drifted through the cold air—a rare, sweet scent that masked the stench of decay. The camp grew noisy as survivors gathered for their evening meal.

Chen Ye, however, kept busy. He needed to mask the visual effects of the system upgrade.

He grabbed several wooden sticks and propped them up around the corners of his cargo bed. Then, taking the pile of scavenged women’s jeans and shirts he had “fed” to the upgrade requirements, he draped them over the frame, creating a crude, chaotic tent.

To an observer, it looked like he was building a pathetic shelter against the wind. In reality, he was preparing the materials for the forge.

He parked strategically, angling the trike so the shadows hid his work from the main campfire.

Fifteen minutes passed. The camp settled into a rhythm of eating and low conversation. No one was watching the guy with the tricycle.

[Time Remaining: 00:00:10] […3… 2… 1…] [Upgrade Complete]

Chen Ye’s vision blurred for a split second.

Inside the makeshift tent, reality distorted. The wooden sticks, the piles of denim jeans, the cotton T-shirts—they didn’t just fall; they dissolved. The matter broke down into particles of light and reshaped itself in an instant.

When his vision cleared, the drafty, open-air cargo bed was gone.

In its place was a semi-enclosed cabin.

Chen Ye suppressed a grin and crawled out to inspect the changes under the faint light of the Blood Moon.

The new canopy was… unique.

It was a patchwork quilt of scavenged denim and cotton, stitched together by the system into a durable, weather-resistant cover. But the source materials were undeniably visible. You could see the pockets of a pair of jeans here, the collar of a shirt there.

Chen Ye froze. Right in the center of the left panel, stitched prominently into the fabric, was a lace bra cup.

It was an aesthetic crime. A total disgrace to decency.

But functionally? It was perfect. The roof extended forward, creating a sunshade over the driver’s seat. The back was enclosed, turning the cargo bed into a secure, private compartment.

It looked exactly like the delivery tricycles that used to buzz through the cities before the end—the kind loaded with Taobao packages and grumpy couriers.

Before the apocalypse, it was a low-end workhorse. Tonight, in Chen Ye’s eyes, it was the Batmobile.

It was a mobile base. A private room.

With the enclosed back, he could now use his Mechanic Sequence abilities (or rather, his System) to upgrade items without fearing prying eyes. He could sleep inside, sheltered from the biting wind and the red moonlight.

He ran a hand over the patchwork canvas. Step one complete. Next stop: Mobile Fortress.

“Whoa… Chen Ye, is this your new ride?”

The voice came from directly behind him. Close. Too close.

Chen Ye’s blood froze.

When did she get here? What did she see? Did she see the clothes dissolve? Does she know?

Adrenaline dumped into his system. His mind raced through a tactical calculus in a nanosecond.

Option A: Explain. Option B: Kill her. Option C: Flee.

He turned around stiffly, his body tense as a coiled spring.

The first thing he saw was legs. Long, pale, impossibly shapely legs that seemed to go on for days—legs that could distract a monk from his prayers.

Nana stood there, casually holding a beer, her other hand resting near her sword hilt. Her expression was shadowed.

“Nana…” Chen Ye’s voice was dry, raspy. “You looking for me?”

“Pfft! Hahahaha!”

Nana bent over, clutching her stomach, her laughter ringing out like a bell.

“Look at you!” she wheezed. “You look like a scared cat!”

She straightened up, wiping a tear from her eye. “This guy… usually you act so deep and calculating, like some old schemer. But you panic so easily? It’s kind of cute.”

Chen Ye didn’t relax. His hand hovered inches from his machete.

“Burp.” Nana hiccuped, waving her beer. “Chen Ye, what’s with that face? You think because I saw your little trick, I’m going to silence you? Murder you in the dark?”

“Hahaha… oh, Yezi, you’re hilarious.”

She took a sip of beer, shaking her head. “It’s the apocalypse, idiot. Humanity is practically extinct. We’re Sequence Beyonders. You think you’re the only one with secrets? Captain Chu has them. Iron Lion has them. Hell, I have them.”

Chen Ye remained silent, his heart rate slowly dropping.

“Relax,” she said, her tone sobering for a brief moment. “Your secret is safe. Whatever mechanic voodoo you did to this bike… it’s nothing compared to what’s out there.”

She walked around the tricycle, tapping the patchwork canopy with her fingernails.

“Tsk, tsk. Impressive. It was a rusty bike this morning, and now it’s… this. The Mechanic Sequence is more versatile than I gave it credit for.”

She framed it as a class ability. She rationalized it for him.

Chen Ye let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Yeah. Something like that.”

“If anyone is going to survive this hell, Chen Ye, it’s going to be you,” she murmured, her voice dropping to a surprisingly serious register.

But the moment passed instantly. She spun around, her eyes bright and mischievous again, pointing the beer can at him.

“Anyway! Where’s your booze? I’m here to trade my cigarettes. Pay up!”