Chen Ye had barely stowed his four 500ml cans of beer when Nana came knocking.

The girl waved a full carton of Huazi cigarettes in the air, her grin predatory. “Yezi, four beers for a carton of Huazi. How about it? I’m letting you rob me here.”

Chen Ye scoffed. During the loot split, Nana had taken thirty percent of the total haul. She was currently sitting on a mountain of tobacco she didn’t smoke.

“Nana, your abacus is clicking a little too loud,” Chen Ye said, lighting a cigarette and exhaling a cloud of gray smoke. “You want my entire liquid stash for one carton? Keep dreaming.”

He looked at her through the haze of smoke and paused.

Her hair was pink.

Bright, neon pink. She must have used the dye she scavenged.

Wait.

Chen Ye frowned. It was pitch black out here. The only light came from the dying embers of distant campfires and the eerie crimson glow of the Blood Moon. How could he see the specific shade of pink so clearly from ten meters away?

Then the smell hit him. A sharp, chemical tang of ammonia and artificial fruit.

Hair dye.

He sniffed the air. The scent was distinct, cutting through the dry desert dust and the stench of unwashed bodies.

She’s too far away, Chen Ye realized, his heart skipping a beat. I shouldn’t be able to smell her shampoo, let alone see the individual strands of her hair.

Is this it? Am I Awakening?

“Chen Ye, you greedy bastard!” Nana stomped her foot, interrupting his internal diagnosis. “This carton would have cost five hundred yuan before the world ended! Your four beers are worth fifty, tops!”

Chen Ye pushed down his rising excitement and focused on the haggle. “Sister Na, economics have changed. It’s the apocalypse. Alcohol is liquid courage; cigarettes are just air. Supply and demand.”

They went back and forth for another minute before settling.

Final price: Four beers for one carton of Huazi and one carton of Tazi.

Chen Ye walked away with over seven cartons of cigarettes in his inventory. As a chain smoker, this was enough to keep his lungs coated and his nerves steady for months.

Nana stomped off, cursing him under her breath, but clutching the cold cans like they were holy relics.

Chen Ye chuckled, stuffing the cartons into his patchwork tricycle.

He had to hand it to Captain Chu Che. The blind distribution system was genius. It forced the team to trade internally for what they actually wanted. By the time Nana got her beer, her annoyance was directed at Chen Ye’s haggling skills, not the Captain’s leadership.

Once the girl was gone, Chen Ye leaned back against his vehicle and focused.

He pushed his senses outward.

His vision sharpened instantly. The darkness of the desert night peeled away, revealing layers of detail that should have been invisible.

He looked toward the edge of the camp.

There, parked in the shadows, was a small, boxy electric vehicle—an Elderly Mobility Scooter.

Through the tinted plastic windows, Chen Ye saw movement. A voluptuous young woman followed a lecherous-looking old man inside.

Chen Ye recognized her. She had lost her husband in Apricot Blossom Town. Then she had found a boyfriend, who died yesterday in Longevity Village. Now, she was climbing into the “Geezer Glider” with a man old enough to be her grandfather.

In this convoy, survival was a transaction. Those who couldn’t fight or scavenge traded whatever they had left.

The crimson light of the Blood Moon washed over the scene, but to Chen Ye, the world wasn’t just red—it was high-definition.

Then he focused his ears.

The wind whistled over the dunes, but beneath it, he picked up a low, murmuring conversation from inside the scooter. He heard the crinkle of plastic packaging.

“Heh heh… just one bucket,” the old man wheezed. “Beef flavor.”

Chen Ye’s expression darkened. One bucket of instant noodles. That’s the price.

“Damn old ghost,” he muttered.

But more importantly…

My hearing. My sight. This is superhuman.

He queried the interface.

[System Message: Awakening in Progress…] [Note: Heightened sensory perception is a standard physiological side effect of the Awakening process. Please wait.]

It wasn’t done yet.

Chen Ye took a deep breath, trying to dial down the sensory input. The world was too loud, too bright, too smelly.

He decided to focus on something simple: dinner.

He pulled out a block of solid alcohol fuel. He had scored over a hundred of these from Iron Lion’s stash. With his portable gas canisters empty, these chemical bricks were a lifesaver.

He set up a small pot, poured in half a bottle of precious mineral water, and tossed in a handful of dried noodles.

Minutes later, the water boiled. He threw in a sausage.

The smell of savory meat and wheat wafted up, instantly making his stomach roar. In the wasteland, a hot bowl of noodle soup was a Michelin-star meal.

“Um… Mr… Chen?”

A weak, hesitant voice broke his concentration.

Chen Ye looked up. Standing just outside his firelight was Little Fu, the bespectacled university student.

The kid looked terrible. His face was flushed with fever, his lips cracked and pale. Surviving the rainstorm, the scorching sun, and now the freezing night had pushed his body to the breaking point.

“What is it?” Chen Ye asked, stirring his noodles.

“Mr. Chen… could I trade for some solid alcohol?” Little Fu asked, eyeing the blue flame under the pot. “We… we’re freezing.”

“What do you have?” Chen Ye asked flatly. Pity didn’t pay the bills.

Little Fu hesitated, then clenched his jaw. “My bicycle. And my friend’s bicycle. Would that be enough?”

Chen Ye raised an eyebrow. “You’re giving me your transport? How will you keep up?”

“We spoke to Brother Li,” Little Fu explained hurriedly. “There are empty seats on the bus now. They’re letting us ride inside. The bikes… we’d just have to abandon them.”

“I know you’re a Mechanic Sequence,” the student added, his voice trembling with hope. “I thought… maybe the parts would be useful to you?”

Chen Ye considered it.

Two bikes for twenty blocks of solid fuel. Before the apocalypse, that trade would have been a felony scam. Now? It was fair market value.

“Deal,” Chen Ye said.

He counted out twenty white bricks of fuel. Little Fu grabbed them like they were gold bars, bowing profusely before running back to his friend.

Chen Ye watched him go, his mind already deconstructing the bicycles.

Waste utilization.

His “patchwork” canopy was functional, but flimsy. A strong sandstorm would tear the denim apart. He could strip the metal frames from the bikes to reinforce the structure.

And the wheels…

He could weld a trailer hitch. Add a cargo box to the rear. Increase his carrying capacity without sacrificing stability.

Chen Ye slurped down his noodles, drinking every drop of the salty broth. He wiped his mouth, feeling the warmth spread through his chest.

He lay back against the sand, staring up at the sky.

The stars were incredible. Without light pollution, the Milky Way was a slashed scar of diamond dust across the void. The Blood Moon hung there like a watching eye, but even its ominous red glow felt less threatening now.

He lit a post-meal cigarette.

He exhaled.

A perfect, white ring of smoke drifted upward, holding its shape against the wind.

Chen Ye blinked. He blew another one.

Another perfect circle.

And another.

He wasn’t trying. The smoke just… obeyed him. The geometry was mathematically perfect.

How?

He sat up, his heart hammering against his ribs. He remembered Chu Che saying that there were hundreds of Sequences, many with abilities that defied logic.

Is this it?

“System,” he whispered. “Status?”

[System Message: Host Sequence Beyonder Awakening Complete.]