Since Awakening as a Sequence Beyonder, Chen Ye had dedicated every spare moment to honing his abilities.

In this apocalypse, increasing one’s strength was the only reliable insurance policy against death.

Unfortunately, his current training method was brutally inefficient.

It involved chain-smoking, exhaling clouds of vapor, and then forcing that smoke to take the shape of various animals, or simply expanding it into a dense fog around him.

While his control had certainly improved since his initial Awakening, the gains were marginal at best.

During the battle with the Human-Faced Scorpion, he had burned through precious time—and an excessive amount of cigarettes—just to generate enough cover.

If his opponent had been a human Beyonder, or if he hadn’t had teammates to draw fire, he would have been a corpse long before the smoke thickened.

It was a clumsy, grinding process.

Worse, it was expensive.

If not for his passive [Nicotine Tolerance], Chen Ye wouldn’t have dared to train like this at all. His lungs would have given out before his mana pool did.

He had once asked Chu Che about his training regimen.

The Pathfinder Sequence was unique. It involved a constant, high-frequency sensory sweep for Anomalies, twenty-four hours a day.

Chu Che didn’t need to train consciously; his ability was always active, always exercising itself. According to him, as long as a Pathfinder survived, their power would naturally grow over time. It was a slow curve, but a guaranteed one.

Iron Lion, a Titan Sequence Beyonder, had a similarly straightforward path.

“Train the flesh to temper the power,” Iron Lion had said.

Whenever the convoy stopped, the big man could be found wrestling with sand dunes, performing calisthenics that would kill a normal human.

Physical exertion equaled power growth.

Chen Ye, however, was not content with “slow and steady.”

If his smoke manipulation had been just a fraction faster or stronger, the fight with the scorpion wouldn’t have been such a desperate struggle.

Whether it was upgrading his vehicle or enhancing his own body, the goal was the same: survival.

In this great migration across the wasteland, the vehicle and the Beyonder were two halves of a whole. Neither could be neglected.

Is there no better way? he wondered. Like in those old wuxia novels—a breathing technique or internal cultivation method to circulate energy?

Anything had to be better than this brute-force attrition.

“System,” Chen Ye mentally queried. “Is there a method to actively improve Sequence Beyonder abilities? Something like… an energy circulation technique?”

He described the concept of Neigong—internal martial arts cultivation—drawing from the novels he used to read.

The spinning circle icon appeared in his vision.

The System was processing.

Does it actually exist?

Chen Ye felt a spike of adrenaline. His breathing hitched.

If such a manual existed, he would pay any price. This was about personal power—something no one could steal from him.

[Theoretically, both Sequence Beyonder abilities and the ‘Internal Energy’ described by the Host are applications of energy manipulation.]

“So, it’s feasible?”

Chen Ye cut the System off, his voice trembling with suppressed excitement.

[Theory confirmed feasible. Deduction required. Cost: Slaughter Points.]

“Good. How much?”

[Estimated Cost: 10,000 Slaughter Points. Deduction Time: 36 Hours.]

[System Note: A task is currently in progress. Do you wish to interrupt the current task?]

[Warning: Interrupting the current task will NOT refund the consumed Slaughter Points.]

[Please proceed with caution.]

Ten thousand points?

And thirty-six hours of processing time?

He had assumed the System would just hand over the knowledge instantly upon payment.

Chen Ye realized he had discovered a new rule of the System’s operation.

Simple data retrieval was instant. But generating something new—like a custom cultivation method for a specific Sequence—required computational time and massive energy.

The more complex the request, the higher the cost and the longer the wait.

This confirmed that the method would likely be a game-changer.

However, interrupting the current task was out of the question.

He had already sunk 15,000 Slaughter Points into the solar charging upgrade. He wasn’t about to flush that investment down the drain.

Suppressing the burning desire in his chest, Chen Ye forced himself to calm down.

He would just have to wait forty-eight hours for the car upgrade to finish before starting the deduction.

The sky began to lighten.

The blood moon sank below the horizon, and the crimson hue that bathed the dunes slowly faded, replaced by the pale gold of dawn.

Being able to see the sunrise was a luxury.

It brought a fragile sense of hope to the survivors. Even for someone as pragmatic as Chen Ye, seeing the sun chase away the shadows helped dispel the gloom in his mind.

The camp stirred.

Rustling sounds came from the parked vehicles. People emerged, rubbing sleep from their eyes, wandering off to the distance to relieve themselves behind dunes.

Others began setting up portable stoves, the clatter of metal breaking the morning silence.

A petite figure descended from a nearby sand dune.

Her pink hair caught the morning light, glowing like a halo. However, the girl herself looked less like an idol and more like a warrior. She was drenched in sweat, her bangs plastered to her forehead and neck.

She held a long sword in her hand.

Did she go out to practice swordplay this early? Chen Ye mused.

Between the battle last night and an early morning workout, the woman’s stamina was terrifying.

Breakfast was simple white congee.

The team’s cook was a miracle worker; even plain rice porridge smelled rich and appetizing under her care.

Iron Lion was still unconscious.

According to Chu Che, the physical wounds from the Human-Faced Scorpion were healing, but the neurotoxin was the real issue. Any other Sequence 1 Beyonder would have died hours ago. Iron Lion’s Titan physique was the only thing keeping him alive.

When Sun Qianqian sat down across from Chen Ye, the air remained surprisingly clear.

No awkwardness. No blushing. It was as if the ambiguous tension of the previous night had never happened.

Chen Ye was momentarily surprised, but he quickly adjusted. He preferred it this way.

What he didn’t know was that Sun Qianqian was internally sighing with relief.

She had been anxious that Chen Ye would try to “take responsibility.”

To her, there was a generational divide. Chen Ye was a “Zer” (born in the 2000s), while she was a “Tenner” (born in the 2010s).

She was eighteen, born in 2012. He was an “Old Antique” by comparison.

In the movies she watched growing up, people from his generation had dusty, obsolete values. They thought that one moment of intimacy meant a lifetime commitment.

That kind of thinking was heavy. It was a burden.

When she had demanded the Human-Faced Scorpion’s face skin earlier that morning, it had been a test.

She wanted to see if he would bend over backwards to please her.

He had refused. Coldly. Business was business.

Instead of being disappointed, Sun Qianqian felt a weight lift off her shoulders.

She might look like a naive teenager, but her mind was sharp. You didn’t survive to eighteen in this world by being simple.

In the apocalypse, the innocent died first.

Seeing Chen Ye act so nonchalant confirmed he wasn’t one of those sticky, sentimental types.

Still… there was a tiny, prickly thorn in her heart. It wasn’t fatal, but it stung. It was a reminder that this man was different.

She didn’t realize that Chen Ye was far colder than she gave him credit for.

If danger struck and sacrificing her was the only way to ensure his own survival, Chen Ye wouldn’t hesitate.

Even if they had a history.

In fact, Chen Ye hoped she would do the same to him.

In the wasteland, everyone relied on their own strength.

Romantics died first.

Captain Chu Che sat nearby, his eyes darting between the two of them like a radar dish. He was looking for drama, a spark, anything.

Seeing them eat their porridge with zero tension left the Captain utterly confused.

Did I hallucinate the mood last night?

“After you eat, take a look at my car,” Sun Qianqian said, breaking the silence. “Don’t forget.”

“Sure.”

“One pack of cigarettes just to check the engine? Your rates are robbery,” she complained, though without heat.

“If you think it’s expensive, hire someone else,” Chen Ye replied flatly.

“Hmph. Give me my smokes back then! I’ll find a cheaper mechanic!”

“Have some shame. Who asks for a gift back after giving it?”

“Stop, stop, both of you,” Chu Che interjected, waving his spoon. “I paid a deposit too. Yezi, check my car first, then hers. Deal?”

Sun Qianqian tilted her chin up, letting out a proud “Hmph!”

Iron Lion, being unconscious, obviously couldn’t ask for a tune-up.

Besides, Chen Ye’s price was steep. Before the world ended, a pack of Tazi Cigarettes cost maybe twenty bucks. Now? It was a hard currency.

Furthermore, the school bus convoy had its own mechanics. Chen Ye was only the specialist they called when the regular grease monkeys couldn’t fix it.

“By the way,” Chu Che lowered his bowl, his voice dropping an octave. “How are your water reserves?”

The question sucked the levity out of the air.

Chen Ye put down his bowl. “Four or five bottles.”

“I have a bit more,” Sun Qianqian said. “Maybe ten.”

Chu Che frowned, his expression tightening into a grimace.

“Ration it strictly. We’re running low.” He looked out toward the horizon. “We’ll likely encounter other convoys within the next few days.”

“If things go smoothly, we might be able to trade for water.”

“I just hope Iron Lion wakes up before then.”

Other convoys.

Hearing this, Chen Ye’s gaze sharpened.

Even Sun Qianqian’s playful demeanor vanished, her face growing taut.

In the apocalypse, the monsters roaming the sands weren’t the only threat. Sometimes, they weren’t even the worst threat.

Meeting other humans in a lawless wasteland…

That could be far more terrifying than a Human-Faced Scorpion.