A quiet but intense debate brewed among the four Sequence Beyonders of the Fairness Team regarding how to handle Mo Huairen’s group.

Opinions were divided.

Chen Ye advocated for a preemptive strike. In the wasteland, he believed in the idiom: Strike first to gain the upper hand.

With their heavy hitter, Iron Lion, currently incapacitated, the team was at its weakest. Waiting for the other shoe to drop was a gamble they couldn’t afford. Hitting the Camel Team before they realized the Fairness Team’s vulnerability was the safest tactical move.

And if they couldn’t win? Chen Ye was fully prepared to cut his losses and run.

Captain Chu Che took the opposite stance. He pushed for peaceful contact and fair trade.

“We avoid conflict whenever possible,” Chu Che argued. “First, we are down a fighter. Second, stabbing them in the back violates the very principles of this team.”

To Chu Che, attacking without provocation was a betrayal of fairness.

In the eyes of a pragmatist like Chen Ye, the Captain was naive. Dangerously so. In the apocalypse, such idealism usually led to a shallow grave.

Yet, it was precisely this idealism that made the Fairness Team a sanctuary compared to the hellscape of the Camel Team. It was why the survivors trusted him. Given the choice, no one wanted to sleep next to a treacherous, scheming leader. Everyone wanted a “good person” watching their back.

Although Chen Ye disagreed with Chu Che’s methods, he didn’t push it. He respected the chain of command—mostly. He would simply stay ready to draw his blade the moment things went south.

Then there was Sun Qianqian.

The pink-haired girl’s stance hovered somewhere in the middle, though she leaned instinctively toward Chen Ye’s ruthlessness. Whether that was due to their shared combat mindset or their… recent entanglement… was unclear.

Simply put, the girl was itching for a fight.

As for Iron Lion? The big guy scratched his head and stayed neutral, happy to follow orders.

“Shh,” Chu Che signaled, adjusting the dial on the [Eavesdropping Radio].

Static hissed, and then a voice cut through.

“No, don’t say that. Young Chu is a good man. I’ve seen his survivors; they’re well-fed and treated like human beings. That tells you everything.”

It was Old Man Mo’s voice.

“The Captain is right,” another voice agreed. “Hopefully, the trade tomorrow goes smoothly.”

“Don’t worry about it! Everyone, get some rest. We have a big day tomorrow.”

“Yawn…”

Click.

Chu Che turned off the radio and looked at his team with a vindicated expression.

Chen Ye shrugged. “Fine. You’re the Captain. Your call.”

Hearing the old man praise them actually made Chen Ye feel a twinge of doubt. Am I really the villain here? When he first saw the Camel Team, his immediate reflex had been dog-eat-dog—rob them blind before they could do the same.

But apparently, not everyone in the wasteland was a monster. Even the slaver, Old Man Mo, wasn’t planning a double-cross.

“Yezi isn’t wrong, though,” Chu Che added, offering an olive branch. “Caution is never a mistake. Alright, everyone, get some sleep. We rise early.”

The group dispersed, filing out of the command tent.

Sun Qianqian trailed behind Chen Ye. She nudged his arm with her elbow, lowering her voice. “Do you really think they’ll try to rob us?”

“Otherwise?” Chen Ye whispered back, lighting a cigarette. “If you were them, with twice the numbers and firepower… what would you do?”

The girl paused, her eyes narrowing in thought. “I get it.”

She turned abruptly and marched toward a distant sand dune.

“Hey,” Chen Ye called out. “Where are you going this late?”

“Sword practice!”

She flicked her high ponytail, leaving Chen Ye with a view of her retreating silhouette under the moonlight.

Chen Ye mentally gave her a thumbs-up. The delinquent high school alcoholic had truly transformed into a dedicated warrior.

Further out, shadows moved within the Camel Team’s camp.

Chen Ye squinted. It was the young man who controlled the wolves. He was patrolling the perimeter, his pack trotting silently at his heels.

Under the crimson glow of the blood moon, Chen Ye’s right eye burned. His enhanced vision pierced the darkness.

He watched the beast tamer place a hand on the forehead of a restless camel. The man muttered something—guttural, strange syllables that drifted on the wind. Immediately, the agitated animal calmed down, bowing its head in submission.

So his Sequence really is animal-related, Chen Ye noted.

He took a final drag of his cigarette and headed back to his vehicle.

Since the sandstorm had ripped the canopy off, Chen Ye was back to sleeping under the open sky.

Lying in the driver’s seat of the Doomsday Pickup, he looked up. If you ignored the blood-red moon, the starlit sky was breathtaking. Without industrial pollution, the air was crisp, the galaxy a river of silver dust.

He checked his System interface.

[Deduction Remaining: 13 Hours]

Once the cultivation technique was ready, his progression speed would skyrocket. Reaching Sequence 2 was only a matter of time.

As for tomorrow…

Chen Ye’s hand drifted to the handle of the Heavy Machete at his waist.

Captain Chu might want a peaceful trade, but in this world, wanting something doesn’t make it happen.

This is the apocalypse.

Inside the command tent, Chu Che sat alone in the dark.

Chen Ye’s words replayed in his mind.

Strike first.

Chu Che was a man of principle, but he wasn’t stupid. Chen Ye was right. Logically, tactically, they should attack.

But as a leader, he couldn’t sanction murder based on suspicion alone. He held himself to a standard that belonged to the old world. In a few short months, humanity had lost 99% of its population. Every survivor was precious.

One less body on the pile, he told himself.

That was why he hadn’t executed Xu Jiaojiao, despite knowing she was a cancer in the camp.

Still… paranoia gnawed at him.

Chu Che turned the [Eavesdropping Radio] back on. He decided to keep vigil tonight.

Minutes ticked by. Silence.

Then, a voice crackled through the speaker.

“You… I remember you. You’re from Little Chu’s team, aren’t you? What are you doing in my tent?”

It was Mo Huairen.

Chu Che froze.

Then… silence.

Dead silence.

Chu Che’s face turned ashen.

The sentence was short, but the implication was terrifying.

Someone from my team. Someone Old Man Mo recognized. Sneaking into the enemy commander’s tent in the middle of the night.

Who?

Sun Qianqian? Iron Lion? Or… Chen Ye?

Chu Che pressed the radio to his ear, desperate for the reply. He waited for an explanation, a threat, anything.

But the radio remained silent.

Even the ambient sound of breathing seemed to vanish.

No.

A cold sweat broke out on Chu Che’s back.

The traitor knows.

They knew about the [Eavesdropping Radio]. They knew Chu Che was listening. That was the only explanation for the total silence. There were plenty of ways to communicate without speaking—writing, hand signals…

Chu Che’s heart sank.

Who is it?

Dawn broke, painting the desert in hues of orange and blood. The camp woke to the noise of activity.

The survivors from the Camel Team were already hard at work. They cleared a large patch of desert between the two convoys, creating a neutral trading ground.

Then, they began unloading the camels.

Chen Ye had to admit, the Camel Team was loaded.

Every beast was burdened with bulging sacks of Supplies. Mo Huairen hadn’t lied; they must have recently raided a town.

Chen Ye walked through the display, his eyes scanning the goods.

He spotted a small desktop electric fan. To most, it was junk. To him? Gold. His Doomsday Pickup had solar charging now, but no AC. A fan would make the scorching desert days bearable.

He saw stacks of cassette tapes. In the age of streaming, these were relics, but now they were the only music left. A tape deck would make the long drives far less lonely.

There were crates of canned food, gallons of water, tools…

But then, something massive caught his eye.

A skeleton.

It was colossal, resembling an ox but easily three times the size of any natural bovine. The bones were ivory white, gleaming with a faint, unnatural luster under the morning sun.

Is this… Artifact material?

A piece of bone this size?

Even if it was low-grade, the sheer mass made it valuable.

An idea sparked in Chen Ye’s mind. He had been looking for a way to upgrade his vehicle. If he could integrate high-quality Artifact materials into the chassis… could he turn the Doomsday Pickup itself into an Artifact?

The giant ox skeleton seemed like the perfect frame.

He activated his System’s appraisal function.

[Appraisal Cost: 70 Slaughter Points]

Chen Ye winced. Seventy? That was expensive. But the cost usually reflected the quality.