Chen Ye’s revelation that he had Awakened a second Sequence drew immediate gasps from Captain Chu Che and Nana.

Yet, neither of them looked envious. If anything, their expressions were heavy.

The long-legged girl stared at him, her gaze complicated. “Dual Sequences? Sure, it sounds good on paper. But power comes with a price. Two Sequences mean double the backlash. Can you… handle that?”

Her pink hair caught the morning light, shimmering like a halo, but her tone was dead serious.

Snap.

Chen Ye lit a Huazi cigarette, inhaled deeply, and exhaled a long, slow plume of smoke. “I can’t worry about that right now. Future problems are for the future me.”

Nana smirked, shaking her head. She gave him a thumbs-up. “Fair enough. Either way, Awakening twice is a good thing. In this hellhole, surviving one more day is pure profit.”

“Agreed,” Captain Chu added with a gentle, if practiced, smile.

“Yezi,” Iron Lion rumbled, his voice like rocks grinding together. “What’s the second Sequence?”

Chen Ye didn’t answer with words. He blew a smoke ring.

As the group watched, the ring didn’t dissipate. It twisted, thickened, and dropped to the sand, taking the form of a small, grey kitten. The smoke-cat mewled silently and wove between their ankles, rubbing against Iron Lion’s boots. It was eerily lifelike.

The group stared, dumbfounded.

“[Smoke Apostle],” Chen Ye said, crushing the cigarette butt under his heel. He saw no point in hiding the name.

“Smoke Apostle?” Captain Chu rubbed his chin, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “That belongs to the Supernatural Pathway.”

“Supernatural Pathway?” Chen Ye frowned. That term wasn’t in his System logs.

“There are hundreds of Sequences,” Chu Che explained, slipping into lecture mode. “We categorize them into broad Pathways. For instance, Iron Lion’s [Titan Sequence] and Nana’s [Sword Immortal Sequence] fall under the Combat Pathway. Since you manipulate elements—smoke—you’re in the Supernatural Pathway. Some call it the Esper Pathway.”

Chen Ye glanced at the Captain. For a man who led a ragtag convoy, Chu Che knew a suspicious amount about the mechanics of this new world.

Iron Lion was a former bus driver. Nana was a high school genius whose acceptance letter to a top university had arrived the same day the world ended. But Chu Che? He never spoke about his past.

After a few more questions about his abilities, the group broke up to prep their vehicles.

“Captain,” Nana whined, stretching her limbs. “Can we please find water today? I feel like I’m coated in a layer of grime. I’m disgusting!”

“Water?” Chu Che sighed theatrically. “I’d love to, but that’s up to fate.”

“Bullshit!” Nana snapped. “Aren’t you a [Pathfinder Sequence]? What kind of pathfinder can’t find a damn puddle?”

“…”

While Nana roasted the Captain, Chen Ye turned back to his tricycle.

He knew Nana was right about the cost. Every Sequence had side effects. His left eye was already proof of that. Carrying two burdens meant he would likely mutate faster, or worse.

Ahhh!

A shrill scream shattered the morning calm.

Nana vanished from her spot, moving with the speed of a striking viper. Chen Ye lit another cigarette and followed the sound, his hand drifting to the machete at his hip.

He arrived to find a woman pointing a trembling finger at a small, ragged tent.

“What’s the situation?” Nana asked, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword.

“Dead… he’s dead!” the woman shrieked.

Nana frowned and used her scabbard to flip open the tent flap.

Inside lay a man, curled into a tight fetal ball under a thin, threadbare blanket. His skin was blue-grey, covered in frost.

Chen Ye didn’t need a medical degree to know the cause. Hypothermia.

The desert temperature swings were brutal. Last night had been freezing, and this man didn’t have enough warm clothes. He was one of the few independent survivors who owned a motorcycle—a survivor from Longevity Village.

He had refused to join the bus crew last night. Joining the bus meant safety and warmth, but it also meant handing over all your loot to Old Li for “redistribution.”

It was the classic dilemma: Freedom or Security.

Without supplies, you were a slave. With supplies, you were a king—until you froze to death.

Just look at the lecherous old man in the Elderly Mobility Scooter. Everyone else was miserable, but that old geezer was living his best life because he hoarded his own goods.

Captain Chu didn’t force anyone. He let them choose.

And this man had chosen death.

“I told him!” the woman wailed, collapsing into the sand. “I told him to go to the bus! He wouldn’t listen! That stubborn bastard! That son of a bitch…”

She cursed him through her tears, grief and anger mixing into a raw, ugly sound.

The surrounding survivors looked on with grim expressions. They weren’t just looking at a corpse; they were looking at a possible future.

Chen Ye felt a chill that had nothing to do with the wind. If he hadn’t Awakened, if he hadn’t looted the warehouse, if he hadn’t upgraded his canopy… that frozen lump of meat could have been him.

Death was cheap in the apocalypse.

A few acquaintances dragged the body out and buried it in a shallow sand pit. As the woman wept over the mound, Chen Ye’s gaze drifted past her… to the motorcycle.

The man was dead. The bike remained.

Chen Ye’s eyes narrowed. That engine.

His tricycle was currently suffering from “small horse, big cart” syndrome. It was too heavy for its single engine, especially after the steel frame upgrade. He needed more power.

The rainy night proved it—he couldn’t outrun the cars. Hell, he couldn’t even outrun the two-wheelers.

I need that bike, Chen Ye thought, calculating the Slaughter Points he could save by using it as a raw material.

But looking at the weeping widow, he decided to wait. Making an offer now would be tactless. He’d approach her tonight.

09:00 AM.

The convoy rolled out. Destination: Unknown.

Compared to previous days, the mood was somber. The death hung over them like a cloud.

Leading the pack was Captain Chu’s modified off-road vehicle. On the driver’s door, in dripping red paint, were two large, crooked characters: FAIRNESS.

It looked like a child’s vandalism, but the message was clear. Chu Che had wanted to paint Nana’s car too, but she had threatened him with violence, so he had settled for tagging Iron Lion’s bus and the Zhou sisters’ SUV instead.

By the time they hit the main road, the heat was already rising.

Chen Ye gripped the handlebars, grateful for the shade of his new steel canopy.

Iron Lion had invited him to ride in the bus earlier. It would have been comfortable—air-conditioned, cushioned seats. But Chen Ye had declined.

Joining the bus meant exposing his secrets. He couldn’t upgrade items or use the System with fifty pairs of eyes watching him. And handing over his supplies? Over his dead body.

But independence had a physical cost.

The tricycle was heavy. The steel roll cage added at least 50 lbs (22 kg), plus the weight of the water and food he’d received yesterday. The aerodynamic drag from the boxy canopy didn’t help.

Even with the throttle pinned to the stop, the engine screamed in protest.

Put-put-put-put-WHIIINE!

He was falling behind.

The convoy stretched out ahead of him. There were no cyclists or walkers left—they had all died or squeezed into vehicles. Chen Ye was now the absolute tail-end Charlie.

Even the perverted old man in the Elderly Mobility Scooter zipped past him, buzzing like an angry hornet.

“Damn it,” Chen Ye muttered.

The desert highway was passable, though drifts of sand forced them to weave. Every time the tricycle hit a washboard section, the chassis shuddered violently. It felt loose, wobbly, like the bolts were about to rattle free.

He had cheaped out on the frame reinforcement to save points. Now, the structural integrity was failing under the increased load.

I need an upgrade. Immediately.

Just as he was plotting how to secure the dead man’s motorcycle engine, a blaring horn snapped him to attention.

HONK! HONK!

It was Captain Chu’s signal.

“Attention all units! Situation ahead! Eyes up!”

Chen Ye squinted through the dusty windshield.

In the distance, a blockade of vehicles was parked across the highway, completely obstructing the path.

Another convoy?

He knew other survivors existed, but this was the first time they had run into an organized fleet.