The convoy rumbled to life.

Leading the charge was Captain Chu’s modified off-road vehicle, the word “FAIRNESS” painted in bold red strokes across its flank.

Right behind him was the pink-haired, long-legged alcoholic.

Through his window, Chen Ye saw her slumped in the passenger seat, already wasted. He genuinely wondered how she managed to maintain a drunken stupor for twenty hours a day in a resource-scarce apocalypse.

Catching his gaze, the girl lazily raised her beer can in a silent toast.

Chen Ye raised his cigarette in return. A moment of mutual appreciation between a smoker and a drinker.

The Doomsday Pickup shuddered as Chen Ye shifted gears. The massive, post-apocalyptic beast groaned and rolled forward, tailing the girl’s vehicle like a predatory steel monster.

Sure, the truck had flaws. It was rough, unfinished, and lacked amenities.

But to Chen Ye, it was a palace.

He caught the envious stares of the survivors in the other vehicles. Their eyes practically screamed their desire to drag him out of the cab and take his place. In this hell, a reliable vehicle was a fantasy most wouldn’t dare dream of.

Through the windshield, the endless desert stretched to the horizon.

Aside from their convoy, there was nothing. No other cars, no buildings, no life.

Before the end, this was impossible. Even in the deepest wilderness, you could always find traces of humanity—a plastic bag, a tire track, a distant pylon.

Now, after only a few months, the world had become alien.

Chen Ye had a nagging feeling that this apocalypse wasn’t simple. The weather was too extreme—lethal heat by day, bone-cracking cold by night. The Anomalies were biologically impossible.

Some survivors theorized that Earth was merging with another dimension. Others claimed it was a spiritual Qi resurgence. Theories were cheap; survival was expensive.

The heat was oppressive.

Chen Ye rolled down both windows. The scorching wind blasted through the cabin, drying the sweat on his temples instantly. He adjusted his black sunglasses, shielding his eyes from the blinding glare.

Before, these were cheap gas station shades. Now, they were a luxury item people begged to trade for. He had refused every offer.

His feet were clad in worn flip-flops. His shoes had melted off his feet during the escape from the massive car pileup weeks ago.

Worst of all was the smell. He hadn’t bathed properly in months. He reeked, and he knew it.

He spat his cigarette butt out the window, steering with one hand while grabbing a plastic water bottle from the passenger seat. He drained the last few drops, savoring the moisture, then carefully stowed the empty bottle under the seat.

He had dozens of them. In the wasteland, a container was almost as valuable as the water itself.

As the hours dragged on, the initial thrill of driving his new truck faded, replaced by boredom.

If only I had a radio, he mused. Some music would be nice. Or AC. AC would be heaven.

The suspension was also brutal. Every pebble on the road sent a jolt straight up his spine. The “shock absorption” he had designed was practically nonexistent.

Human greed, he thought with a wry smile. First, I just wanted a car. Now that I have one, I want comfort.

Suddenly, the convoy slowed.

Chen Ye leaned forward. Two blackened, skeletal frames of burned-out cars sat on the roadside ahead.

Captain Chu’s vehicle had stopped. A young man hopped out—Xiao Wang, Uncle Abao’s assistant. He sprinted toward the wreckage.

Chen Ye watched as the pink-haired girl’s vehicle stopped too. Her companion, “Little Yu,” was driving. Little Yu was a tiny girl, barely 1.5 meters tall with black-rimmed glasses, who looked even younger than the alcoholic.

Chen Ye had seen the tiny girl dragging her drunk “cousin” into the car more than once. When she drove, she was so short it looked like the car was driving itself.

Xiao Wang reached the wreckage. Seeing the opportunity, Chen Ye parked and jumped out.

Scavenging was the first rule of survival. You never passed up a loot drop.

Other survivors poured out of their vehicles behind him, all thinking the same thing: maybe there’s something left.

“Brother Ye!” Xiao Wang greeted him as he approached.

Chen Ye nodded, scanning the burned frames.

Disappointment hit instantly. The cars had burned thoroughly. Inside each frame were two carbonized corpses, twisted in agony. There was nothing salvageable.

Chen Ye turned back to his truck, empty-handed. The convoy’s mood dipped back into its usual lethargy.

They moved on. No one knew where they would sleep. No one knew when this march would end.

Suddenly, the loudspeaker crackled.

“Attention! Attention! Route change! We are leaving the paved road!”

“Repeat! Leaving the paved road!”

Panic rippled through the convoy. The Zhou sisters and the drivers of the other small sedans went pale.

Off-roading in deep sand was a death sentence for a standard sedan.

The convoy ground to a halt. Survivors flocked to Uncle Abao, demanding answers.

Chen Ye lit a cigarette and walked straight to Captain Chu’s vehicle. Nana and Iron Lion joined him.

Captain Chu looked grim.

“No choice,” Chu said, his voice low. “There’s something ahead. If we stay on the road, none of us will survive.”

“That bad?” Chen Ye asked, flicking ash from his cigarette.

“Very bad. We have four Sequence Beyonders, but if we run into a high-level Anomaly, we’ll be wiped out.”

“Fine,” Nana slurred, swaying unsteadily. “Off-road it is. My car can handle it.”

She stumbled, grabbing Chen Ye’s shoulder for support, giggling foolishly. “Right, Yezi?”

Chen Ye rolled his eyes.

Unbeknownst to him, from the window of the yellow school bus, a pair of charming eyes watched the contact with a flash of jealousy.

“Alright,” Chu announced. “Everyone, lower your tire pressure. We’re hitting the dunes.”

Chen Ye returned to his pickup and bled air from his massive tires to increase traction.

The convoy turned off the highway and into the sand.

Nerves were high, but they adapted. The Zhou sisters’ sedan got stuck almost immediately, but Nana’s off-roader winched them out.

Night fell.

Still, Captain Chu didn’t give the order to stop.

Tension thickened in the air.

Chen Ye chain-smoked. The cabin was filled with a dense gray fog. This wasn’t just a habit; it was his radar. Through the smoke, he could sense the surroundings, expanding his awareness into the dark.

The Heavy Machete’s upgrade countdown was ticking away.

Finally, with the blood moon high in the sky, the radio crackled.

“Stop. We rest here.”

Chen Ye checked the time. 9:00 PM.

In thirty minutes, his first true Artifact would be born.