In the wasteland, the old world’s economy was dead and buried. A million dollars couldn’t buy a single cigarette.

In this new order, food was the gold standard. Other Supplies were distant silver and bronze.

Everything had a price in calories. Even human lives.

Take the limited-edition, red-and-white collaboration sneakers Chen Ye had just acquired. Before the collapse, they would have cost three thousand yuan. Today, Chen Ye bought them for a single tub of Pickled Vegetable Noodles.

Even rare Artifact materials could be bought, provided you were willing to part with food.

But in the desert, one thing was more precious than food: water.

Theoretically, a human can survive three weeks without eating. Without water, you’re dead in seventy-two hours. In the scorching heat of the Yan Province, you’d be lucky to last half that long.

Water wasn’t just a resource; it was liquid life.

Chu Che’s negotiation with Old Man Mo proved this grim reality. The “Human-Faced Scorpion Carapace” and its “Face Skin”—materials that could create powerful defensive gear—were traded for a mere ten cases of mineral water.

Twelve 550ml bottles per case. That was it.

Before the apocalypse, these materials would have been priceless, potentially worth billions to research institutes. Each piece contained unimaginably miraculous power. But right now? They were worth exactly one hundred and twenty plastic bottles of water.

It wasn’t a trade for goods. It was a trade for continued existence.

And even that price was only secured because Old Man Mo didn’t want to push a fellow Sequence Beyonder like Chu Che into a corner.

Artifact materials could indeed be crafted into life-saving Artifacts to fight Anomalies, but you had to survive long enough to craft them.

The convoy was dry. Their remaining water wouldn’t last the day. If they didn’t trade, the entire team would die of thirst long before those scorpion shells ever saw a workbench.

Survival was the only law.

Luxuries like tobacco and alcohol held value only for specific addicts. If you had cigarettes, you could get almost anything from Chen Ye. For Old Man Mo, however, the treasure was alcohol.

In this hellscape, people needed something to numb the pain.

Yet, when Chen Ye proposed trading two bottles of white liquor for the “Bone of the Man-Eating Two-Headed Cow,” the old man bucked.

“You brat! I knew you looked slippery before, but now I see it. You’ve been eyeing my ox bone from the start!” Mo Huairen looked at Chen Ye with an expression that said, I see right through you.

“Well?” Chen Ye asked, unbothered. “Deal or no deal?”

“Keep dreaming. Unless you bring me fifty bags of rice, that bone stays with me.”

Chen Ye shrugged. He knew two bottles of liquor was a lowball offer, a shot in the dark to test the waters. To get that bone, he’d need more alcohol or something far more valuable.

Liquor was nice, but you didn’t die without it. Without water, you were dust.

“Little Chu, I have another deal. Interested?”

Old Man Mo turned to Chu Che, a lecherous grin spreading across his weathered face.

A bad feeling coiled in Chu Che’s gut, but he stopped to listen.

Ignoring them for a moment, Chen Ye turned and looked into the distance.

On a nearby sand dune, an ordinary-looking woman sat silently, wrapping bandages around her hands with cold precision. As if sensing his gaze, her eyes flicked up for a fraction of a second—less than 0.1 seconds—before returning to her task.

Not far from her stood the youth in the cloak.

The boy caught Chen Ye staring. He let out a cold, sneering heh heh and slowly drew a thumb across his throat.

Chen Ye paused. When they first met, the kid had made that same gesture at Iron Lion, infuriating the big man. Now, Chen Ye realized the truth. The kid hadn’t been threatening Iron Lion back then.

He had been threatening him.

Interesting.

Chen Ye didn’t get angry. Instead, he flashed a smile as warm and harmless as a spring breeze in May.

The youth scowled, clearly annoyed that his provocation failed to elicit rage.

Chen Ye turned away. If a little punk’s hand gestures could unsettle him, he wouldn’t be Chen Ye.

Of course, that didn’t mean he was forgiving. Chen Ye was a petty man. He filed the insult away, planning to settle the score with interest later.

He scanned the rest of the camel train. The “slaves” were packing up Supplies, securing loads for departure. The sun was fully up now, the desert heat beginning its daily assault.

Mo Huairen and Chu Che were still talking.

“Little Che, that woman in your convoy… the one named Xu. She’s quite fine. Why don’t you trade her to me? I’ll give you five… no, ten bottles of water!”

Mo Huairen licked his lips, his eyes darting to Xu Lina, who looked haggard but still possessed a curvaceous allure. Then his gaze drifted to the younger Zhou Xiaoxiao.

“And that little girl, Zhou. How about it? Toss her in, and I’ll give you two full cases of water. That’s a fair price, isn’t it? Water is more expensive than gold out here!”

These two were the jewels of the convoy, the subjects of countless survivors’ lonely fantasies.

Feeling the weight of a predatory gaze, the women looked over. When they met Mo Huairen’s staring eyes, they shuddered. It was the feeling of being sized up by a hungry beast.

The convoy members, who had only been with Chu Che for less than a day, looked at the wretched slaves of the camel train and then at their own captain. They realized how lucky they were. Simultaneously, terror for Mo Huairen and his fellow Sequence Beyonders spiked.

Anyone with a brain knew what the old man was proposing.

Zhou Xiaoxiao, standing close enough to hear, went pale. She trembled, her legs threatening to give out.

Xu Lina shrank back, instinctively grabbing Chen Ye’s arm for protection, her body shaking.

Chu Che’s face shifted. “Captain Mo, please. Do not mention this again.”

“Tsk. Little Chu, you’re too naive. It’s the apocalypse. What’s the point of playing the saint?” Mo Huairen sneered. “Tell you what. I’ll add a bonus condition. Last night, someone slipped into my tent. Want to guess what she told me?”

Chu Che stiffened.

He knew someone had visited the slaver’s tent. His Eavesdropping Radio had picked up the movement, but without sound, he couldn’t identify the person. He had tossed and turned all night, agonizing over the betrayal.

His expression cycled through shock, anger, and anxiety. Finally, he gritted his teeth.

“Captain Mo. Xu Lina and Zhou Xiaoxiao are human beings. They… are not goods! They cannot be traded!”

The last words were delivered with iron resolve.

Zhou Xiaoxiao slumped against a vehicle, looking as if she had just survived a walk through hell. Xu Lina wasn’t much better, her grip on Chen Ye’s arm tightening until her knuckles turned white.

Mo Huairen stared at the young captain, then threw his head back and laughed. “Hahaha… Captain Chu. You really are a piece of work. I underestimated you.”

His address shifted from the patronizing “Little Chu” to “Captain Chu.” There was a sliver of genuine respect in his voice now.

“Fine. I don’t need your women. I have enough of my own to enjoy,” Mo waved his hand dismissively. “But I’ll give you a freebie. The one who came to my tent last night was a woman named Xu Jiaojiao. She sold you out completely. Who is a Sequence Beyonder, what abilities you have… she told me everything.”

Mo Huairen adopted the tone of a teacher lecturing a slow student. “Captain Chu, sometimes, being too kind gets you killed. Remember where we are.”

Chu Che’s face darkened, a storm brewing in his eyes.

If Chen Ye were the captain, Xu Jiaojiao would have been corpse-food ten times over. But Chu Che believed that with humanity on the brink of extinction, order and morality had to be preserved. He didn’t want unchecked power to rule his convoy.

That was why he had spared her. She had been behaving herself lately.

Who would have thought she would be the one to stick a knife in their backs?

For the first time, genuine killing intent flashed in Chu Che’s eyes. Yet, he forced a smile. “Thank you for the information, Captain Mo.”

“Hahaha… Don’t mention it. Captain to Captain. I hate traitors too.”

Mo Huairen cast one last greedy glance at Xu Lina and Zhou Xiaoxiao, licking his chops with regret. Top-tier beauties like that were rare commodities in the wasteland.

Chen Ye, meanwhile, withdrew his own greedy gaze from the Supplies on the camels. The water, the food, the livestock…

Hearing the negotiation conclude, Chen Ye chuckled.

“Captain Mo, our Captain won’t trade with you, but I will!”

He stepped forward, dragging the trembling Xu Lina with him.

“Xu Lina is my woman. As long as you give me that ox bone, I’ll hand her over to you. How about it?”

Chen Ye walked toward Mo Huairen, a casual smile on his face.

On his back, the Heavy Machete began to tremble, vibrating with a low, menacing hum.

Nearby, the ordinary woman whispered something to the cloaked youth. Sun Qianqian, who was directing men to load the truck, silently gripped the hilt of her sword.

When Xu Lina heard Chen Ye’s words, the blood drained from her face. She looked at him in horror, her knees buckling.

How could he?

He was… he was simply a demon!