Chapter 21: Trouble In Wasteland

Afternoon, Han Zhen and his group drove to the neighboring Canghai City.

The car was brought by Yi Fan, a second-hand black pickup truck, full of beastly power.

After solving the car issue, he hugged the agreed box of wine and lay in the open-top cargo bed at the back.

Bai Shuang was in charge of driving.

Han Zhen and Xia Youwei were responsible for vigilance.

This division of labor was agreed upon in advance.

After driving out of the outskirts of Deep Blue City, the apocalyptic scene of the insect disaster was revealed to Han Zhen for the first time.

An endless expanse of yellow soil, representing desolate and barren sand dunes, with occasional patches of half-dead greenery growing by the roadside.

On the wide and dilapidated highway, there were no other vehicles besides theirs.

Not only that, but Han Zhen squinted into the distance and could see a few scattered insectoid creatures scattered across the dunes and plains.

This was somewhat different from what he had imagined.

"Are these insects in the suburbs just left to breed and live without being dealt with?" Han Zhen asked.

Bai Shuang glanced in the direction he pointed and responded with an "Oh."

"Those? They're first-rank insectoids, low in threat. Daxia doesn't have the extra energy to completely clean them out."

"Besides, the country isn't a charity."

"Survival of the fittest."

Bai Shuang's words made Han Zhen understand a bit more about this world.

He nodded and fell silent.

The black pickup truck drove along the deserted desert highway, kicking up a cloud of dust.

While driving, Yi Fan, who was lying in the cargo bed, suddenly exclaimed, "Holy shit!" and then jumped up from the bed.

He looked up at the sky not far away.

The originally clear sky suddenly had a pitch-black tornado appear.

The tornado covered the heavens and the earth, blocking most of the sky ahead, looking extremely spectacular.

"What is that?" Xia Youwei instinctively asked.

"A first-rank insectoid, Ash Flies," Han Zhen said.

"A type of insectoid that operates as a group. The larger the group, the more lethal and destructive they become."

"They create black hurricanes by flying rapidly, possessing long-range attack capabilities, but their melee ability is weak, and their defense is very fragile."

Han Zhen had read about this in the notes Lin Jingxuan gave him.

Such a scale of Ash Flies was not often seen; one could say their "luck" was pretty good.

"Charge at them! Hahaha! Charge!" Yi Fan guzzled a mouthful of wine, gripping the edge of the cargo bed with one hand.

He laughed wildly like a crazed pirate captain, shouting loudly.

In the distance, it seemed another convoy appeared near the black tornado.

"They're merchants from Deep Blue City," Bai Shuang said, tightening her grip on the steering wheel.

"Is this also part of the survival-of-the-fittest plan?"

Bai Shuang's mouth twitched slightly. "Pure bad luck on their part. Captain, do we save them or not?"

"Save them. Why not? Turn left, full speed ahead."

Before Han Zhen could answer, Yi Fan in the back already shouted.

He raised the wine bottle high, twirling his wrist a few times, then hurled it hard toward the black tornado's direction.

Yi Fan spread his arms wide in an embrace-like gesture.

"BANG!"

His exaggerated expression froze on his face as Bai Shuang suddenly swerved to avoid a sandy roadblock ahead.

The violent shaking caused Yi Fan's head to slam hard into the edge of the cargo bed, perfectly echoing his earlier shout.

At high speed, the black pickup truck also turned towards the tornado.

"The speed is too fast; there's no time to dodge." Bai Shuang quickly explained.

Han Zhen no longer hesitated, exchanging glances with Xia Youwei. The latter immediately transformed into the form of a Fuxi Guqin. He opened the car door and leaped into the cargo bed with a flip.

———

On the outskirts of Deep Blue City, the Si Ting Merchant Caravan.

Three fully armed advanced off-road vehicles were speeding across the wilderness highway.

Behind them was a black hurricane.

If one looked closely, they would see countless thumb-sized black flies frantically flapping their wings within the hurricane, spiraling around the center.

"Miss, the distance is constantly closing. In five minutes, they'll catch up with us "

"Miss, we can't increase our speed any further."

"Reinforcements haven't arrived. According to the last safety protocol, everyone, prepare to execute the 'Sacrifice' plan."

In the communication channel, the same voice rang from all three off-road vehicles.

Suddenly, the vehicles on the left and right decelerated sharply, turning their heads to face the black hurricane behind them.

"Come back!" On the main vehicle's passenger seat, Shang Si Ting shouted into the intercom. "All of you, come back. It's not the last moment yet; you can't give up."

"Miss... our mission is to protect you..."

"Shang Family Guards, listen to my command. Three, two, one—fire."

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The stopped vehicles rapidly unfolded wings and fired heavy artillery at the black hurricane.

But it was like trying to extinguish a fire with a cup of water.

Even though they could kill Ash Flies, the enormous numbers rendered their efforts negligible.

Shang Si Ting looked despairingly as the two off-road vehicles were about to be consumed by the hurricane.

At that moment, a melodious and fluctuating guqin sound suddenly came from afar.

SHIING!!

The guqin melody grew closer, surreal yet undeniably real, 'Who could be playing guqin in the wilderness?'

Soon, Shang Si Ting saw the answer—a massive blade of energy, spanning several meters, slashed across the horizon.

The next second, the guqin blade entered the hurricane. For a moment, the unstoppable black wind stilled briefly.

Countless Ash Fly corpses fell from the sky like black rain.

The guqin blade dissipated, its aftermath a gust of wind that blew Shang Si Ting's hair, scattering it.

A single term flashed through her mind: Melody Blade.

Just as she thought it was over, another sharp guqin note rang in her ears.

SHIING!

The tempo quickened, growing more urgent. Continuous notes struck both Shang Si Ting's heart and the countless Ash Flies, piling black ash on the ground—their remains.

Finally, she saw the musician behind the melody.

It was a young man, close to her age, leaning casually in the black pickup's cargo bed, face downcast.

Wasteland Pianist.

'How absurdly poetic.'

Yet there he was, a living image in Shang Si Ting's eyes.

At this moment, the surviving Ash Flies turned their attention away from the caravan, redirecting toward the black pickup truck.

Their long-range attacks launched in an instant.

"Be careful!" Shang Si Ting instinctively shouted, her heart tightening in worry.

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