Pursuit and Escape

Qu Jianlei's communication skills were far inferior to theirs, but after thinking it over, he felt that such a small benefit was nothing.

So he nodded. "Fine. The two of you count as half a share. Tell me whatever you can."

The news was actually not complicated. Cripple had been approached by the Law Enforcement Team from Hong Si Settlement.

No one knew exactly what the Law Enforcement Team had asked, but clearly, his answers had not satisfied them.

Cripple had been able to run that business because he had some connections in the Settlement. The Law Enforcement Team cursed him out and seemed inclined to let him go.

But another group directly shot Cripple dead.

In the end, the man mysteriously added, "You know? They were people from the Hong Character Main Settlement..."

He had stopped the woman from talking, yet he himself became increasingly animated. "Those big shots can kill people like us as easily as stepping on an ant."

"So that's how it is," Qu Jianlei muttered softly, saying nothing more.

He had originally wanted to ask about the Garbage Dump, but now that he had heard even Cripple had been killed, it was better to wait before asking.

He had spent most of his time after transmigrating over there, but was there anyone there he felt grateful toward or attached to? No. Not a single one.

He only wanted to know what kind of reaction Mr. Sai would have after learning that he had disappeared.

Judging from Old Cripple's fate, he could already guess what the Main Settlement's attitude would be if they discovered he was still alive.

So he really was in no hurry to ask about those people's fate.

Of course, it was impossible not to ask at all. He still had to analyze just how dangerous his situation was based on what had happened to them.

After taking some Purple Flower Lichen, Qu Jianlei traded Nutrient Solution for small items such as metal wire, replenishing his trap supplies.

Then he turned and walked out of the camp, heading toward where he had hidden his motorcycle.

Seeing him leave, the man who had sold the information earlier rolled his eyes and walked toward a large semi-underground building.

This was the camp's entertainment spot. It sold not only tobacco and alcohol, but also some semi-contraband goods.

Morrison's Blue Beauty had been bought here last time.

The room was thick with smoke. Four people were drinking and chatting, while three other customers sat scattered about.

The man walked over to the drinking group and spoke quietly to a gaunt man. "Dong Ge, I have some information."

Dong Ge glanced sideways at him, took a sip of cloudy liquor, and casually spat out one word. "Talk."

The man grinned, revealing blackened yellow teeth. "Dong Ge, well... you've always been generous."

The gaunt man gave him another sidelong glance. "I didn't hear that clearly. Say it again?"

The man shuddered in fright and could only speak honestly. "Just now, a stranger was asking about Cripple."

"What's there to ask about Cripple?" a Tattooed Arm Man said dismissively. "He's already dead."

"Hei Ge, dead people can still be useful," the man explained carefully. "What if he's someone the Main Settlement is looking for?"

"Damn it, you dare set your sights on any kind of money?" the Tattooed Arm Man glared at him.

"I wouldn't even dare get involved in the affairs of people like that... I'm just wondering, who gave you the guts?"

The gaunt Dong Ge said nothing. He stared blankly at the wine cup in his hand, his gaze vacant.

"What if?" the man replied with a flattering smile. "If we can get connected to some big shot from the Main Settlement, it'd be worth it even if we don't make money."

"Big shot..." The Tattooed Arm Man snorted disdainfully, then looked at the gaunt man. "Dong Ge?"

Dong Ge put down his wine cup and said calmly, "Go on."

The man recounted what had happened, focusing especially on the weapons Qu Jianlei carried.

Qu Jianlei had come in to gather information, so he had only brought a Gauss Automatic Rifle and a short dagger.

That loadout showed he had some strength, but... the bastard who had knocked people out from behind before had carried the same equipment.

Besides, he had fallen so low that he even collected Purple Flower Lichen. How strong could he possibly be? Of course, if he really had come to gather information, that might be a disguise. But was that really the case?

"Alright," the gaunt man said, rising directly to his feet. "Brothers, let's take a trip."

He looked muddleheaded, but how could someone who became the leader of a gang lack ability?

Still as a maiden, swift as a hare in motion, decisive in killing—this was his true face.

But Flower Arm hesitated instead. "Dong Ge... do you really think we can get connected to those big shots?"

"It doesn't matter if we can't. We have to try," Jiu Ge replied casually. "If nothing else works, we take his equipment."

"It's just one gun," the Tattooed Arm Man said disdainfully. "Is that really necessary?"

The gaunt man looked at him. "Are you teaching me how to do things?"

"Dong Ge, that's not what I meant." The Tattooed Arm Man honestly raised both hands.

Dong Ge was unquestionably the soul of the gang. He could voice objections, but he absolutely could not question him.

So he explained tactfully, "I'm worried he has some tricks up his sleeve. We've lost a lot of people lately... what if it isn't worth it?"

Fighting always required weighing costs against gains. If they got one of their own hurt just to seize a gun, would that be worth it?

"Right, we're short on people," Dong Ge replied casually. "We can bring him in as Cannon Fodder."

So he had three plans in mind. Best case, they could curry favor with a big shot from the Residential Area. If that failed, they could coerce the other party into becoming Cannon Fodder.

If neither worked, they would kill him and take his goods. As for possible losses on their side... as long as the gains outweighed the losses, that was enough. How many people surviving in the Wasteland didn't know how to do the math? If only the third possibility existed, Dong Ge could not be bothered to move. But with the first two possibilities still on the table, it was worth the gamble.

The four men walked out of the room, and the Tattooed Arm Man immediately asked, "Which direction did he go?"

The informer pointed in a direction. The gaunt Dong Ge waved a hand. "Get on the bikes. Both motorcycles are going."

"Both motorcycles?" The Tattooed Arm Man was a little surprised. "It's just one person."

Dong Ge glanced at him and shook his head. "Your vision is too narrow. If he really is the target... even two motorcycles might not be enough."

"True." The Tattooed Arm Man nodded and rushed toward a motorcycle.

"Hei Ge," the informer called out, "well... what about my information fee?"

"Shut up!" Flower Arm barked without looking back. "Wait here. Do you think we'd short you?"

The man immediately did not dare speak again. The two motorcycles roared away, and he resentfully spat on the ground.

The moment Qu Jianlei left the camp, he became highly vigilant. He knew Wasteland Survivors were full of malice toward lone travelers.

Not far from the camp, he crouched low and sprinted all the way, intending to shake off any possible followers.

After running nearly two kilometers, he heard the sound of motorcycles behind him.

Damn it, the bad things always came true! Qu Jianlei calculated that he was still about one kilometer from where he had hidden the motorcycle.

Then a string of numbers flashed through his mind.

He had already run two kilometers. To cover the remaining kilometer, he could not do it in under four minutes.

Though Wasteland motorcycles could all travel off-road, they usually did not exceed forty kilometers per hour.

He had chosen rough terrain that motorcycles struggled with. In this kind of terrain, their speed would only be around thirty kilometers per hour.

That meant the other side would also need roughly four minutes to reach his current position.

By then, Qu Jianlei would barely be able to reach where he had hidden the motorcycle.

However, a distance of one kilometer was already within the Gauss Automatic Rifle's effective killing range.

So these pursuers truly could not be underestimated. The slightest lapse, and he would face an irreversible situation.

And he had no idea how many people were chasing him from behind...

He had no intention of fighting. Everything had to be centered around getting away.

But Qu Jianlei was genuinely starting to feel weak.

The Wastelanders had slightly better physical fitness than Blue Star people and could run a little faster.

But he was carrying quite a lot of supplies. After running continuously for two kilometers, it was very hard for him to increase his speed any further.

After thinking it over, he could only circulate the small amount of inner energy in his body and pour it into his legs.

He had never tried anything like this before, for no other reason than poverty!

But this was a life-or-death moment. He could not worry about that now.

Yet the instant the inner energy entered his legs, he immediately felt the difference: his speed increased significantly! By his rough estimate, it had doubled.

That meant he now needed only about two minutes to reach where he had hidden the motorcycle and supplies.

Two minutes later, those people should still be two kilometers away from him.

The Gauss Automatic Rifle had an effective range of over three kilometers, but whether it could hit accurately was another matter.

To hit him with a Gauss Gun from two kilometers away, they would need to fire continuously and make up for their inaccuracy with bullet density.

So the two minutes he had saved were extremely crucial. He finally felt confident that he could escape alive.

However, one minute later, Qu Jianlei suddenly realized while running that he was hungry again!

It had indeed been some time since his last meal, but this hunger was clearly caused by the consumption of inner energy.

A sense of indignation immediately rose in him. So I have to drink another two Nutrient Solutions just to escape safely?

He had already been somewhat unwilling to flee. He only had no choice because he did not know the enemy's equipment or numbers.

Now that even fleeing would consume his already limited Nutrient Solution, the more he thought about it, the angrier he became.

What exactly did I do to provoke you people? You're making me, already poor as I am, even worse off? Once that resentment arose, he immediately thought of another problem: someone knew he had bought a motorcycle outside the Settlement.

So escaping on the motorcycle would very likely draw the Main Settlement's attention.

He had considered that possibility before, but had deliberately ignored it—nothing was more important than staying alive! Now that he was considering a counterattack, he might as well eliminate this hidden danger.

But how many people were pursuing him, and what equipment did they have?

The next moment, however, he slapped his forehead hard. Why am I thinking so much? I'm faster than a motorcycle!

On the roadless wilderness, motorcycles basically could not exceed forty kilometers per hour. When conditions were bad, they might not even reach thirty.

His current speed was roughly thirty-five or thirty-six kilometers per hour. If endurance was not a factor, he truly had nothing to fear from motorcycles!

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