On September 12, Year 4 of the Doomsday Wasteland Calendar.
As the climates and seasons across the various regions of the New Continent gradually shifted into autumn, temperatures in the east finally began to drop noticeably, no longer as sweltering as when Su Mo had first arrived.
Early that morning, heavy leaden clouds hung low in the sky, as though the slightest exertion would be enough to grind the already shattered world beneath their feet into powder.
A few spiraling gusts mixed with moisture swept across people's faces, carrying a trace of chilly coldness.
The front-line checkpoint was packed with people, shoulder to shoulder.
Wave after wave of humans answering the call arrived, nearly crushing the already bustling Inner City within the checkpoint.
According to the statistics, the Inner City currently had to receive at least 1.5 million newcomers every day, far exceeding its theoretical reception limit of 250,000.
Fortunately, the volunteers arriving at this time were all filled with passion and had spontaneously formed an orderly system.
Although the Inner City was terribly crowded, order had not completely collapsed.
Volunteers moved through the crowd, guiding the newcomers toward the resettlement areas.
The dormitories built earlier were no longer enough, so people stayed in tents instead.
The temporarily erected tents stood one beside another, forming a white ocean. Inside them, people sorted through their meager belongings and exchanged stories of what they had seen along the way.
On the New Star Legion's Training Ground, the instructors were already shouting themselves hoarse and organizing the recruits into simple military drills.
At a time like this, no one bothered with comprehensive military training or combat ability under adverse conditions.
In short, they only needed to be able to fight a battle when everything was going their way and have the courage to