Hell Highway

The sun was bright, and the sky was cloudless.

This should have been a phrase describing beautiful weather, but in this era, for all living things, it meant enduring a hellish trial.

Temperatures exceeding 50°C, accompanied by intense sunlight that would blind anyone who dared to stare at it, continuously roasted the land.

On a national highway stretching for dozens of kilometers, the once-smooth asphalt had long since been baked soft as a sponge by the scorching heat, riddled with pores and melting into primitive bitumen that flowed along the sides of the road.

If you were to walk on it barefoot, within five seconds, your soles would emit a pungent smell of roasted meat.

Beyond that, there were many rusted, derelict vehicles of various types lying askew along the roadside.

The skeletons in the driver's seats were proof of how sudden the catastrophe five years ago had been; they hadn't even had time to hit the brakes before crashing into the guardrails, dying in the wreckage, or, if they had been lucky enough to survive the impact, being gnawed into white bones by nearby residents who had turned into living corpses.

At this moment, Xia Leng, with several layers of homemade heat-insulating splints strapped to his feet, stepped onto the highway that felt like a swamp radiating scorching heat.

He panted slightly, clutching a canteen containing only a third of his pure water, and pulled his hood down to his eyebrows to shield his eyes from the searing sun that could cause ultraviolet damage.

The difficulty of this journey far exceeded his expectations; under the drain of the scorching sun, his rations and drinking water had already been reduced to half in order to maintain the stamina required for walking.

Yet, he was still more than halfway to the fortress of the next city.

At this rate, before reaching his first destination, he would likely be baked into a dried corpse on this road due to dehydration.

The remaining rations had to be used to maintain his strength for a hunt; only then could he sustain himself long enough to reach the next city.

Seeing a van with a smashed front end crashed into the guardrail nearby, Xia Leng pulled open the heavily paint-peeled rear door and climbed inside, hoping to temporarily recover his strength and escape the scorching sun.

Although the temperature inside the vehicle was also baked like an oven, breaking the windows to keep the air circulating was still much better than standing directly under the sun.

After climbing inside, Xia Leng saw two skeletons in the driver and passenger seats, slumped over in strange postures.

They must have died instantly after the accident; they could be considered the lucky type.

Once inside, Xia Leng first searched every corner of the vehicle, hoping to find some food to replenish his energy or usable tools, even if it were food that had expired five years ago.

However, as expected, everything of value—even the clothes the two skeletons had once worn—had been scavenged clean by other passing wanderers.

Helpless, Xia Leng had no choice but to rest briefly in the broken van before heading to a nearby forest to see if he could hunt any small prey.

Of course, so-called small prey would be at most as thick and long as an arm.

If he encountered a mutated mammal, he would have no choice but to turn and run, given he was alone.

However, Xia Leng had now acquired a special ability, and perhaps he had the strength to fight one.

Just as he had lain down on the tattered back seat for a short while:

Suddenly!

Several intense roars erupted from the highway behind him!

And as they approached, the roaring became even more ear-piercing!

This caused Xia Leng to immediately lie down in vigilance, quickly closing the door he had left open for ventilation.

After about half a minute, the roaring had rapidly closed in within a hundred meters of the area where Xia Leng was located.

He recognized the sound; it was the noise of motorcycles.

Xia Leng's first reaction was not to seek help from the riders for a lift, but to quickly slide from the seat to the floor, trying his best not to appear in their line of sight.

In the rules of the wasteland, if a group of people encountered a lone individual, everyone knew exactly what the outcome would be.

Through the broken rearview mirror, Xia Leng vaguely saw several burly men wearing sun-shielding helmets and punk-style leather jackets, riding retro motorcycles modified with scrap parts, speeding toward his location.

The thick iron chains hanging on their clothes clattered and clanged against each other amidst the jolting of the motorcycles.

To prevent their tires from being destroyed on the nearly molten asphalt, they had pre-installed metal chains similar to tank treads on the tire surfaces to reduce the contact area with the scorching road.

Xia Leng gripped his dagger with his right hand, while his left hand rested on the trigger of the crossbow he had obtained from the leader, aiming it toward the window.

If they discovered his presence first, Xia Leng would not hesitate to pull the trigger and claim the first blood.

These guys were likely a self-organized wasteland biker gang, much like the road gangs of the old era, living solely by robbing and killing lone wanderers.

Judging by the modified high-power shotguns slung at their waists, they were the type who acted without any restraint.

As the bikers drew closer, Xia Leng's emotions actually grew calmer, and his mind had already calculated several countermeasures to resist them.

Fortunately, the van Xia Leng was in had nothing special about it compared to the other derelict vehicles nearby, so it naturally did not attract the group's attention.

After they drove past his position on their motorcycles, they kicked up a cloud of dust and sped away.

The motorcycles were even equipped with old subwoofers, blasting loud, trashy DJ music along the way...

Perhaps it was because the mutated creatures active during the day couldn't catch up to their motorcycles that they were so brazen.

Watching them gradually move away, Xia Leng let out a slight sigh of relief, though he felt a strange sense of regret in his heart...

After waiting briefly in the car to ensure there wasn't a second wave of bikers, Xia Leng stepped out; he decided to continue his journey.

According to the markings on his wasteland map, about ten kilometers ahead of his current position, there was a gas station from the old era.

It was said that this gas station was also under the jurisdiction of the Komodo Mercenary Company and had been converted into a wasteland bar, where he could also replenish his food and water, though the prices were not cheap.

In Xia Leng's backpack, there was a palm-sized bag filled with crystals, also scavenged from the leader's room.

They were just common crystals obtained from small mutated creatures and weren't worth much, but they would be more than enough to fill his canteen with water.

Ever since Xia Leng had been infected by the Blacklight Virus, he felt that his body required a much higher caloric intake; the amount of food that used to sustain him for two days was now barely enough for a single day.

Furthermore, recalling the experience where the blue crystal from the Baptized One leader had vanished after being absorbed into his palm, he decided to test the crystals in his bag.

Almost the moment he placed one in his palm, it was instantly enveloped by tentacles extending from his skin and vanished in the blink of an eye.

However, this time it did not grant him any additional abilities, perhaps because these crystals were of too low a grade.

After checking his gear once more, Xia Leng set off again on his path of no return.