Apocalyptic Drag Race?

They paused for a moment after passing through Carriage 2.

The river crab on Wan Xing's cutting board had been replaced by the Skull Crusher held in the Butcher's hands; she was currently using a chainsaw to dismantle the bone hammer held by the Skull Crusher.

With a buzzing sound and a spray of fine flesh and blood, the hammer fell off after a short while.

The latter put away the chainsaw, lifted her blood-stained mask, and offered Su Huan a smile.

Yet, no matter how one looked at it, that smile was bone-chilling.

This girl's aesthetic seemed to be heading in an increasingly strange direction.

However, such was the daily life of a Collector, dealing with all sorts of bizarre corpses every day—zombies, plants, Evolutionary Beasts, and perhaps even Evolutionists in the future.

There was no rush to plan their careers just yet; he hadn't even reached the First Order himself.

Su Huan walked toward the corner, where a silver motorcycle sat like a low-slung metal beast.

He hadn't used it once since he finished repairing it.

Since he planned to head out alone today, this H2 was the perfect mode of transport.

The mechanical supercharger mixed with the scream of the four-cylinder engine echoed through the carriage, the idling frame vibrating slightly, yet Su Huan felt as if he had forgotten something.

Had he missed something?

He performed a rapid check, manifesting as a bout of self-talk.

"Items carried: First-Order Pan-Energy Crystal 1, ordinary Pan-Energy Crystals 3, logbook."

"Purpose of trip: Retrieve firearms from the fire truck."

"Personnel: Su Huan."

Was there anything else?

Nothing.

Then it was all good.

He gave Wan Xing a thumbs-up, and she lowered the deck on the side of the sightseeing carriage.

As the hydraulic supports slowly descended, the silver beast roared out.

It bypassed the busy crowd and charged straight toward the gap in the fence.

Huang Hai pushed up his glasses, wiped the greasy sweat from the bridge of his nose, and checked the three-eyed quartz watch on his left wrist; the date had already ticked over to the 21st.

He had been surviving like a rat in this small supermarket for two weeks.

As a man of high-quality education, Huang Hai knew he was beyond saving.

Or rather, counting on others to rescue him was impossible.

He curled up in the triangular space formed by toy shelves and stacks of adult diapers, wrapping himself in the soft items to feel a sense of security.

The array of soda cans at the top of the stairs suddenly rattled.

Huang Hai's heart leaped into his throat.

"It's the wind," the young man curled up behind the checkout counter said in a muffled voice.

He was using a utility knife to whittle a mop handle, wood shavings falling like snow onto the carpet printed with "Welcome."

Besides the two of them, there were two other men in the supermarket—customers who had been shopping with him when the apocalypse trapped them here.

"If we keep staying like this, we're going to kick the bucket sooner or later," Huang Hai licked his cracked lips, tasting the flavor of rust.

He picked up the mineral water at his side and took another sip.

Fortunately, he had hidden in a supermarket, and thanks to the supplies here, he was living quite comfortably for the moment.

But he felt like a dog locked in a cage, not knowing when its master would return, watching the sun rise and set as he gradually slid toward despair.

The young man did not respond.

Over the past ten-plus days, they had said everything there was to say, from their hometowns and professions to life philosophies and the cosmos, even discussing how they would eventually die in exhaustive detail.

By the end, they had run out of things to talk about.

Huang Hai looked toward the gap in the boarded-up window, where a dandelion was swaying.

When he had personally nailed the last wooden plank over it ten days ago, the plant had been nothing but a green sprout in a concrete crack; now, its fluff had been dyed golden by the sunlight.

He wanted to say something more, but the boy suddenly raised his sharpened wooden stick.

"Shh..."

A kind of viscous, wet-sounding footstep drifted up from downstairs.

Huang Hai gripped the fire axe at his side, catching a glimpse of the box of gold-foil chocolates on the shelf trembling slightly, the ribbon knot matte against the dust.

The young man gave him a look, "That zombie is back."

Huang Hai shrank back into the diapers; the second floor had a metal door, after all, and those zombies couldn't possibly open it.

"Bang—"

The violent sound, accompanied by the screech of twisting metal, made Huang Hai jump.

He ripped the diaper off his face, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the iron door.

He saw a massive protrusion forming on its surface.

It looked as if some terrifying, gargantuan creature had slammed into it with immense force.

"Bang!"

The explosive sound caused the white plaster around the door frame to shower down in flakes.

The noise startled the four people inside the supermarket.

The two others fled deeper into the aisles, leaving only Huang Hai and the young man standing by the counter.

Huang Hai scrambled toward the young man; perhaps the noise had agitated the monster outside, as the impacts became more frequent and ferocious.

The flimsy metal door gradually deformed under the brute force, and Huang Hai crouched behind the counter, peering toward the side of the metal door.

He saw a large patch of iron-gray skin exposed behind the bent metal, a massive, giant-like foot kicking against the door.

A zombie's head squeezed through the gap in the warped metal, its scarlet eyes locking directly with Huang Hai's.

"Roar!"

Huang Hai's greasy, sallow face turned deathly pale in an instant.

The next moment, that head was smashed into a pulp by a metal street sign.

The blood-stained characters for Yunan Road remained wedged in the metal door.

Butcher roughly pulled it out, shoved aside the ordinary zombie at his feet, and leaned down to peer through the gap in the door, a bizarre smile plastered on his fat face.

Huang Hai covered his mouth, his body slowly sliding back down behind the counter.

The muscles in his face had long since lost all composure, his features contorted in terror.

"Boom!"

The metal door was kicked off its hinges entirely, knocking over several shelves.

Butcher's massive, two-and-a-half-meter frame squeezed into the small supermarket.

His heavy, labored breathing sounded like a wave of air, hitting the walls and echoing back in layers.

Huang Hai did not know why his damn heart was still beating.

He would have preferred a heart attack to just get it over with quickly.

The only thing providing him any sense of security now was the young man beside him, who looked just as pale.

At least he would have company on the road to the afterlife.

As he let his mind wander, Huang Hai suddenly heard some strange sounds.

It sounded like the roar of a motorcycle engine that used to wake him up in the middle of the night.

That irritable, approaching sound that used to make him curse the rider to crash and die the next second.

"Vroom, vroom, vroom—"

The sound grew closer, and an uncontrollable joy surfaced on Huang Hai's face; that once-hated noise had become so endearing that he felt like hugging the rider and kissing him hard.

Even if the person was the kind of punk-haired delinquent he despised most.

But a question immediately arose.

It was the end of the world, so who on earth was being so arrogant, tearing down the road on a motorcycle?

Su Huan, currently driving recklessly, felt his nose itch.

But the excitement in his eyes was impossible to suppress.

At first, he had been a bit hesitant, but ever since he had shaken off six Night Demons and run two Blood Hounds until they vomited blood, he had started to fall in love with this "fiery steed" between his legs.