Don't Fall Behind! Don't Fall Behind!

Friends who like to read brainless power-fantasy novels, please swipe away immediately. Thank you.

Supernatural combat, team battles, intellectual duels, and heavier character development-this is definitely not some dime-a-dozen brainless power-fantasy.

In this novel, there will definitely be characters and behaviors that you, the esteemed readers, cannot understand. That does not matter; just like in reality, there are "weirdos" we cannot comprehend. The important thing is that we hope you can find a character in this book who makes your breath catch and resonates deeply with you.

The author's writing ability is limited, so please forgive any potentially off-putting elements. Thank you!

The early stages draw a tiny bit of inspiration from the founding master of the genre, but it develops its own style later on. Please rest assured and enjoy the read.

As for the protagonist's name, it naturally has its deep meaning; the author is not lazy enough to not even want to change a name.

As for why there is a donkey, the reason is also very simple: this world is too oppressive and too despairing, and life needs a little seasoning.

Patiently read thirty chapters, and if it is not good, blast it directly.

Fathers, fasten your seatbelts.

Our story,

begins.

"Don't fall behind! Keep up! Everyone keep up!"

"Don't fall behind..."

The harsh blare of a horn played on an endless loop over the national highway.

Beneath the sound was a ragtag fleet of vehicles made up of all sorts of transportation.

Chen Mo numbly pedaled a creaking shared yellow bike.

A month ago, Chen Mo was just an overworked corporate drone.

He was in an office building, eating the pie in the sky his boss painted for him while downing old-pickled-cabbage instant noodles, working overtime late into the night.

Then Tide Cry arrived, bringing countless anomalies and monsters.

Chen Mo hid in the company for half a month, while the broadcasts continuously reported news about the apocalypse.

"Shanghai has fallen. Do not head there! Do not head there!"

"Ordinary people cannot kill anomalies! If you encounter an anomaly, hide quickly! Stay far away!"

Chen Mo despaired; he knew rescue was out of the question.

After eating the last scraps of food left in the company,

hunger drove him to flee the office building.

The only thing he brought with him was the yellow bike parked at the entrance of the company.

Chen Mo felt very hungry right now, hungry enough to eat an entire ox.

He could not remember how long it had been since he last had a full meal,

nor could he remember when the last time he slept peacefully was.

The national highway before him began to warp and sway in his vision.

Chen Mo felt he could collapse at any moment, only to be crushed beneath the stream of people and vehicles behind him.

This was a migrating convoy of about thirty people.

A few battered cars and trucks, alongside a dozen people riding bicycles or traveling on foot.

They moved slowly southward along the desolate highway.

Chen Mo was one of members of the cycling army.

As for why he didn't find a car to drive, the reason was simple.

First, no keys; second, no fuel.

Quite a few people had cars to drive when they first joined the convoy, but as the fuel ran out, they turned into pedestrians.

Thus, Chen Mo's yellow bike had also become a rare and valuable asset.

A rush of wind whipped past his ears.

Before he could dodge, the body of an off-road vehicle swerved violently, its thick bumper grazing the front wheel of his bicycle.

"Clatter!"

Chen Mo and the bike crashed heavily to the ground.

The hard concrete instantly tore through his trousers and palms, sending a burning pain shooting through him.

The off-road vehicle screeched to a halt in front of him.

The window rolled down, and a bald man with a scar on his neck poked his head out.

"Fuck! Are you blind, goddammit? Don't you know how to ride a bike?"

The man was none other than Brother Dao, a gangster within this small convoy.

Chen Mo struggled to push himself up from the ground, but his body was completely drained of strength, and after a few tries, he failed.

He could only raise his head and explain in a raspy voice.

"It's your car..."

"What about my car? My car grazing you is giving you face!"

Brother Dao spat a mouthful of saliva right in front of Chen Mo.

"A scavenger, and you still dare to talk back to me?"

A burst of jeers came from the subordinates inside the car.

The surrounding people also watched this scene with gloating amusement.

"Brother Dao, don't lower yourself to the level of trash like this, hurrying on our way is what matters," the person in the driver's seat advised.

Brother Dao impatiently waved his hand.

"Damn it, seeing slow-moving trash like this just pisses me off!"

"Riding a piece-of-shit bicycle, sooner or later you'll die on the road, and you're even dragging down the speed of the whole convoy."

With that, Brother Dao rolled up the window, and the off-road vehicle spewed a cloud of black smoke as it sped away.

Chen Mo lay flat on the ground, tightly clenching his fists.

In this era, for an ordinary person without power, even dignity was a luxury.

A large hand covered in calluses and grease reached out in front of him.

Chen Mo raised his head.

A man of about forty years old was looking down at him.

The man was likewise pushing a bicycle, with a heavy toolbox strapped to the rear rack.

It was Old Yang, the person who had given him a sip of water when he collapsed by the roadside after escaping the city.

Old Yang was the only mechanic in the convoy.

Just like Chen Mo, he was a marginal person hanging on at the tail end of the convoy relying on a bicycle.

He barely managed to make a living by repairing vehicles for others in exchange for some supplies.

Chen Mo didn't speak, taking Old Yang's hand and using the leverage to pull himself up from the ground.

"Can you still walk?" Old Yang gave him a steadying hand, his voice somewhat rough and gravelly.

Chen Mo picked up his fallen bicycle and checked it.

The front wheel had been dented somewhat warped from the impact, but it could still barely turn.

"Let's go, falling behind means we're truly done for."

Saying that, Old Yang patted his shoulder, straddled his own bicycle, and prepared to continue on their way.

Right at that moment, Old Yang looked back at Chen Mo, suddenly stopped, and fumbled around in his tattered jacket pocket for quite a while.

In the end, he fished out something wrapped in newspaper and stealthily shoved it into Chen Mo's hand.

"Take it, don't you go dying on me, kid, or else I'll have saved you for nothing-pay me back later when you have some!"

With that, he rode far off without ever looking back.

Chen Mo opened his palm, seeing that what was wrapped in the newspaper was a small piece of biscuit.

The surface of the biscuit already had some slight mold spots, and it felt shockingly hard to the touch.

Chen Mo looked at this biscuit, a lump in his throat, his breathing somewhat constrained, unable to squeeze out a single word for a long time.

At this very moment in his eyes, this moldy biscuit was more enticing than any mountain delicacies or sea treasures.

He couldn't spare the time to scrape off the mold spots on the biscuit, cast a vigilant look around, and quickly shoved it into his mouth.

This thing didn't taste very good; it was very hard, bringing a sharp pain to his throat as he swallowed it down.

Chen Mo watched Old Yang's receding back, the other's hunched figure stretched out long by the sunlight, dragging a long shadow across the highway...

I will remember this kindness.

Chen Mo forcefully shook his head, straightened his bicycle, and climbed back onto it.

Now, he had to survive.

Only by surviving would there be a future.