The convoy traveled for several more hours, stopping at the edge of a relatively flat stretch of the Gobi Desert only when the moon was high overhead.
For a Migration Convoy of over four thousand people, even setting up camp was a major undertaking.
Clusters of torches were lit, swaying in the night wind and illuminating the entire camp as brightly as day.
Some people pitched tents, others lit fires and cooked, and others changed the wounded's dressings. Children's cries mingled with adults' scolding, noisy yet full of the vitality of those who had survived disaster.
Luo Fan's RV was parked at the very front of the convoy, its door open and its interior brightly lit.
Then he invited everyone into his RV for a meal and a chat.
Jiang Shengnan was the first to arrive.
Dressed in a practical combat uniform, she strode into the RV and sat by the window.
Zhao Chunfeng came next, still holding the few copper coins he always carried. He adjusted the Monitoring Glasses on his nose and sat opposite Jiang Shengnan.
Niu Dagang followed him. Leaving his shield propped against the vehicle outside the door, he stooped to squeeze inside and plopped down in the farthest corner. His burly frame made even the spacious RV feel somewhat cramped.
An Xiaoran had already been in the RV, so she came out of her room.
She walked over to Luo Fan without speaking and quietly sat in the chair beside him, her small hand settling on the hem of his clothes out of habit.
Han Shanzhong, Lin Feifei, Mo Yuling, and the others followed...
Luo Fan sat at the head of the small table and swept his gaze over those present. Without any unnecessary pleasantries, he raised his hand and placed four crystal cores on