The people of the Survival Convoy settled into this small room for the time being.
But the words "settled in" weighed on everyone's heart like a waterlogged stone.
The room was small, its wallboards damp. A fishy dampness seeped through the cracks, as though something were breathing slowly behind the boards.
That breathing had no rhythm, no warmth. It was merely a damp pressure against their skin, closing in from every direction.
Zheng Xiaofeng assured them repeatedly, "Chen Gen is my childhood friend. He wouldn't hurt us."
His voice was quiet, yet it sounded as though he were holding down the lid of a pot about to burst open for someone.
Cao Xianming and Yang Yong, however, habitually considered the worst first.
It wasn't that they distrusted Zheng Xiaofeng. In the apocalypse, though, the words "childhood friend" were sometimes more dangerous than a stranger's knife.
When a knife stabbed you, you knew it hurt. When a childhood friend stabbed you, you were still making excuses for him.
Food?
The word rolled around on Yang Yong's tongue before he swallowed it back down.
Food was the root of survival.
But if this place really had food, where did it come from?
Water?
Soil?
Or those things they couldn't see?
Neither of them really believed Chen Gen's nonsense about being able to "sense the Whale Lord's consciousness, but not communicate with it."
He could sense it, but couldn't communicate...
So could he, or couldn't he?
Was Chen Gen lying, or did even Chen Gen himself not dare tell the whole truth?
After all, Chen Gen was the first Transcendent with two awakened sequences the Survival Convoy had encountered in all its time roaming the apocalypse!
"Dual sequences" sounded like a gift from heaven, but when bestowed on a person, they seemed more