A few bursts of electrical static crackled over the walkie-talkie, then fell silent.
The next second, Yang Yong saw it.
An almost transparent fishing line slipped silently out of thin air.
It had not shot in from any direction. It had simply appeared out of nowhere.
With unnerving precision, the line lightly looped around Ye Zefeng and tugged.
"Swish..."
There was no sound, yet you could almost "hear" the crisp efficiency of the motion.
Ye Zefeng vanished from the truck bed in an instant.
Yang Yong had not even had time to blink.
He stared at the truck bed, now one person short, and a complicated feeling welled up inside him.
Envy.
Naked envy.
This ability was so much like an angler's ultimate dream. Retrieving things from afar, disregarding distance-it could hardly have been more useful.
If I had that ability...
He shook his head, driving those unrealistic thoughts from his mind.
They would reach the Survival Convoy's camp soon.
Yang Yong stopped cultivating with his eyes closed and instead looked out the window at the bizarre scenery racing past.
His brow furrowed slightly as an enormous question snagged his thoughts.
Cao Xianming.
Just what price did you pay to get that Steam Train, ranked fifteenth among Curios and known as "Never-Ending," to act?
That price must have been steep, right?
Meanwhile, on a small, weed-covered rise several hundred meters outside the Survival Convoy's camp.
Two pairs of eyes peered greedily through binoculars like hungry wolves, fixed on the abandoned factory buildings below.
"Boss, this convoy doesn't look strong!"
A shrill female voice spoke with irrepressible excitement. "Should we hit them?"
"Look at all their old, weak, sick, and disabled people. They can barely walk straight!"
The woman she called "Boss" did not respond. She merely adjusted her binoculars'