Yang Yong halted mid-step.
He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth and clenched his teeth.
Only then did Cao Xianming raise his eyes and glance at him over his glasses.
The faintest curve touched his lips.
Yang Yong drew a deep breath.
His chest swelled, then sank.
"Long Ya told you about the Paradise Service Area, right?"
"She did."
Cao Xianming stood up and brushed the dust off his trouser legs.
The rough grain of the wooden threshold scraped beneath his fingertips.
"How much have you stockpiled?"
Yang Yong casually waved a hand.
A slit opened in the Ten-Thousand-Forged Primordial Furnace's storage space.
Its contents spread out like flowing water within their perception.
Cao Xianming's pupils abruptly contracted.
His entire body froze.
The Data Model in his palm stopped spinning.
"What?"
His voice rose.
His fingers tightened, crushing the glowing patterns into a tangled mess.
His eyes widened behind his glasses, and his lips parted slightly, staying open for a long moment.
"Say that again."
Yang Yong nodded.
Cao Xianming took a deep breath.
He inhaled deeply, his chest expanding and his shoulders rising.
Then he slowly exhaled, and his shoulders sank back down.
His fingers began trembling, and the Data Model's glowing patterns trembled with them, like candlelight in the wind.
"You..."
He went no further.
He spun around and snatched the radio from his belt.
He pressed the button hard, his knuckles turning white.
"Lao Zhang, come over. East end."
Only a moment passed.
Lao Zhang came running.
His steps were hurried, and he stopped before Cao Xianming, panting.
He was a lean middle-aged man with high cheekbones and deep-set eyes, who had kept the convoy's accounts in his head the entire journey and never once miscalculated the whereabouts of a single screw.
"Xianming, what's