"I'm Su Rui, ID Su Yuntian. Friends?" Su Rui lowered her raised hands, offering her right for a shake.
Cheng Shuli ignored the gesture and the words, her gaze unyielding. Snowflakes bit her cheeks. Squinting, she sized up the intruder.
Su Rui's leather coat collar held half-melted snow, hinting she'd been out in the storm before. Yet her boots gleamed unnaturally, as if freshly polished.
Cheng Shuli kept a rag in her cart to wipe her soles—melted snow made a mess otherwise.
Cleanliness was non-negotiable.
Her baseball bat stayed steady. Head tilted, she flashed a smirk, her words cutting: "Just passing by, but you parked for a chat?"
Su Rui's smile flickered, then smoothed out.
Dropping her hands, she gave her empty tactical belt a casual pat.
"Novice protection's done. I need a solid teammate." She nodded at the crate of empty bottles behind Cheng Shuli. "Bad draw, huh?"
Cheng Shuli barely heard her. Her eyes were glued to the tactical belt.
That's the stuff.
Her dagger, a constant thorn in her lower back, would finally have a proper sheath.
Mine.
"Yeah, box of junk," she tossed out, kicking the crate over.
Crash—
Empty water bottles spilled, clattering across the snow with sharp pops. A few bounced, clicking softly: clack, clack.
Su Rui's face stiffened. She'd planned to cozy up, lower defenses. Close bonds bred carelessness.
That's when she'd strike.
But this woman was a fortress—chatting idly while giving nothing away. Su Rui had offered her ID to bait Cheng Shuli's, but this stranger had no manners.
Grumbling inwardly, Su Rui scrapped any attack plans.
This woman was the real deal.
Terrifyingly strong.
She wasn't worth crossing.
Catching Cheng Shuli's stare at her belt, Su Rui unbuckled it and tossed it over.
"Welcome gift." She waved. "Name's Su Yuntian. Same sub-district. If I'm in a pinch, back me up."
Cheng Shuli watched her climb into the off-road vehicle. The engine roared, and the car vanished in a snowy blur.
Her keen eyes spotted a splattered blood trail trailing the vehicle. Whose blood? No clue. But Su Rui was no angel.
Frowning, Cheng Shuli glanced at the tire tracks, then the belt in her hand.
What was this?
A tribute?
Heh, someone with sharp instincts today.
Ignoring the scattered bottles, she sauntered back to her cart, belt in tow.
She inspected it thoroughly—just a plain tactical belt—before strapping it on.
Sliding her steel dagger into place, she looked downright lethal.
Drawing and sheathing felt buttery smooth.
First win of the day.
Humming a tune, she slammed the gas and rolled on.
The regional chat was a cesspool of gripes—monsters or trash crates, nothing but whining.
Tough break for the desperate.
[Jade Portrait]: This wasteland's hell without a heater. My water froze solid this morning. Fuel tank, too. Used fresh antifreeze, but it cracked anyway. Traded for hot water, thawed some gas, patched the tank, and kept going.
[Jade Portrait]: Now the car's dead. I'm 20, a college sophomore. I haven't graduated. I don't wanna die. Someone save me!
A young life, snuffed out? Tragic.
But this hellhole brimmed with vibrant souls. If he didn't want to die, did others?
Heaters were rare. Screw-ups had costs.
Cheng Shuli had no sympathy to spare. Shaking her head, she closed the chat.
Snowflakes tapped her windshield, a soft patter. Her cart, twice upgraded, still lacked wipers.
Luckily, her heater melted snow within three meters, keeping her view crystal clear.
Yawning, she scanned the horizon, bored—then froze. A distinct mound jutted from the snowy wastes.
Score. Another crate.
She gunned it, screeching to a halt inches from the crate.
Stepping into the snow, she clocked it wasn't the usual wooden box. This was sturdier, coated in blotchy bronze rust, edged with crude metal rivets.
Bad news.
A bronze crate.
Her last one had birthed a wild boar.
She had zero warm fuzzies for this tier. Face tight, a gut scream blared: Monster inside.
Retreating two steps, she prodded the lid with her bat, ready to dive behind her cart and pull a "Qin King's pillar dance" if things went sideways.
Triggering the Abyss Ring's Insight, Cheng Shuli flowed through her combo: flip lid, dodge, survive.
With [Supreme King] boosting her Agility to 42, she was a blur.
The instant her bat popped the bronze lid, she shot behind her cart like an arrow.
Three seconds. Five. Ten.
Her mental count stuttered. Something was wrong.
No sound hit her ears.
No boar's squeal, no monster's roar—just the wind's mournful howl over the frozen highway.
"Empty?" Cheng Shuli frowned, knuckles white on her bat.
Peeking out, the crate's shadowed innards were bare.
Snow on the lid had slid off, the rest melting under her heater's glow.
It looked… serene.
Did she miss the latch?
Blinking, she wavered. Her swing had to have opened it.
So where was the loot?
As she puzzled, a chill grazed her neck—not snow, but a sticky, rancid breath.
Her blood turned to ice, heart slamming to a halt.