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A girl who couldn't have been more than ten looked up from the soil as the convoy passed. Her face was smeared with dirt, but her eyes—large and hollow—held no light. She just stared, then went back to digging.
This was the Z-Age. Childhood had been replaced by survival.
As the convoy rolled through, the villagers shouted,
"Brother Tiger! Brother Tiger's back!"
A group of militants with rifles jogged over, laughing and slapping Tiger on the back as he stepped down from his Hummer.
"Brother Tiger, you brought back a haul this time!"
"Ha! You're a legend, boss!"
Tiger grinned, waving them off like a proud general. Then he turned toward Ethan.
"Brother Ethan, tell your people to come down. You're safe here."
To show sincerity, Tiger walked to Ethan's side himself, the picture of goodwill. But Ethan wasn't fooled. His eyes flicked across the compound—the guard towers, the dug trenches, the number of rifles. This place was fortified, but it was also a den of wolves wearing smiles.
Ethan nodded once.
"Everyone, come down."
The truck doors groaned open, and one by one, the women descended, their movements a sultry dance despite the nervous edge in their eyes.
Nina emerged first, her silken dark hair cascading like a midnight waterfall, catching the dusty light. Her aristocratic features—sharp cheekbones and smoldering eyes—promised a cold, untouchable allure that made pulses race.
Grace followed, her tall, athletic frame moving with predatory confidence, her toned curves straining against her tight attire, a stark contrast to the world's decay.
Luna stepped down next, her soft blond locks shimmering like spun gold, each step dripping with the grace of a fallen princess, her lithe figure teasing through the mud and ruin.
Julia came after, young and bright-eyed, her innocent beauty a provocative spark, her trembling hands clutching her pack as her delicate frame seemed to beckon the darkness.
Then came the others—Sydney, her mature, curvaceous body swaying with every step, her full hips and generous breasts barely contained; Olivia, soft and elegant, her willowy form gliding with a sensual poise; Clara, her doe-like gaze and serene beauty radiating a quiet, irresistible charm; Nikki, sharp-eyed and wary, her lithe figure taut with a dangerous allure. While Sarah was like a young milf with a motherly aura.
Nina, Bella, Maria, Grace, Sydney, Maya, Olivia, Luna, Ava, Nikki, Ada, Julia, Maeve, Maria, Bella, Daisy, Jessica, Nina, Leah, Sarah, and Clara All were one of a kind beauties with their own specialties.
Each woman, though dusted with grime, exuded a raw, primal beauty that felt alien in this broken world—a beauty that set the hungry eyes of desperate men ablaze with primal desire.
"Well, damn…" one militant growled, licking his cracked lips, his eyes raking over them. "Look at those ripe peaches, boys!"
"Sweet little thing, ain't she?" another leered, his gaze locked on Julia's trembling form. "Bet she's as soft as she looks."
"Clean and fresh, just how I like 'em," a third rasped, his voice thick with lust.
"Those curves could make a dead man rise!"
The laughter erupted, coarse and guttural. "Check out those legs—built to wrap around ya!" one shouted, eyeing Grace's toned thighs.
"That one's got an ass that won't quit!" another barked, staring at Sydney's swaying hips.
"Brother Tiger's served up a whole damn buffet!"
"Look at those nice tits, boys! Bet they bounce real nice!" a militant cackled, his eyes devouring Nina's chest.
The men's gazes turned filthy, their crude hunger thickening the air like a storm about to break. Their catcalls grew bolder, dripping with raw, animalistic want.
"Gonna have some fun with these pretties tonight!" one roared, his voice a guttural promise.The women drew closer, a tight knot of defiance and fear.
Luna's jaw clenched, her fingers teasing the hilt of the knife strapped to her thigh, its blade a silent threat. Grace shifted protectively in front of Julia and Olivia, her muscular frame a shield, her eyes burning with challenge. Sarah, the mother, pulled her daughter close, her trembling body radiating both fear and fierce resolve, her curves pressed tight against the girl as if to guard her from the leering storm.
A thin, rat-faced militant approached Tiger, bowing slightly as he spoke in a sycophantic tone.
"Brother Tiger, you're amazing! You brought back supplies and a whole flock of beauties! We're all gonna have a good night tonight, huh?"
Another thin and tall militant also came over smiling, his eyes constantly looking back and forth at Nina, Olivia, Sydney and Sarah's breast, as they had the biggest boobs in the group, as if wanting to tear off their clothes: "Yes! Brother Tiger! So much good stuff, you should leave some for us to enjoy too!"
Another tall, lanky man joined in, his eyes shamelessly roaming over the women.
"Yeah, Tiger! Share some with your brothers, eh? It's been too damn long since we had this kind of luxury."
Ethan's fingers twitched slightly. The killing intent that flashed in his eyes was faint—but it was there, sharp as a blade hidden in silk.
Inside, his thoughts were cold and precise.
'Animals. They've forgotten what it means to be human. But not yet… not here. Not now.'
He exhaled slowly, his face expressionless.
Tiger's frown deepened. He turned sharply, his voice cutting through the laughter like a whip.
"Enough! All of you—shut your damn mouths!"
The laughter stopped immediately. His men lowered their heads, muttering under their breath.
Ethan watched him closely. For a moment, he wondered—was that anger genuine? Or just for show?
In the apocalypse, even kindness had to be weighed like gold—tested, verified, distrusted.
Tiger's voice was calm but carried the weight of authority as he said, "This is Ethan—my little brother. I just made friends with him. These women belong to him, not you. Get back to work, all of you! Puppy, go gather the men and unload one of the trucks. Black Face, make the arrangements—I want a proper meal with my new little brother Ethan tonight."
The militants groaned in disappointment. The crude laughter and whispers that had filled the air moments ago faded like smoke in the wind. Some muttered curses under their breath, but one look from Tiger was enough to send them scattering. One by one, they dispersed, their rifles slung across their shoulders, boots thudding against the cracked earth as they went back to their duties.
Only then did the women exhale—subtle, shaky breaths of relief. For a moment, they were safe. Their faces, though still pale from fear, shimmered faintly in the dull afternoon light. Even in this grim world, their beauty seemed otherworldly: Grace's commanding posture, Luna's soft elegance, Sydney's mature curves, and Julia's innocent youth—all different, yet each a reminder of what humanity was losing piece by piece in this era of ruin.
Tiger turned back to Ethan with a broad, almost friendly smile. "Little brother, come with me."
Ethan gave a small nod and followed. His mind, however, was never still. Every gesture, every tone of Tiger's voice, he weighed carefully. 'Too friendly, too fast,' he thought. 'He's not just showing hospitality—he's probing.'
They walked toward a large two-story villa built from scavenged bricks and metal sheets. It stood at the center of the village like a fortress among ruins. Guards stood at the entrance, armed with Type 81 rifles—old, reliable Shianse-made guns known for their power and durability. Each man's finger lingered near the trigger, not tense, but ready. No one in this age survived long by being careless.
Inside, the villa smelled faintly of cooked meat and oil. The walls were patched with old wallpaper, the kind once found in suburban homes, now stained by smoke and grime. Despite the roughness, there was warmth here—a flicker of civilization in the cold void of the apocalypse.
Tiger gestured for Ethan to sit. They took opposite sides of a worn wooden table. Luke and William stood behind Ethan, ever alert.
Tiger's sharp gaze flicked toward them. "Ethan, these two little brothers?"
Ethan nodded. "This is Luke," he said evenly, "and this is William."
Tiger's smile softened, though his eyes stayed calculating. "Hello," he greeted, his tone friendly enough to sound sincere.
Luke inclined his head with calm confidence. "Hello."
William's voice trembled slightly. "Brother Tiger… hello."
Ethan could tell William was nervous—his fingers twitched near his belt. Not surprising. Tiger's closest men filled the room, their cold eyes measuring every heartbeat. In a world where betrayal was as common as breathing, trust was a rare currency.
Tiger chuckled and gestured to the three men beside him. "Ethan, meet my brothers—Zhang Xiang, Lei Chen, and Chen Yan."
Zhang Xiang was a wall of muscle and beard, a scar slashing across his left cheek. His thick arms bore veins like cables, and his presence was suffocating. Lei Chen stood even taller, towering at two meters, his skin tanned and his frame built like a boulder. His knuckles were calloused, his posture disciplined. Chen Yan, in contrast, wore glasses—a rare sight these days—his hair slicked back, his manner refined, though his calm eyes hid something sharp.
Ethan nodded politely. "Hello."
Zhang Xiang met Ethan's gaze with open challenge. His lips curled into a sneer. "So, you're Ethan," he said, voice rough like gravel. "Brother Tiger says you're talented. Why don't we find out just how much?"
Tiger's brows knit together in disapproval. "Zhang Xiang," he said sharply, "Ethan is my guest. Don't make trouble."
But Zhang Xiang didn't back down. He turned his gaze to Tiger and said with stubborn pride, "Brother Tiger, I know you want him on our side—and I respect that. But if he wants to earn our trust, he should prove it. Let me test him."
Luke stepped forward before Ethan could answer, his voice like ice. "You're not worthy to fight Ethan. If you need to fight someone, fight me."
Zhang Xiang threw his head back and laughed, the sound deep and derisive. "You? You look like you'd break from a slap. The world really has turned upside down if kids like you think they can challenge me."
Ethan's lips quirked slightly. "Luke," he said calmly, "show mercy. Don't kill him."
The casualness of his tone only stoked Zhang Xiang's anger. His nostrils flared. "Mercy? You're talking as if I'm already dead!"
Luke, unfazed, simply nodded and gestured toward the open area in the middle of the room. "You first," he said coldly. "Don't worry—I'll make sure you can still eat afterward."