Under the shroud of a moonless night, the headquarters of the Iron Wheel became a hive of clandestine activity. Figures slipped through the gates, their identities masked by the varied garbs of the wasteland: rangers with weathered cloaks, bounty hunters bristling with weaponry, itinerant merchants, wandering poets, and scavengers draped in rags.
These were not random drifters. They were the elite inner circle of the Iron Wheel—the trusted lieutenants of Xiao Ke, Ling Feng, and Ye Yun. They moved with purpose, dissolving into the darkness in small, inconspicuous groups, leaving Anping Town like ghosts.
Among them walked three rangers. Xiao Ke was clad in deep charcoal, Ling Feng in severe black, and Ye Yun in a striking white ensemble. Their faces were obscured by scarves, a common necessity in the Lawless Lands, where the wind carried grit and anonymity was a shield. To any observer, they were merely three companions seeking fortune or trouble. No one would suspect they were the three Myriad Commanders of the Iron Wheel, the most powerful figures in the region.
They made their way to a dusty second-hand dealership in Anping, purchasing a battered, nondescript jeep with cash. Without fanfare, they drove out into the wasteland, the engine rattling as they set a course for the Thousand Needle Stone Forest.
As they put distance between themselves and the town, the traffic on the road began to thicken. The Lawless Lands never truly slept; the highways were arteries of rust and desperation. By the time Xiao Ke's jeep reached the outskirts of the Stone Forest, the three hundred elite soldiers who had left earlier had already regrouped, merging back into a disciplined fighting force.
The Thousand Needle Stone Forest was a geological scar upon the face of the wasteland. It was a labyrinth of verticality, a forest not of trees, but of massive stone pillars thrusting toward the sky like swords aimed at the heavens. From a distance, the silhouette looked like the spine of some prehistoric beast.
Its geography was as treacherous as its terrain. To the west lay the Fallen Zone, the domain of the undead; to the east, the Southern Province; the ocean bordered the south, and Baize City lay to the north. Because of its proximity to the Zombie Nation, the Stone Forest was a porous border. Stragglers often wandered through the rocks, and occasionally, high-level horrors would migrate in search of prey.
Few merchants dared this route. It was the domain of those with nothing to lose—bounty hunters seeking zombie cores, suicidal gold diggers, and herb-gathering teams desperate for a payday. It was the most desolate, unforgiving sector of the Lawless Lands.
As Xiao Ke's convoy pushed deeper into the stone maze, they encountered the inevitable stragglers—low-level zombies drawn by the hum of engines and the sweep of headlights. They threw themselves at the vehicles with mindless hunger, only to be cut down efficiently, their skulls cracked open and brain cores harvested before the bodies hit the ground.
Deep within the forest, Xiao Ke signaled the halt.
"Kill the engines," he ordered, his voice cutting through the dry air. "Hide the vehicles and take positions. Ling Feng, you're on point. Take a scout team. The moment the Double Eagle caravan appears, I want to know."
"Understood, Big Brother." Ling Feng didn't waste a second, vanishing into the shadows with his squad.
The remaining warriors, commanded by their centurions, melted into the terrain. They became part of the rock, waiting with the patience of predators.
Xiao Ke and Ye Yun climbed a high, flat-topped boulder that offered a panoramic view of the winding road below. The wind here was colder, carrying the scent of dry stone and distant rot. Xiao Ke unslung his waterskin, tilting his head back to take long, satisfying gulps. He wiped his mouth and casually extended his skin to his companion.
"Third Brother, you thirsty?"
Ye Yun took it instinctively. It was only as the weight of the water settled in her hands that she hesitated. This was Xiao Ke's personal flask. He had just drunk from it; his lips had touched the rim. If she drank now, it would be an indirect kiss—an intimate act that sent a jolt of panic through her chest.
She froze. If she refused, it might look like an insult, as if she were disgusted by him. But if she drank... the implications made her cheeks burn beneath her mask. She was a woman disguised as a man, a secret Xiao Ke was oblivious to. If he ever discovered her true identity, would he look back on this moment with realization?
Xiao Ke, unaware of the turmoil he had caused, was scanning the horizon, his brow furrowed in thought. "By my calculations," he murmured, "the Qiao family's Double Eagle convoy should be here within the hour, maybe two. Let's hope tonight goes smoothly. I have a bad feeling."
Seeing that his attention was fixed on the mission, Ye Yun exhaled a silent breath. She quickly took a small, delicate sip, the water cool against her parched throat, and capped the flask before her blush could deepen.
Xiao Ke's unease was palpable. It wasn't just the mission. It was the lingering threat of the assassin who had nearly taken his head off with a sniper rifle days ago. A man like Qiao Zhennan didn't cancel a hit just because it failed once. The killer could be out there right now, watching through a scope.
An hour dragged by in tense silence. Then, a shadow detached itself from the darkness—Ling Feng.
"Big Brother," he whispered, sliding next to them. "They're here."
Xiao Ke, Ye Yun, and their lieutenants, Duan Canglong and Luo Hou, looked toward the horizon. Beams of light cut through the dust, dancing across the stone pillars. The low rumble of heavy engines vibrated through the rock beneath their feet.
"Prepare yourselves," Xiao Ke commanded.
In the lead vehicle of the Double Eagle convoy, Qiao Qing rode shotgun, his knuckles white as he gripped the hilt of his combat blade. His eyes darted across the jagged landscape, sharp as a hawk's.
He was no stranger to danger. He had run this gauntlet before, even venturing into the nightmare of the Qiongqi Zombie City to kneel before the Scorpion Tyrant and negotiate this deal. But dealing with zombies was never routine. Tonight, he wasn't meeting a Tyrant, just its emissaries, yet the sweat on his back was cold. Zombies were unpredictable. A trade could turn into a slaughter in the blink of an eye.
"Hold up," Qiao Qing barked.
Ahead, in the middle of the narrow pass, figures stood silhouetted in the headlights. Hunched, motionless, unmistakable.
The convoy ground to a halt. The engines idled, a collective growl in the canyon.
"Boss Qiao," his subordinate Han Shan whispered, "is that the reception committee?"
Qiao Qing narrowed his eyes. "No. If these were the Tyrant's servants, they'd have crates of Black Crystals. And look at them—too few, too weak. Something's wrong."
"Orders?"
"Everybody out. Weapons hot. Stay sharp."
The doors flew open. Aside from the drivers, over a hundred and twenty guards spilled out, forming a defensive perimeter. The lower-ranked guards leveled their rifles; the elite, channeling Origin Force, drew shimmering blades.
Qiao Qing gestured to Han Shan. "Take a team. Check it out."
Han Shan, a Level 5 Warlord, didn't survive this long by being careless. He signaled twenty men forward. They approached the silent figures with measured steps, fingers on triggers.
As they closed the distance, Han Shan lowered his weapon, confused. "What the hell?"
The zombies were dead. Properly dead. Their skulls had been cracked open, the valuable cores removed. They were propped up like scarecrows, wooden stakes driven into their backs to keep them upright.
"It's a prank," Han Shan spat, the tension leaving his body in a rush of anger. "Some scavenger idiot thinks they're funny."
He stepped forward and kicked the lead corpse. "Who are you trying to scare, you piece of—"
Click.
The sound was small, mechanical, and terrifying.
As the corpse toppled, it triggered the pressure plate beneath the dirt. Han Shan looked down, his eyes widening as he saw the disturbed earth revealing a nest of grenades.
"Fuck."
The word was consumed by the roar. The ground erupted. A flower of fire and shrapnel bloomed in the center of the pass, vaporizing Han Shan and his twenty men instantly.
"Ambush!" Qiao Qing screamed, shielding his eyes from the blast. "Defensive positions!"
It was too late. Gunfire rained down from the cliffs. The darkness muzzle-flashed on all sides. The Double Eagle guards, disoriented and exposed, fell in waves.
From the shadows emerged Xiao Ke, Ling Feng, and Ye Yun. Their voices boomed over the chaos. "Leave the cargo and walk away! Surrender and live, resist and die!"
Qiao Qing looked at his decimated squad, his fear turning to incandescent rage. He was a Level 8 Valiant General; he would not be cowed by bandits. He ignited his lightsaber, the blade humming with energy.
"Rats!" he roared. "Do you know whose goods you're stealing? The Qiao family will hunt you to the ends of the earth!"
Xiao Ke stepped into the light, his saber resting on his shoulder. "If this were Kirin City, that name might mean something. But here? In the Lawless Lands? You're just another corpse waiting to happen."
Qiao Qing realized then that these weren't random raiders. They knew exactly who they were hitting. "Who are you? Guns & Roses? Iron Wheel?"
Xiao Ke didn't answer. He signaled his siblings. "Together. Take him down fast."
"On it," Ling Feng grinned.
The three of them blurred into motion, three streaks of lethal intent converging on the convoy leader.
While the commanders clashed, the Iron Wheel soldiers secured the trucks. They cracked the seals on the containers, expecting weapons, gold, or narcotics. Instead, gasps of horror rippled through the ranks.
Luo Hou sprinted back to the command line, his face pale. "Commander! The cargo... It's not good. It's people."
Xiao Ke, mid-stride, faltered. Even Ling Feng and Ye Yun paused their assault, shock registering in their eyes.
"Cages," Luo Hou reported breathlessly. "Rows of them. Men, civilians. They're trafficking humans to the zombies."
A cold fury settled over Xiao Ke. He had suspected the corruption ran deep, but this? Selling their own kind to be eaten or enslaved? It was a betrayal of the species.
"Ling Feng," Xiao Ke said, his voice dropping to a glacial whisper. "Finish him. Capture if you can. If not, put him down."
Ling Feng nodded, his playful demeanor replaced by a grim focus. He lunged at Qiao Qing.
Meanwhile, Xiao Ke moved to the nearest truck. With a flex of immense strength, he sheared the padlock off an iron cage. Inside, huddled a group of emaciated men, their eyes wide with terror.
"Who are you?" Xiao Ke asked.
One man, barely conscious, whispered, "Vermilion Bird City... we were hired... construction work, they said. High pay. We left the walls, and they... they chained us. Where are we?"
"The Lawless Lands," Xiao Ke said gently.
The realization broke the prisoners. Wails of despair echoed against the stone pillars. They knew the rumors. They knew what happened to people sold in the wastelands.
"Get them out," Xiao Ke ordered his men. "Every single one. Now."
Across the battlefield, the duel was ending. Qiao Qing was strong, but he was no match for three opponents of equal caliber. Ling Feng landed a devastating blow, and Qiao Qing turned to flee, bleeding heavily.
He scrambled away, his breath ragged, desperation fueling his legs. Suddenly, he stopped.
Ling Feng stopped too.
From the darkness of the road ahead, a new sound emerged. Not engines, but the heavy, rhythmic thud of massive footsteps and the clicking of claws.
Out of the gloom marched a nightmare.
Leading the procession was a towering figure astride a three-headed hellhound. It was a Blade Wolf Rider—a Level 9 monstrosity. Its head was a triangular bone helmet, its left arm a writhing tentacle whip, its right a serrated bone blade.
Behind it came two Demon Apostles, flanked by Frieza zombies and a horde of lesser undead. Bringing up the rear were five Titan Zombies, colossal beasts serving as pack mules, carrying heavy crates of payment.
The trading partners had arrived.
Ling Feng's face drained of color. "Big Brother! Zombies! A freaking army! It's a Level 9 Blade Wolf Rider!"
But Qiao Qing didn't look afraid. He looked ecstatic.
"You're here!" Qiao Qing screamed, laughter bubbling up through the blood in his throat. He ran toward the monsters, waving his arms. "Finally! Help me! Kill these bandits! They tried to steal your merchandise!"
He sprinted toward the Blade Wolf Rider like a man running into the arms of a savior.
The Zombie Knight sat motionless on its hellhound. It tilted its head, the sensory pits along its skull flaring. It smelled the blood pouring from Qiao Qing's wounds. To the creature, this wasn't a partner. It was an appetizer.
As Qiao Qing reached them, panting, a look of confusion crossed his face. The Blade Wolf Rider didn't speak. It smiled—a grotesque stretching of dead skin.
Snap.
The tentacle whip shot out faster than the eye could follow. It wrapped around Qiao Qing's neck, hoisting him into the air like a rag doll.
"Wait..." Qiao Qing choked, clawing at the fleshy noose. "I... I'm the contact... the Double Eagle..."
The Blade Wolf Rider ignored the noise. With a casual thrust, it drove its bone blade through Qiao Qing's chest.
The zombie withdrew the blade, letting the hot blood spray over its face. It opened its mouth, drinking in the crimson rain with trembling ecstasy.
"Delicious," the creature rasped, its voice like grinding stones.
It tossed Qiao Qing's limp body aside like garbage. The Blade Wolf Rider turned its gaze toward Xiao Ke, Ling Feng, and the hundreds of humans frozen near the trucks.
"This transaction is... complicated," the monster growled, its eyes glowing with predatory malice. "Forget the trade. Take them all. The Tyrant wants livestock? We'll bring him a feast."