Cheng Shuili leaned back, her gaze softening as she took in the plush sofa. Now this is living. She'd been fretting about where to crash tonight—the driver's seat of her old shopping cart was about as cozy as a pile of rocks. Her past life had been a grind of endless toil, but this time? She was going to savor every second.
The vehicle upgrade was practically sentient, rolling out the red carpet for her. With this setup, Cheng Shuili was hands-down the comfiest survivor on this apocalyptic highway.
"Hell yeah, this is the life!" she whooped, diving onto the sofa. The soft cushions hugged her aching muscles, a stark contrast to the bone-rattling driver's seat she'd endured all day.
Hours of driving had left her body screaming in protest. More than once, she'd been tempted to pull over and stretch, but the lure of frontrunner rewards kept her glued to the wheel. Now, sprawled on this glorious sofa, she scanned her new digs. A small water tank sat beside the sink—add domestic water, and the faucet would work. Not bad, cart. Not bad.
A guttural wail pierced the night, snapping her out of her reverie.
Cheng Shuili bolted upright, heart thudding. Seconds ticked by. She glanced at her stack of mineral water bottles—still undisturbed. Must be miles away. It was the newbie protection period, after all. No way monsters could barge into her cart and start slashing… right?
Right?
Doubt gnawed at her. She slid to the compartment door, cracked it open, and peeked out.
Scarlet eyes glowed in the darkness, not too close but not far enough for comfort. Dozens—maybe hundreds—stared back, unblinking. The sight sent a shiver down her spine, and when those eyes locked onto her, the air erupted in a cacophony of shrieks. For a split second, she pictured herself flooring the gas and peeling out in her gilded cart.
She held her ground, staring into the crimson sea.
Then it hit her: they weren't moving. Not a single step. Just howling like a pack of banshees throwing a tantrum. All bark, no bite? That had to be the newbie protection at work.
"Keep it chill, monster bros," she muttered, slamming the door and flopping back onto the sofa. Safe and sound.
Outside, the monsters traded confused glances. They'd been this close to breaking free, and this human just… noped out? What kind of nerve does she have?
While Cheng Shuili basked in her cozy haven, the regional chat channel was a warzone of panic. Messages zipped by so fast they blurred into a digital storm—cries for help, desperate trade offers, pure chaos.
[Little Sheep]: SOS! Someone help!
[Melancholy Plum]: Same! Need weapons, will pay big!
[Glory Shines on Blue Star]: DO NOT STARE AT THE MONSTERS! I REPEAT, DO NOT STARE!
[Glory Shines on Blue Star]: We tested it. Five minutes of eye contact, and they take a step toward your vehicle. Keep staring, and they'll keep coming until they eat you alive!
He spammed the warning until it sank in.
[Fries at the Pier]: Holy crap, that's it?! Thanks, Glory Boss!
[Durability]: You're a lifesaver, Glory. Name your price!
Cheng Shuili scrolled through, intrigued. This Glory guy was something else—dishing out life-saving intel like it was candy, no strings attached. A rare breed in this cutthroat game. A wild thought sparked: Is he with Longguo's government?
She couldn't be sure. Not yet. But she added [Glory Shines on Blue Star] to her watchlist. His messages would ping her instantly now—perfect for intel or sniffing out his true identity. Two birds, one stone.
The first night passed in blissful comfort. At 6 a.m., Cheng Shuili dragged herself awake, rubbing sleep from her eyes. In a clearing, she stumbled through a groggy Tai Chi routine, half-closed eyes and all. Past life was a bust. This life? Health is wealth.
Yawning, she scratched her tangled hair and froze. The monsters were still there, frozen in the dawn's gray light. Now she could see them clearly.
One type was humanoid, slathered in oily sludge, plastic debris floating on their skin like toxic confetti. Their blood-red eyes burned like warning lights—those were the creeps she'd spotted last night. Another type was translucent, their mangled flesh a grotesque mosaic. They reached for her with skeletal hands, letting out wails that could wake the dead.
One particularly loud shriek jolted her fully awake. "If there were cops here, I'd slap you with a noise complaint," she grumbled.
The rest were a freakshow of mismatched horrors, crammed together like a nightmare convention. Some poor saps were even squashed underfoot by their comrades. Cheng Shuili tsked, shaking her head. "No manners, no organization. Typical."
She turned away, splashing a precious dribble of mineral water onto her hands to wipe her face. Washed…-ish. Drinking water was scarce, and domestic water was a pipe dream. Survival chic, baby.
Breakfast was a pack of compressed biscuits, scarfed down with a bottle of water. Small but filling, they did the job. She popped two multivitamins for good measure. Scurvy's not on my bingo card. Wellness for the win.
At 8 a.m., the sun roared to life, scorching the earth. The monsters faded to transparency, then poof—gone. Cheng Shuili squinted at the sky, shielding her eyes. Nothing weird about the sun, but the heat was climbing fast. She had a hunch: once the newbie protection ended, it wouldn't just be monsters. Blizzards, heatwaves, who knew what else was coming?
She ditched her jacket, rocking a short-sleeve tee, and hopped into the driver's seat, twisting the handle.
[Day 2 Journey Requirement: 60 kilometers.]
Ten more klicks than yesterday. Child's play. Her past life was a soul-crushing 007 slog; this highway survival game? Practically a vacation.
Why does that feel so wrong?
The upgraded cart purred along, its new windshield sparing her from the wind's assault. The speed boost was noticeable, eating up the road like a champ. An hour in, a speck appeared in her rearview mirror. It grew larger, closer, until she made it out.
A mountain of a man, all rippling muscle, was pedaling a bicycle like his life depended on it. Sweat poured off him, hitting the sizzling asphalt and vanishing in puffs of steam.
Cheng Shuili's brain screamed one word: Highway merge.
She stole a glance at his hulking frame, then pinched her own scrawny biceps. Nope. Not sticking around for this.
Floor it? Hell yes. Only an idiot would wait.