Three days later, Xiao Ke, flanked by Ling Feng, Ye Yun, and Qin Bing, led the Iron Wheel battlegroup out of Qilin City. There were no fanfares, no tearful goodbyes, and no ceremonies. They simply vanished into the waste.
The Iron Wheel moved by land, a steel snake winding through the dust. Armored SUVs took point, followed by the lumbering troop carriers the men called "Battle Buses," with heavy supply trucks bringing up the rear. Their destination: the Lawless Lands.
But as the convoy's engines roared across the plains, they were unaware they were being hunted.
A solitary figure, cloaked entirely in black, trailed them. He carried a full combat load yet used no vehicle, jogging with a relentless, mechanical rhythm. He kept a steady five-kilometer gap, trailing the convoy like a ghost.
During the day, the gap might widen to twenty or thirty kilometers, but the cloaked figure moved with the endurance of a marathon runner. Unhurried. Inexorable. By the dead of night, he always closed the distance.
This shadow was exactly that—"Shadow," the personal assassin of Qiao Zhennan.
Shadow was a Level 9 Brave General, a tier of power that commanded respect. His original plan had been simple: wait until the convoy left the Central Province, find a gap in their defenses, and put a blade in Xiao Ke.
But he hadn't counted on the company Xiao Ke kept. Specifically, Qin Bing—the woman formerly known as the "Valkyrie" of the Black Shark organization. She was also a Level 9, her combat prowess equal to his own. Worse, she and the other lieutenants rarely left Xiao Ke's side.
Shadow found no opening. Yet, like a rattlesnake coiled in the desert sand, his patience was infinite. He would wait. He only needed one mistake.
The Iron Wheel pushed forward for over two weeks before finally crossing the threshold into the Forsaken Lands.
Entering this region felt less like crossing a border and more like stepping off the edge of the world. The landscape turned jagged and gray. Villages became scarce; the earth, barren. Vultures spiraled overhead, waiting for the land to claim its next victim. Occasionally, the convoy passed withered trees adorned with hanging corpses, swaying gently in the dry wind.
Scrawled on rocks in dried blood were greetings like: Welcome to Hell.
The legends said the natives here were feral, products of a dog-eat-dog world. Xiao Ke and his men felt that hostility the moment their tires hit the dirt.
To make matters worse, their water reserves tapped out just as they entered the territory. Their target, Anping Town, was still a hundred clicks away.
Luck, however, seemed to favor them. They crossed paths with a merchant caravan—seven trucks and twenty souls.
Xiao Ke, accompanied by his lieutenants, approached the caravan. It was a simple request: enough water to wet the troops' whistles. Their throats were burning.
In the civilized zones, a civilian caravan wouldn't dare refuse a military unit. A few soldiers would simply demand the supplies, and that would be that. But this was the Lawless Lands. Here, the locals felt abandoned by the Empire. They didn't view soldiers as protectors; they viewed them as intruders.
Exercising caution, Xiao Ke negotiated personally.
The owner was a young man named Huo Shifeng. At twenty-four, he was bright-eyed and surprisingly warm-hearted. Upon hearing their plight, he didn't hesitate to order his men to share half their water stock.
His uncle, Huo Chang—a Level 6 Warlord and head of the caravan's security—was less enthusiastic. He watched Xiao Ke with hawk-like suspicion, hand hovering near his weapon, clearly expecting a shakedown.
It turned out this was Huo Shifeng's first run. He had been a simple herb merchant in Vermilion Bird City, but had heard the profit margins in the borderlands were astronomical. He pooled his savings, grabbed his uncle, hired some muscle, and headed out to make his fortune.
While the uncle knew the cruelty of the world, the nephew was still fueled by optimism.
The transaction went smoothly. The Iron Wheel took only water, offering thanks in return. A relieved Huo Shifeng waved them off, and the caravan trundled on.
Xiao Ke ordered a thirty-minute rest for his unit. He took a swig from a canteen and tossed it to his heavy hitter, Duan Canglong.
"They say everyone out here is a savage," Xiao Ke mused, wiping his mouth. "But looking at that kid, Huo Shifeng, I'd say the rumors are exaggerated. There are still good people left."
Qin Bing, cleaning her blade, didn't look up. "We're a regiment of a thousand heavily armed soldiers. There are twenty civilians. They gave us water because they didn't want to die."
"No," Ye Yun interjected softly. "The kid didn't give us water out of fear. He did it because he's green."
The group paused. "Green?" Xiao Ke asked.
"Did you see his eyes?" Ye Yun said, her voice flat. "Full of excitement. Hope. Half his trucks are brand new, and his security detail is woefully understaffed. He's a tourist. If he were a veteran of this place, he would have hidden the moment he saw our dust cloud—Imperial flags or not."
The group fell silent, impressed by Ye Yun's sharp observation.
Thirty minutes later, the Iron Wheel rolled out.
Fifty kilometers down the road, the convoy ground to a halt.
Bodies littered the wasteland ahead. The blood was still tacky, dark pools soaking into the dry earth. Vultures were already landing, fighting over the freshest cuts of meat.
Xiao Ke leaped from his jeep, boots crunching on the gravel. He frowned at the carnage. His lieutenants gathered around him.
"Battle wasn't long ago," Qin Bing noted, scanning the horizon.
Xiao Ke waved a vulture away from a body. The clothes looked familiar.
"Boss," Ling Feng called out, his voice tight. "Over here."
Xiao Ke walked over. Lying at Ling Feng's feet were two bodies. One was the hardened uncle, Huo Chang. The other was the young optimist, Huo Shifeng.
Ye Yun sighed. "Slaughtered and looted. It didn't take long."
Xiao Ke looked down at the young merchant's vacant stare. He felt a sudden, sharp pang of guilt mixed with a cold fury. He mentally retracted his earlier sentiment. The people here weren't misunderstood. They were demons.
"Bury them," Xiao Ke said after a long silence. His voice was hard as iron. "And heads on a swivel. We're pushing through to Anping."
Anping Town was a scar on the face of the Forsaken Lands.
Situated at a major crossroads, it was larger than most settlements in the wastes—a sprawling hub of fifty thousand natives and triple that number in drifters, exiles, and criminals. It was a black market masquerading as a town.
The streets were narrow, the buildings cobbled together from scrap, but the commerce was high-end. In the mud-spattered stalls, you could buy anything. Low-level zombie cores, rare black crystals, medicinal herbs, and custom weaponry were laid out on blankets next to military-grade contraband—stolen serums, recovery potions, and standard-issue rifles.
If your pockets were deep enough, you could even buy a live Hellhound or a Titan Zombie as a pet.
The crowd was a melting pot of criminals from the Dragon Kingdom and the West. Everyone walked with a swagger; everyone was armed. The collective vibe of the population was simple: Fuck with me, and you die.
As Xiao Ke's convoy neared the town limits, the road was blocked.
A group of fifty men stood in their path. They wore matching combat fatigues adorned with a flashy emblem: a crossed revolver and a rose. Leading them was a middle-aged man with a slight hunchback and a meticulously groomed handlebar mustache.
"Brakes!" the mustache man shouted. "Who are you, and what's your business?"
In the lead SUV, Duan Canglong didn't slow down. He kept his foot heavy on the gas, glancing at Xiao Ke in the passenger seat.
"Boss, permission to turn them into roadkill?"
"Not yet," Xiao Ke said calmly. "Let's see what the game is. Stop the car."
Duan Canglong grinned. He had seen what happened to the merchant caravan. He knew kindness was a weakness here. He accelerated, the engine roaring like a beast, barreling straight toward the roadblock.
The militia men flinched, hands flying to their weapons, but the Hunchback hissed, "Hold! Nobody fires without my command!"
SCREECH.
Duan Canglong slammed the brakes at the last possible second. The armored SUV locked up, tires carving deep furrows into the dirt, skidding to a halt less than two feet from the Hunchback's face. Behind them, the entire convoy mirrored the move—Battle Buses and trucks braking in perfect unison, bumper-to-bumper, without a single collision.
It was a display of disciplined, terrifying precision.
The Hunchback stared at the grill of the jeep, a nervous tic jumping under his eye.
Xiao Ke stepped out, towering over the militia leader.
"If you don't recognize the Iron Wheel unit patch," Xiao Ke said, looking down his nose, "surely you recognize the Imperial flag? I am Xiao Ke, Myriad Commander of the Empire. We are on a mission. Move."
The Hunchback and his men exchanged glances. Then, they threw their heads back and laughed.
Xiao Ke stood impassively while the militia cackled. His men, hands on their rifles, were less amused.
The Hunchback wiped a tear from his eye and sneered. "Look at this. Another fresh recruit. Listen, kid, out here in the Lawless Lands, 'Empire' and 'Commander' don't mean shit. The last Myriad Commander who tried to swing his dick around here got hanged by my organization, Guns & Roses. His dried-up carcass is probably still spinning in the wind."
He stepped closer, emboldened. "You brought a thousand men? Cute. You picked the wrong neighborhood to play soldier."
"Guns & Roses?" Xiao Ke asked, eyebrows raised.
Ling Feng leaned in, whispering, "Notorious local warlord faction. Over ten thousand soldiers. Their leader is a Level 9. This is their turf."
The Hunchback, a Level 6 Warlord himself, had ears like a bat. "Glad someone here did their homework," he smirked. "Here's the deal. Anping is ours. You want in? There's a tax. One gold coin a head. Entrance fee. Standard rate, no exceptions. Pay the thousand coins, and you can go in, do your little mission, and buy your supplies. Don't pay..." He trailed off, shrugging.
Xiao Ke smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You're extorting me?"
"I'm being polite," the Hunchback growled. "There are fifty of us here. But if I call the main force, today becomes your funeral. Do the math."
Xiao Ke nodded slowly, rubbing his chin as if weighing the financial implications. The Hunchback relaxed, thinking he had won.
"Okay," Xiao Ke said. "I've thought about it."
He turned to his men.
"Take them all down. Break every bone in their arms and legs. If they resist, kill them."
The Hunchback's eyes bulged. He hadn't expected the calculation to end in violence.
His men scrambled for their guns, but they were amateurs facing professionals.
The Iron Wheel soldiers moved like a blurred wave. Gunfire cracked, followed by the wet thud of blades meeting flesh. It was over in seconds. Most of the militia were cut down instantly; the few who surrendered were systematically crippled, their screams joining the dust in the air.
Only the Hunchback was left standing, trembling in a circle of his dead subordinates. His face was the color of ash. He stared at the young commander, realizing too late that this was not a "fresh recruit." This was a predator.
"You... you actually attacked us..." he stammered. "The rules..."
Xiao Ke stepped over a body, leaning in close to the terrified man.
"Rules are meant to be broken," Xiao Ke said softly. "Your rules don't apply anymore. From now on, the Iron Wheel calls the shots."