Once the armored vehicles were clear of danger, the convoy slowed and finally stopped five kilometers from the hell tornado.
Even at this distance, the storm's fury was palpable. Stones the size of washbasins were lifted into the air and hurled toward the vortex.
Just as suddenly as it had appeared, the tornado began to unravel. Within three minutes, it dissipated before their eyes. But what it left behind was no less dangerous—tons of rock and mud rained down like hail from the sky.
The convoy wasn't spared. A boulder weighing hundreds of pounds smashed against an armored vehicle, jarring the frame. Lin Xinghai felt the chill of nature's power again.
Without the vehicle's alloy shell, he realized, a person wouldn't need to be sucked into the tornado to die—the falling debris alone would crush them.
"Everyone out. Inspection." Roger's order came the moment the barrage ended.
Lin Xinghai followed the others down. Every vehicle had stopped—this was procedure.
There was little chance of real damage. The armored hulls weren't steel but high-strength alloy, shrugging off blows that would crumple tanks. Even the lighter off-road vehicles had survived.
Only two systems demanded attention. The engines, stressed to their limits during the escape, required immediate checks. And the rocket thrusters.
Lin counted sixteen thrusters along the rear half of their armored carrier. No wonder the fifty-ton beast had nearly flown when they'd accelerated—it wasn't brute force, but sixteen rockets screaming in unison.
Each thruster needed not just inspection but refueling. Or rather, recharging.
The fuel was no conventional gas or nitrous. They ran on energy crystals.
Lin noticed the pained look on Roger's face as technicians began swapping them out. The answer was obvious.
"This the same energy crystal we're after?" Lin asked.
"Almost. These are second-compressed crystals. Pricier. The batch we just burned through… around three thousand points." Roger's voice was bitter.
Lin was stunned. For most first-level mercenary groups, a mission's net profit—after expenses—barely equaled that amount.
Half an hour later, inspections finished and thrusters reloaded, the convoy rolled on.
No new disasters struck. Before long, the ruined suburbs of Tianshan City stretched before them.
Collapsed houses, skeletal ruins—scars of twenty years of disaster. Structures that remained upright spoke of incredible resilience.
The zombie detector never stopped sounding. At first, only one or two pings. Then ten. Twenty. Thirty.
More alarming, half the signals burned dark red—intermediate zombies. The city's outskirts already bristled with threats stronger than what they'd faced before.
Lin swallowed hard. Even this gathering was beyond what his squad alone could handle. Intermediate zombies, up close, could tear through men with terrifying ease.
But the Lietian Mercenary Group hadn't come unprepared.
The off-road vehicles, idle until now, rumbled forward to the head of the column. On each roof, a mercenary swung into position behind what Lin had thought were heavy machine guns.
They came alive. Barrels extended, their bases pulsing with a glow of blue light. Electricity flickered at the muzzles.
Not machine guns. Weapons of another order entirely.
Roger stepped up beside Lin Xinghai, explaining, "Electromagnetic rail guns. We'll use two for crossfire. As long as ammo and energy hold, even a thousand zombies can be shredded before they reach us."
Lin managed a weak smile. His guess about machine guns hadn't even been close.
Roger went on, voice steady and practiced. "Teams Two and Three will cover the flanks and handle emergencies."
The two armored carriers behind surged forward, moving to the convoy's center. Hatches opened on their roofs, revealing the towering frames of mechas. Fang Tianhe and Shen Han climbed inside, the strongest warriors taking their posts.
Roger nodded toward them. "Strictly speaking, those two mechas—Splitting Sky and Sky Frost—will be handling the bulk of it."
Lin glanced back at his own squad. From the vanguard, they had been shifted to the rear. He felt the sting of it—not from pride, but from frustration. If the enemy was shredded up front, what about his chance to harvest Yuanjing? To build blood energy?
Roger, noticing his look, added with a smile, "Rear guard duty's easier. Think of it as rest."
Then his tone hardened. "But don't actually rest. There'll be plenty of targets. Treat this as training—every shot matters. Use this chance to sharpen your aim as fast as possible."