Miss Wang Weina, even your cousin won't do!

"Yan? I've heard Longmen is a good place. They recently reformed their police force. I have a relative there and I'm planning to live there. I'll go and stay with him."

"That's what the driver said."

"Police... what are they?" the passenger in the front seat asked, even more confused.

The driver explained, "It's just like our National Guard."

The passenger's face changed: "That's really bad. The National Guard, in order to fight the military, took all the money from my bank account a few days ago under the guise of a 'loan.' They say it's a loan, but who dares to ask them to pay it back? The big shots gave them the right to shoot, and they can empty a magazine if they disagree with you. We still can't go to Lungmen."

"The Yan police and our National Guard are not the same thing."

At this moment, it was Loken Williams, who was so shaken he couldn't sleep, who spoke up.

“I have dealt with the Yan people and also done business with Mr. Wei Yanwu, the governor of Lungmen. The police in Lungmen are called the Guard Bureau, which is run by a woman codenamed “Nine.” They are far inferior to the National Guard, of course, I mean the bad things.”

Loken Williams pursed his lips:

"Going to Lungmen to live isn't a bad idea, but Wei Yanwu isn't a very generous person. He also has a Rat King under his command. As long as you don't offend them, your basic safety can be guaranteed, which is much better than Columbia..."

"Oh, we're nothing like you, Mr. Williams. How could we, such insignificant people, possibly offend those big shots?"

The driver laughed heartily and made a self-deprecating remark.

"Bam—"

Suddenly, a sudden explosion drowned out the laughter. The driver froze, glanced at the dashboard displaying a gradual deceleration, frowned, and then angrily slammed his fist on the steering wheel.

"Fuck, I have a flat tire!"

The wasteland was littered with tools left behind by the settlers. Most of these tools were now scrap metal, but some were still quite sharp and capable of piercing tires. Examples included pickaxes, hoes, and Originium reaction detectors.

Bumpy rides are the norm here, and tire blowouts are not uncommon, just relatively rare. The driver didn't think much of it, told the passenger, opened the car door, and jumped out.

As an experienced driver, he naturally had a spare tire.

However, as soon as he got out of the carriage, a crossbow bolt shot to his feet, followed immediately by a shout from the darkness not far away:

"Don't move, raise your hand!"

"Holy crap! Don't do it!"

Without hesitation, the driver immediately raised his hands, giving a Gallic salute to the unknown attacker.

If you encounter someone hijacking your car in the wilderness, don't think about resisting, because resistance is useless.

Those who survive in the wilderness are no ordinary people, especially those wandering the Colombian wilderness. Most of them are abandoned pioneers, Sarkaz, Rusty Hammers, or a combination of all three. They know the weapons carried by Colombian soldiers inside and out, have extensive wilderness survival experience, and have completely abandoned their humanity, killing without blinking an eye.

He was just a driver trying to make a living; there was no need for him to mess with them. And as far as he knew, these organizations generally didn't bother passing vehicles or people; they usually only wanted money, not lives. The driver just wanted them to grab the money and leave as quickly as possible.

"Don't do anything, brother, I'm just a passerby."

The driver covered his face with his hands as he spoke.

"I didn't see what you look like, and I don't care what you want to do. Do whatever you want, I'll obey. You can rob me or rape me, just don't take my life."

"Are you in the prison van transporting Loken Williams?"

The crossbowman emerged from the shadows, glanced at the cowardly driver, and then disdainfully looked away, focusing his gaze on the makeshift cells at the back of the prison van.

The driver hesitated for a moment, briefly questioning the meaning of life.

Damn it, what's going on? He just finished saying that in such a large wasteland, no one would be stupid enough to hijack a prison van, and then he got blocked by people, and judging by the looks of it, they were specifically after Loken Williams...

Those who were blocking the way even knew that Loken Williams' prison van would pass by here at this time tonight. Ordinary people wouldn't know this. This attacker at the very least has an official background, and it's even very likely that he was sent by the authorities.

Are the gentlemen really unwilling to let go of a prisoner who is going to serve three thousand years in jail?

But these were no longer things the driver should be thinking about; he quickly nodded.

"Yes, yes, this is the car."

"That's good. We've hijacked the car now, and Loken Williams disappeared after the hijacking. There was a fight at the scene, it was chaotic, do you understand?"

"Understood, understood," the driver replied.

"That's good. We'll drive off then," the crossbowman said, walking towards the driver's seat. The driver, realizing something was amiss, understood.

It's at least dozens of kilometers from the city. They have no water or food, and their car has been hijacked. How are they going to get back?

Isn't this just leaving them to die in the wasteland?

He quickly grabbed the crossbowman's hand and said in the most humble tone:

"Sir, sir, please give us a way out! If you drive the car away, we'll just wait to die."

The crossbowman turned his head, sneering, and asked, "Waiting to die or dying now, which would you choose?"

The driver's face stiffened, and by the time he came to his senses, his hand had been flung away. The crossbowman stomped onto the prison van, kicked the panicked man in the passenger seat off, then turned and peered through the small window between the driver's seat and the cell, greeting Loken Williams inside:

“Mr. Loken Williams, you didn’t expect that we would meet again.”

Loken Williams frowned, looked at the somewhat familiar man in front of him, and after a long while, suddenly widened his eyes.

"It seems you recognize me. Thanks to the Toplitz reporter, the military and the political establishment have officially gone to war. The military government and the provisional government are locked in a standoff in the east and west. The military is short-staffed, so I was released to carry out this mission and redeem myself. It's just such a coincidence that I'm meeting you again in this current capacity."

The man paused, then recalled with a touch of emotion:

"Last time, I was still a brigadier general, and you were the president of Loken Water Tank Laboratory. I tried to negotiate a deal with you, but you refused no matter what I said, forcing the military to choose Rhine Labs. In the end, we suffered a silent loss at the hands of Victoria and even started a war with the political world. You are undoubtedly the culprit."

He put away his memories and gave a sarcastic smile.

"And this time, I am your benefactor, a demoted soldier, while you are a prisoner... This time, the military still hopes that you will hand over the information and research data related to the [Transcendent Mass Production Project]. What do you say?"

"These documents have already been taken away by the gentlemen of parliament."

Loken Williams replied.

The crossbowman chuckled and shook his head:

"Really? I don't believe it. Would someone as powerful as Loken Williams not have a backup plan or a way out? They probably didn't take the complete set. According to our informants, a lot is missing, including the most crucial experimental data from subjects 001 to 009. You should still have that data in your possession, something you're prepared to use to save your life in a critical moment."

"Selling yourself to the gentry in the political arena to save your life, selling yourself to the military to save your life is also a way to save your life. Now your life is in my hands. Whether you die or go missing after the carjacking is entirely up to me. I hope you've thought it through."

Loken Williams gave the crossbowman a deep look, pondered for a long time, and finally nodded.

"I understand. But you have to take me to a safe place first before I hand over the information to you."

He had no choice but to do this.

As for whether the military would choose to kill him to silence him after obtaining the information, he didn't know and wasn't sure. But he knew that every extra day, every extra hour, every extra minute was precious.

This was his struggle to survive.

"A smart person."

The crossbowman praised the man, put his finger to his lips, and whistled, presumably to notify the others in ambush that the operation had been successful.

However, after a moment, the other soldiers lying in ambush, who should have responded, did not. The crossbowman frowned, raised his crossbow, and cautiously poked his head out from the carriage door.

It was pitch black outside, and everything seemed normal. Perhaps the driver and passenger had already escaped? He didn't care; his teammates, lying in ambush, would decide whether to deal with them based on the situation.

He blew his whistle again, but still no one responded.

Not right.

He instinctively sensed something was wrong, but couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was.

It's so dark around here. Just a moment ago I could at least see the road, but now, unless I wear night vision goggles, I can't even see my own five fingers.

The crossbowman casually slid the night vision goggles off his helmet and put them in front of his eyes.

Then, he witnessed a supernatural scene.

In front of him, to his sides, and behind him, massive iron walls had been erected, encircling him like a giant cylinder. Not only could no whistle be heard, but even the sound of an explosion might not be able to escape.

He was isolated. Was someone setting an ambush? Did politicians become aware of their operation?

The crossbowman didn't have time to think. He looked up to see how tall the giant barrel was and whether he could use tools to climb out.

But the higher he tilted his head back, the higher he looked, until his gaze could no longer move upwards, he finally saw the "apex" of the cylinder.

Those were three pairs of "eyes" emitting a red glow.

At that moment, he suddenly realized that what was surrounding him was not a barrel at all, but the body of a huge "three-headed steel python"!

"boom--!"

As if simulating the roar of a giant dragon, the three heads of the steel dragon slammed together, creating a deafening roar that echoed throughout the entire [Scrap Zone]!

Chapter 77 I can attest that she didn't pad it.

"boom--!"

With a loud bang coming from afar, Kal'tsit, who had been pretending to be asleep with her eyes closed, suddenly stood up, causing Vayne, who was leaning against her, to suddenly lose her support and fall to the ground with a thud.

"Target spotted!"

"The sound is so loud, I could hear it even without mon3tr."

Wayne rubbed his cheek, which had been pricked by a small pebble on the ground. It hurt a little, but he couldn't feel any wound. Thankfully, he wasn't disfigured. Fiona had made such a commotion that it could be heard clearly throughout almost the entire slag heap. Wayne, who considered himself a feline at least, had decent hearing and couldn't possibly have missed it.

mon3tr: "(An unhappy roar)!"

Wayne took a half step back, waved his hand, and said, "Okay, okay, I didn't hear you, I didn't hear you. It's all thanks to our lovely little mon3tr. You're the one who found out, alright?"

What a monster he is, yet he acts like a child, trying to curry favor with Kal'tsit.

mon3tr: "(A smug groan)"

Kal'tsit tapped mon3tr on the head and frowned, saying:

"Stop fooling around, mon3tr. You lead the way and take us to the place where the noise is coming from."

A green light flashed in mon3tr's eyes, and he looked at Kal'tsit with a pitiful expression.

How could you be like this? You were the one who made me lie on the ground to listen to the sound, and I heard it. Instead of praising me, you complain about me.

If it were any other pet, they would have given up long ago. But I'm different; I'm mon3tr. What can I do? I can only obediently forgive you.

mon3tr: "(A mournful cry)".

A question mark popped up above Kal'tsit's head. What happened? Mon3tr was quite energetic just now, how come he suddenly went limp?

I, the all-knowing Kal'tsit, can't even understand the special case of Vayne, but how come I can't even understand the little scheme of a mon3tr now?

Is it that times are changing too fast, or am I finally getting too old and outdated?