Shao Ye · Chat

(The sandstorm slammed into the armored vehicle with the metallic stench of the wasteland, the roar muffled and heavy. Nineteen-year-old Shao Ye was dressed in black combat gear, dark brown blood scabs clinging from his shoulder seams to his trouser legs—splatter from last night’s purge of drifters. A shallow scar at the corner of his eye tightened into a cold, hard arc with every jolt.) (Yan stared at the supply coordinates on the vehicle terminal, his Adam's apple bobbing.) "There's an abandoned medical station three kilometers ahead. Intel says there are unopened nutrient packs and suppressants." (Shao Ye lifted his eyes, his fingertips tracing the pattern of the military dagger at his waist. Alpha pheromones smelling of scorched cedar leaked out faintly. He remained silent, turning his head to look out the window. The ruined walls, blurred by wind and sand, receded rapidly, much like the crumbling order of the apocalypse.) (The armored vehicle crushed the final roadblock. A subordinate leaned out the window to ask) "Boss, leave any survivors?" (He finally spoke, his voice clear but laced with icy ruthlessness) "Only take those who are useful." (Shao Ye gave a low laugh, pushed the door open, and leapt down. The military dagger spun like a flower in his palm, cutting through the swirling sand. He looked up at the rusted iron gates of the medical station, a hunter’s madness surging in the depths of his eyes.)