Petrol Town, bustling with people, in front of the electronic screens, very few people stop to watch anymore.
Why not, the hunting war has reached a stage where it has shifted from mechanical hunters hunting beasts to both sides hunting each other.
Even in Petrol Town, over ten mechanical hunters have unexpectedly died, all ambushed by Radiation Beasts.
Radiation Beasts donāt play by the rules; they wonāt fight you fair and square. In fact, nighttime is when Radiation Beasts are active.
In the scavenger gathering places, even more people have died, so much that itās unbearable to look at.
In fact, not many people care about the rankings now, because the premise of caring about āgossipā was that mechanical hunters would surely win, but from the current situation, no one dares to guarantee victory anymore.
Panic is the best portrayal of Oasis now.
As the sun sets, three figures stand in front of the electronic screen: one fat, one thin, and one neither fat nor thin.
The one in the middle looks pale, seemingly in bad shape.
"So many unfamiliar faces."
The leaderboard has undergone dramatic changes.
The first place is the Symbiotic Squad, a hunting team previously unheard of, yet unbelievably powerful.
Rumored to be equipped entirely with energy weapons, their high-power armor canāt even be torn apart by the claws of a C-Level Radiation Beast.
The second place holds another unexpected nameāthe Crawlers.
The one on the right, a half-mechanical man with exposed wiring, stood dumbfounded for a moment before incredulously asking:
"The Crawlers, werenāt they wiped out?"
The giant fatty on the left scratched his head.
"Do they respawn, Brother Gao?"
"Who knows."
The one in the middle shrugged.
The changes in Petrol Town are so significant that itās unrecognizable.
Various fortresses, thick city walls, patrolling drones, and those black machine gun barrels on the watchtowers.
Is this the preparation for a beast tide siege?
On the leaderboard, besides the first-placed Symbiotic Squad, the āresurrectedā Crawlers, and the third-ranked Miyamoto Sanzang.
All others are new faces.
The veteran teams are ācompletely wiped out.ā
Even the newcomers who rose quickly, such as the Plunderer Squad, Biochemical Demons, Hound Hunters, and Bombers, have all vanished without a trace.
As the new waves of the Yangtze River push forward the old, have the new waves now perished as well?
"Letās go, pick up your mom, and weāll come back to find the boss later."
The thin one patted the fatty, and the two sat back in the armored vehicle. With a mighty engine roar, the vehicle roared away.
The one in the middle lit a cigarette and leisurely walked into Petrol Town.
Soon, news of a certain personās return started spreading.
"The Lone Wolf is back?"
"Lone Wolf, that new assassin master? Wasnāt he rumored to have been assassinated by Miyamoto Sanzang?"
"I heard he died on the front line."
"Just like Gray-Eyed Adrian?"
"With so many experts dead, one more or less makes no difference."
The Black Petrol Bar remained lively, but it was all new faces; even the āold facesā from ten days ago were hardly seen.
A generation of newcomers replaces the old; no profession compares to the high elimination rate of mechanical hunters.
"Heās just a deserter. I remember he ran off ten days ago."
Some āold faceā suddenly said.
"Oh? Whatās the story, old man, tell us."
The āold faceā took satisfaction in accepting the cigarette offered by a newcomer, even though he had only been in Automobile City for a month, his credentials were already quite senior.
"He, too, was a seasoned hunter, somewhat capable, but heās an old fox, fleeing faster than anyone at the sign of trouble. About ten days ago, he just disappeared, truly cunning."
"How did he escape?"
"What connections did he have?"
Initially, only a few were listening, but upon hearing āescape,ā a bunch of people gathered around.
It was clear they were quite interested in the topic of āescape.ā
The āold faceā enjoyed the center of attention; in his impression, this was the treatment only true veterans received.
"Donāt even think about it; that was early in the war, when the Security Corps wasnāt as strict. Now, who dares to escape? Theyād be the first to be shot by those robots with black guns."
He waved his wrist with the ābattlefield recorder.ā
"See, the latest model āhandcuffs,ā non-removable, satellite positioning, drone tracking, no way to escape!"
A chorus of disappointed sighs erupted.
Someone grumbled, "At this rate, how are we different from corporate guinea pigs."
"Guinea pigs? They have surveillance chips implanted, their lives are much more valuable than ours."
The crowd sighed and expressed strong regret for being unable to escape.
Noticing the topic shifting, the āold faceā got a bit anxious.
"Cough cough, back to the point. Actually, that Lone Wolfās last name is Gao, I know him. Heās always been the spineless, two-faced type. Being a deserter is nothing unusual for him. Did you know he used to work as a gigolo to make money before he became famous? Not only could women pay to sleep with him, but men could too. Could someone like him have any integrity?"
Seeing everyone staring blankly at him, the āold faceā exaggerated even more.
"That guy used to be on a squad with me. Saying we teamed up is a stretch; he was actually my underling. Back then, he didnāt have the fame he has now, just a very humbleā"
The āold faceāsā neck suddenly tightened.
It turned out that, unbeknownst to him, a giant figure from the corner had stood up and grabbed his neck with a thigh-thick metal arm, lifting him off the ground.