Chapter 32: Going South to Reach North

The next day, Lu Yuan wasn't quite pitiful enough to be forced to run behind the vehicle until he dropped, but his current situation left him wondering if running until he collapsed might have been better than his current predicament of slowly baking alive.

Gao Jiu's so-called "no hardship" treatment consisted of tying Lu Yuan to the flagpole at the back of the war chariot, where heaps of salted snake meat lay stacked beside him. Lu Yuan had witnessed the gruesome way these cursed natives prepared their snake meat. First, the chief's guards would carefully cover it in coarse salt as if it were a treasure, then smear on a layer of thick yellow paste. The blood-tinged meat and the sun-baked sauce combined into a powerful, nauseating stench. To make matters worse, Lu Yuan was tied to the flagpole at the rear, where the reek was constantly whipped into his face by the wind. Even if he held his breath, he felt like he was suffocating.

Thankfully, the stench wasn't so strong that it made his eyes water, allowing Lu Yuan to observe the various types of vehicles and the formation of the Scorpion Slaver Squad's convoy.

The Scorpion Slaver Squad had four types of vehicles. The highlight was a modified chariot equipped with a tow truck pulling a rectangular container clad in jagged armor. Lu Yuan guessed it was a cargo container. The entire vehicle was around 16 to 18 meters long, and with the circular fuel tank attached to the back, it easily exceeded 20 meters. The front bumper featured three slender spikes: one aligned with the engine for frontal impact and another angled to clear obstacles and debris. The wheels and axles were reinforced with inward-facing spikes, clearly intended to pierce enemy tires on contact.

The chariot's exhaust pipes extended upwards in an inverted "L" shape, welded to the driver's side door, and the intake was a conspicuously large bump on the rear hood. The windows were shielded by steel plates nearly half a finger thick, leaving only small observation slits for the driver to see or shoot through. The armor plating covering the container was similarly fitted with firing ports and sliding covers. Both the front and rear ends of the container had makeshift turrets, though unlike Lu Yuan's all-terrain vehicle with its proper transparent rotating turret, these were simply half-cut Beetle car shells outfitted with rusted machine guns manned by "Gunner Boys," as the natives called them.

The rear bumper had a spike trap panel; last time, it was this very trap that almost punctured Lu Yuan's all-terrain tires. The back was visibly equipped with grappling hooks, grenade launchers, and oil slick dispensers, all hidden behind a wedge-shaped, dented steel plate.

Another war chariot, similar to Gao Jiu's, bore the leader's flag and was nearly identical except for the addition of a crane in the middle. Last night, they'd used it to hoist a scouting motorbike back into formation after it returned from patrol.

These two chariots were undoubtedly the main force, massive steel beasts that couldn't move too fast. Lu Yuan estimated they were going at around 20 miles per hour. Yet, with only two of the exhaust pipes emitting smoke, the purpose of the remaining four was anyone's guess.

Each chariot was escorted by armored trucks on either side. Lu Yuan had fought fiercely inside one of these trucks the day before. The truck's interior wasn't particularly remarkable—essentially a small container—but connected to the driver's cabin by a door. Like the chariots, it had firing ports on both sides, and narrow, coffin-sized boxes lined the walls. Above these boxes hung hammocks, while water filtration buckets and a cooking station were fastened to the truck walls. Lu Yuan had fended off six men inside, but judging by the space, it could easily hold ten. Hygiene wasn't a concern for the natives.

Private property, however, was taken very seriously. If anyone dared touch another's possessions, a fight would ensue until one person was on their knees, begging for mercy.

The moment Lu Yuan spotted the spiked off-road vehicle, he was intrigued by its combat-ready design. The long, narrow off-roader had rear tires larger than the front ones, covered in anti-skid treads. There was almost no terrain that could stop it. Lu Yuan had seen them crest steep hills and sand dunes without hesitation. The rear-seat gunner had to chain himself to the vehicle, though these maniacs often didn't bother, simply clutching the handlebar. Their favorite pastime was to see who could last longest during rough rides, not getting thrown off—a version of rodeo, but with cars.

The scouting bikes were mostly dune bikes, narrow and elongated, with handgrips between the front and rear seats, and four long bomb poles mounted alongside the exhaust pipes. They used these to wound armored sand serpents during hunts. Below the exhaust pipe, there were two round canisters that Lu Yuan suspected were nitrous oxide tanks. Occasionally, he would see a bike spit blue flames as it shot to the front of the convoy, hitting speeds of at least 100 miles per hour.

The convoy formation was relatively straightforward. The trucks guarded the slow-moving chariots at the center, while the off-road vehicles scattered in front and behind, covering the flanks and prepared to intercept at any moment. Most of the scouting bikes clung to the sides of the trucks, with a few sent ahead as scouts, ready to rally when the fight began.

Lu Yuan didn't watch for long before the blazing desert sun felt like it would scorch him alive. The burning thirst, combined with the tight iron chains rubbing against his wrists and ankles, gnawed at his nerves, along with the ever-present stench of snake meat. How could these natives have such a stomach for something so vile? Raw meat would be better than this foul, pickled horror!

Whenever Lu Yuan drifted towards sleep, he would snap awake from thirst or pain. Even when the convoy paused in the shade of a hillside to rest, he remained tied to the flagpole, fully exposed to the sun. With his eyes tightly shut, he still felt like he might go blind. The relentless hunger and thirst had drained him of strength; even if he wanted to struggle, he was far too exhausted. A day of this treatment would drain even the toughest man.

As night finally fell, Lu Yuan was on the verge of blacking out when the clanging footsteps on the iron roof jolted him awake. Bloodshot eyes opened to see natives casually hauling a bucket of snake meat and roasting it over a campfire without even flinching from the stench.

Lu Yuan no longer had the energy to curse. His thirst was so overwhelming that he looked at the natives with wild eyes as they unscrewed their water bottles, some even taunting him by drinking in front of him with exaggerated gulps.

It wasn't until midnight that Gao Jiu came over and gave Lu Yuan half a canteen of water. Lu Yuan stared daggers at the native who had him at his mercy and whispered, "This is your guarantee?"

"A guarantee that you'll live," Gao Jiu shrugged, pointing at the chain dragging behind the vehicle. "Tying you to the flagpole is a courtesy. Don't believe me? Ask the others."

Lu Yuan glanced around the terrain and said, "You're heading back."

Gao Jiu was unsurprised. He shoved a piece of tough, dried meat into Lu Yuan's mouth and replied as he turned away, "No one dares go deep into the Burning Ash Desert—not even my boys, fearless as they are."

"Unless," Lu Yuan muttered, "it leads straight to heaven."