Chapter Thirty-Two: The Furious Race Begins!

Raw Meat Town. The roar of engines rose and fell, tearing through the tranquil morning, heralding the beginning of the Last Road Carnival Race.

Hundreds of uniquely designed war vehicles were making their final preparations. The staff from the Remnants Repair Shop had moved in, offering what little convenience they could to the racers, carrying out last-minute checks.

Zheng Southern had hoped for a lazy morning, but the deafening thunder of engines grew ever louder, making sleep impossible. Regretfully, he awoke from his tender dreams and forced himself to check the condition of his vehicle.

Viper and Redbird were parked side by side; last night, the two had already prepared everything—full tanks, components all in order. Their only worry was sabotage from other competitors, but after a thorough inspection, it proved unfounded.

He opened Viper’s door and was startled by a pale, naked leg stretching out. Peering inside, he saw Hu Bi and an unfamiliar woman lying together, naked beneath a pile of clothes, snoring in harmony.

“Time to get up!” Zheng Southern sounded the horn. The pair sprang up, heads bumping into the roof.

“What’s wrong with you?” Hu Bi grumbled, rubbing his head, still cranky from being woken. “What’s with the early-morning madness?”

“You’ve got some nerve.” Zheng Southern shook his head, tossing a thong from the gearstick to the woman. “Why mess around in my car? Tang Garlic just cleaned it yesterday.”

“Redbird’s too small, can’t stretch out.” Hu Bi smacked his lips, picking at his eyes, not bothering to dress. He lit a cigarette, squeezed the woman beside him, gave Zheng Southern a wink, and said, “You do your thing, I’m starting my morning workout.”

Zheng Southern rolled his eyes, closed the door, and headed to the Deep Well Restaurant for some food and drink.

When he returned, Viper was still shaking violently, the two bodies inside lost in their storm of passion, unconcerned with the crowd passing by. Of course, the crowd paid them no mind either—compared to some, Hu Bi was rather reserved, choosing to do the deed in a covered car. There were plenty who conducted their business in broad daylight, right in front of everyone.

Inside the inn, Tang Garlic and Shu Onion had also awakened, embracing and kissing, pale legs entwined, sharing the pleasures of intimacy.

Zheng Southern was speechless. What was with everyone? Why so spirited this early in the morning?

“Boss… come here…” Shu Onion’s eyes sparkled, her voice sweet and coy.

“You two have fun. I’m going to eat with Sha Man. When you’re done, eat on your own.” Zheng Southern shook his head, left the food on the oil drum table, and took the remaining portions to Sha Man.

Sha Man was already awake, sitting on the bed hugging her knees, staring out the window in a daze.

“Hungry?” Zheng Southern pushed open the door, waving the food.

Sha Man beamed, nodding vigorously.

“Get dressed and come down to eat.”

...

The sun rose higher, the heat intensifying, even the wind carried a burning scent.

The race committee’s loudspeakers began to repeat their announcements, urging racers to receive their injections.

Though called a committee, it seemed there wasn’t much real business to be done. Uniformed security guards only stationed themselves at the town entrance, seemingly too lazy to patrol during the day.

The injection site was a requisitioned factory, where many racers had already received their shots, paying no mind to the deadly virus.

Zheng Southern and his group arrived around noon. There weren’t many people inside, just a handful of staff in biohazard suits busy with their tasks.

The so-called virus injection was rather perfunctory: mass-packaged syringes, one per person, filled with a clear liquid.

Rip open the package, jab it into the neck, push the plunger—done.

“What kind of virus is this?” Zheng Southern asked curiously.

The staff in biohazard suits glanced at him, ignored the question, and continued injecting the next person.

Zheng Southern, rebuffed, pursed his lips and led Tang Garlic and the others away.

“I don’t feel anything,” Tang Garlic touched the injection site, half-smiling. “So now our lives begin the countdown?”

“Yes.” Zheng Southern nodded, shading his eyes with his hand, gazing into the distance. All he saw were people and vehicles—some sleek sports cars, others monstrous, haphazardly modified, bristling with aggression. One steel behemoth, truck-like and reminiscent of Hu Bi’s old pickup, even had a machine gun mounted on the roof.

“We don’t seem to have any weapons left.” Zheng Southern frowned, thinking. “Are there places along the way where we can get weapons? This road race won’t be peaceful.”

“The Orange Hall is for weapon deals,” Sha Man supplied a name. “When we first met, that man planned to trade me for weapons at the Orange Hall.”

Zheng Southern felt troubled. If only they’d taken the deep blue hospital’s supply truck before leaving the fishery. Now, the five of them were broke. Even if there were trading posts on the route, they had nothing to barter with.

Tang Garlic scanned the area, sidled up to Zheng Southern, and whispered, “Strike first. Mark a few weak targets—once we’re on the road…”

Zheng Southern sighed. “Looks like that’s our only option.”

Just then, Hu Bi emerged, rubbing his neck as he joined them. “What are you whispering about?”

“Picking fat sheep,” Zheng Southern said, eyeing a nearby pair of racers.

A man and a woman, unusually normal in appearance, both dressed professionally, more like office workers than eccentric criminals. The man was a bit older; the woman, younger, with a plump backside.

They drove a business van, the windows covered with paper. Through the gaps, it looked like there was a pile of stuff inside.

“They’re racing too?” Zheng Southern was surprised. They seemed like ordinary spouses, totally out of place in this bizarre road race.

Hu Bi sniffed, eyes fixed on the woman’s rear, muttering, “Never judge a book by its cover. Anyone who got an invitation here isn’t innocent.”

“What about that one?” Shu Onion pointed to their left. “Looks pretty dumb.”

They turned to look—a tall, skinny man with a retro style: floral shirt, bell-bottoms, leather shoes, a glittering gold chain around his neck, chest hair blowing in the wind, sunglasses covering his face, leaning against his car making lewd gestures at a female racer.

“He looks even poorer than us,” Sha Man wrinkled her nose, whispering, “Look at his car—it’s nearly scrap.”

“Easy pickings are always broke,” Tang Garlic spread his hands, frustrated. “The rich ones are hard to deal with.”

“Forget it, we’ll improvise on the road.”

“Yeah.” They all nodded.

...

Daylight in sandstorm season was short. They felt as though they’d done nothing, and already most of the day had slipped by. Dusk fell quickly.

The race would begin at midnight. As the hour approached, the gathered racers grew restless.

Hundreds of cars, no unified starting line, and most racers were clueless about the route.

The committee distributed route cards to all competitors, showing only the names of checkpoints and general directions—no detailed maps or navigation.

“What are these places?” Zheng Southern pointed to a name called “Catgirl Pavilion,” puzzled. “Do you know it?”

“Nope.” Tang Garlic shook his head, equally lost.

“It’s a good place,” Hu Bi chimed in, excited. “A brothel—they call it the ‘bang house.’ Hu wants to go.”

“Take it easy, don’t get caught off guard,” Sha Man warned, glaring at him. “I’ve heard there are cannibals in the wasteland, luring big oafs like you in to butcher them.”

“Hahaha, want to eat Hu? They’d have to have the teeth for it.” Hu Bi dismissed the rumors.

Zheng Southern remembered something and asked, “Did you know that woman from this morning?”

“Nope,” Hu Bi replied, puzzled. “Why, you planning to rob her? She seemed part of a group, not too well-off.”

“No, I saw a tattoo on her chest—looked familiar. I swear I’ve seen it before, but can’t remember where. Just be careful, her crew’s dangerous.”

“Tattoo?” Hu Bi’s eyes shifted. “Didn’t notice, was too busy screwing her.”

...

Midnight arrived in a flash, and Raw Meat Town finally welcomed the frenzy. The whole town was ablaze with lights, the crowd’s excitement peaking.

Explosive drumbeats, roaring engines, flames rising everywhere—all heralded the coming bloodbath.

The uniformed guards at the exit cleared the barricades, opening a wide five-car lane. Bonfires marked two fiery lines. A fat man dressed like a firebird appeared at the starting line, waving a flag. Spotlights from armored cars focused on him, and the loudspeaker system was switched on.

“Hey, hey, hey!” The firebird fat man waved the microphone, testing the sound. His clumsy voice echoed across Raw Meat Town.

“Racers, are you ready?” The fat man beamed, like an old-fashioned emcee, patting the microphone, pointing to the bonfire-lit lines. “The Last Road Carnival Race is about to begin! Are you excited?”

His only answer was a tidal wave of horns and chaotic, angry curses.

The wild racers ridiculed his style, seeing him as an idiot.

Zheng Southern and Hu Bi got into their cars; Tang Garlic and the three women climbed into Viper. Hu Bi tried to coax Sha Man to join him, but she gave him a sharp glare.

“So boring, all by myself,” Hu Bi lamented.

Sha Man stuck out her tongue, teasing, “Drive carefully on your own.”

“Come keep me company,” Hu Bi pleaded.

“No way. I’m afraid you’ll assault me.” Sha Man flipped him off, licking her tongue suggestively. “If you reach the checkpoint first, I’ll join you for the next stage—including overnight.”

“Deal!” Hu Bi laughed, honking wildly.

The fat emcee repeated the race rules, awkwardly hyping the crowd, checked the armored car’s wheel display, climbed onto the roof, aimed the machine gun skyward, and began the final countdown.

“Last Road Carnival!”

“Three!”

“Two!”

...

“The race begins!”