Chapter 6

"Open your backpack and let me see it." Linke wouldn't let any detail slip; only after a thorough inspection could he lower his guard.

Forbes didn't dare hesitate for a moment, hurriedly unstrapped his backpack, opened the zipper, and dumped everything out.

Canned food, water, compressed biscuits, tissues, and a piece of cooked beef wrapped in cling film, about the size of a bowling ball.

Just as Linke was captivated by these 'hard currencies'...

Clang!

A shiny kitchen knife fell out of the bag, making a clear and long sound.

Forbes forced a smile that almost blinded Linke and said, "I'm a cook, really! This knife is for cutting beef!"

Linke said nothing, watching Forbes perform.

"Alright, I admit, it also has a self-defense function."

Linke pointed his gun at Forbes and issued another command, "Get up, lift your shirt, and turn around."

Forbes's face was full of terror, his eyes wide as copper bells, the whites of his eyes standing out against his dark skin, making his eyes look incredibly exaggerated and super large.

Forbes covered his buttocks with both hands, his pupils flickering, and he was drenched in sweat.

He had heard about such things in the camp. After all, the desert was remote, and the camp was filled with slaves and mercenaries...

Forbes bit his lip and assessed the current risk.

The other party had a gun; if he fired, Forbes would be dead.

...It would just be a bit of blood and pain, which he could endure.

He had gone through great lengths and risked being killed by mercenaries to escape, not to die in such a place!

To survive, I'll endure!

"Hurry up, don't dawdle!" Linke shook the black gun in his hand, the threat clear.

Forbes took a deep breath, his hands trembling as he gripped the linen shirt.

Forbes lifted his linen shirt, turned around with his back to Linke, gritted his teeth, and closed his eyes tightly.

Linke: Black man question face.jpg.

...

Wasteland Gang Headquarters.

The operator's signal was cut off.

The last words shouted by the slave shattered his understanding of the situation.

He reported the satellite phone video, audio content, and the situation to the responsible leader.

The responsible leader hurriedly reported with the materials.

"General, the latest news from the front! Our last soldier has also fallen! Here is the last video and audio recorded by the satellite phone."

As the video and audio played, the tent was silent.

"We can call back the rescue helicopter."

Everyone is dead; sending a helicopter would be pointless, and there might be an ambush by the Mechanic Cult.

"Has the identity been confirmed?"

"Confirmed. This person was captured by the 52nd Camp soldiers from a desert caravan last year, then mixed into the slave camp to participate in the ancient ruins excavation project. The timing is indeed suspicious."

"Then it's likely a spy planted by the Mechanic Cult. The destruction of the ancient ruins might also be related to this person."

Bang!

The general slammed his fist on the table, furious.

This ancient ruins excavation project was one he had pushed through the Wasteland Council, spending a large sum of money to secure.

Now, the money was spent, and the manpower and resources were invested, but a sudden sandstorm had destroyed everything.

All for nothing!

The general rubbed his temples, his brows furrowed. "Send experts to investigate the ancient ruins site. How could quicksand appear out of nowhere under the ruins!"

"Also, only the Mechanic Cult spy knows the inside story. Distribute his photo widely. I don't care if you find bounty hunters or assassins; I just want results—bring him back to me, I need to know the truth! I don't believe he will stay in the Mechanic Cult's territory forever!"

The order was issued from the Wasteland Gang headquarters, and the accident investigation team set out for the sunken ancient ruins.

No one could have predicted that this investigation would become the catalyst for a major shift in the power dynamics of the various factions.

——

Linke looked at Forbes's large buttocks with a complex expression.

His subconscious told him that this fat man was extremely dangerous!

A person who could stick out his buttocks at any time was definitely a tough guy.

The treasure rat standing beside him extended its small paws to cover its eyes, but the gaps between the paws were large, and it stared intently. It looked at Forbes, then at its owner Linke, its small eyes filled with great confusion.

"What's in your head? You can put your shirt down now!"

Linke's gaze moved from Forbes's black buttocks, and his eyes were slightly moist.

It was too much to handle.

Forbes trembled all over, his face as if he had seen a ghost.

Was he not good enough?

Was he of no value?

Was he going to be shot?

Forbes dejectedly put down his linen shirt, two clear tears streaming down his dark cheeks in the sunlight.

He turned around and fell to his knees, crying, "Please, let me live! I'll do anything, even work like a horse!"

Linke put the safety on his gun and holstered it, slowly walking to Forbes's side. "I'm a slave too, no need to kill you. What are your plans next?"

Forbes looked up at Linke in surprise, his eyes revealing only one word—disbelief.

The mercenaries were all strong men, while the slave in front of him was thin and weak, easily blown over by the wind.

How could he defeat the mercenaries and escape?

Forbes had run out of the jeep's trunk and heard the gunfire inside the green wall maze. To him, this person must be a mercenary or someone with a special identity in the Wasteland Gang, disguised as a slave to extract information from him.

Linke exhaled a deep breath, feeling somewhat helpless.

To be honest, he had his eye on Forbes's backpack of food.

If he were an enemy, he would have shot him without hesitation to take the treasure, with no psychological pressure.

But this timid fat man was also a suffering slave, and he had escaped the quicksand by luck. Linke couldn't bear to take his supplies and leave him here alone.

Moreover, they had just escaped the dragon's den, and the tiger's lair of the Mechanic Cult was still ahead. Having one more person would be a help.

"Follow me!"

Linke barked, leading the way.

Forbes knelt on the ground, unresponsive. The treasure rat ran behind him, trying to push the fat man's mountain-like body with all its might, but to no avail.

The treasure rat's cheeks puffed up in anger, climbed up to Forbes's collar, and started scratching his neck.

Feeling the sharp claws on his skin, Forbes shivered, his goosebumps falling to the ground, and he ran off.

The treasure rat, like a knight, was trying to tame a wild black pig, controlling Forbes's direction by pulling on his collar.

"Take him to the maze and wait for me."

The treasure rat rode on Forbes, running to the maze ahead of Linke. Because of its large size, it couldn't turn well and crashed into the green wall, fainting.

The treasure rat leaped from Forbes's body, spinning in the air, and landed steadily on the ground.

Forbes slowly regained consciousness, his vision still blurry, but the scene he saw instantly woke him up, his body drenched in cold sweat. He saw Linke cutting something with a dagger, and next to him were two bodies drenched in blood.

Forbes immediately crouched in the corner, terrified, already imagining his fate.

"Are you awake?"

Linke threw a pair of military boots at Forbes.

Forbes, scared, dodged, then rubbed his eyes to see that it was a pair of military boots.

The boots had been modified, with the front closed part cut off, turning them into open-toed sandals.

Looking at the two bodies on the ground, they were clearly mercenaries, one with a green T-shirt soaked in blood, the other bare-chested with visible bullet holes.

"Try them on and see if they fit."

Forbes's mind was in chaos, completely unable to understand the situation, and could only be manipulated like a puppet.

'Forced' to put on the military boots, his toes were exposed.

Emmm, how to say it, the boots were cut a bit too much, exposing his toes, but otherwise, they were fine.

"Raise your feet for me to see."

Forbes immediately lifted his feet, not daring to be the slightest bit slow.

Linke looked for a while, muttering to himself, "It seems I cut a bit too much, I know!"

He then started cutting a pair of intact military boots.

These boots belonged to the mercenaries, with large sizes, and Linke had to drag them to walk, which was very inconvenient.

They were about to cross the Gobi Desert controlled by the Mechanic Cult, and walking barefoot would soon result in bloody feet.

The Gobi was full of hard ground and gravel, unlike the desert where one could walk barefoot.

Linke, while cutting, said, "I am indeed a slave, but I killed them and escaped. The ancient ruins were buried by quicksand, and the Wasteland Gang will not let this go. Staying in the desert is no different from seeking death."

"The Gobi is the territory of the Mechanic Cult, an even more terrifying existence than the Wasteland Gang."

Linke looked at Forbes and said, "They love people like you, with rough skin and a lot of fat, to use as human batteries, a fate worse than death."

Forbes shivered, crossing his arms over his chest.

The Mechanic Cult's use of live humans as energy batteries was well-known in the desert, enough to stop a child's crying.

"I'm preparing to cross the Gobi and escape to the free federation's Sand City in the north. What are your plans?"

Forbes's mind was a mess. He had only thought about escaping the slave camp, with no plan for what to do after.

"I... I..."

He couldn't come up with anything.

Linke finished cutting the boots, tried them on, and found that his toes fit perfectly, just right!

Linke then took off a mercenary's pants, measured, and cut them to a suitable length, changing into camouflage pants and open-toed military boots in a few minutes.

It had to be said, wearing pants and shoes made one feel much more secure.

Forbes was stunned for a while before timidly asking, "Can we cross the Gobi and safely reach the free federation?"

Linke didn't say much, stood up, lifted his linen shirt, revealing a submachine gun, a pistol, and two magazines on his gun belt, and a dagger in his hand.

The treasure rat stood on Linke's shoulder, its small paws crossed over its chest, tilting its head at a 45-degree angle, in a classic superhero pose.

"Alright, I'm in!"

A moment later...

"Boss Linke, thank you for making shoes for me."

"You should thank me. If I hadn't tested them on you, how could I have made such well-fitting boots?"

P.S: New week, please give me recommendations!