The Decaying Dream of America: I Assemble Corpses and Confront Madness

The air around the wreckage of the modified all-terrain vehicle became thick and murky.

The stench of blood, the burnt metallic smell, and Evelyn's suppressed sobs mingled together, forming a sticky film that tightly enveloped Lin Zheng. The dim light inside the carriage, tinged with an eerie orange-red by the firelight outside, reflected off the twisted metal and mottled bloodstains, creating an apocalyptic scene.

He felt a dull ache in his back from the impact, like a smoldering fire slowly burning deep within his internal organs. Each jolt felt like countless fine needles scraping against the depths of his spine. His ribs seemed to be affected as well, sharp pains shooting through him with each breath, forcing him to breathe shallowly.

His vision was blurred, and the lingering hum from the depths of the mine continued to echo in his ears, mingling with the frenzied roars of tribal warriors outside the car window. Each shout trembled against his nearly collapsing sanity. Their cries were like some primal, untamed beast tearing through the night sky, accompanied by the dull thuds of rough weapons striking the vehicle, each blow causing his eardrums to ache and his heartstrings to tighten.

This was beyond the normal range of sensory endurance; he was practically struggling in a distorted, gray expanse. Deep within his brain, warning signals of 'rationality depletion' flashed wildly, each thought feeling like it was exhausting the last bit of fuel, leaving only emptiness and coldness. He could feel his consciousness being pulled by an invisible force, as if he were about to be swept into a bottomless vortex at any moment.

A brief "deconstruction of reality" was forcibly triggered by the shock. Fragmented light and shadow flickered before his eyes, like the static on an old television set, or like thousands of sharp thorns piercing his brain at the same time. The world he perceived was no longer linear and logical, but composed of fragmented images and surging emotions, disordered and chaotic.

He shook his head violently, trying to dispel the illusion, but the unspeakable, primal malice from the depths of the wasteland did not dissipate; it transformed into a fine electric net, constantly crawling beneath his skin. He could feel a will seemingly from the ancient wilderness, heavy, chaotic, and aggressively hungry, seeping in through his shattered senses, trying to take over every cell of his body. It was a pure, uncorrupted fear, rooted deep in his blood.

A primal and wild image flashed across the edge of his consciousness: on ancient rock paintings, blood-red marks writhed like living creatures, crimson flames illuminated naked bodies, dancing wildly to a low, eerie drumbeat. The air was thick with the stench of animal blood and the smoke of rituals; distorted figures stretched and shifted in the firelight, revealing a chilling, primal worship. He could even 'hear' the primitive syllables uttered by the fanatics, like incantations coiling around his eardrums.

A vague name, imbued with intense reverence and fear, was repeatedly whispered by the tribal warriors: the Great Lord of Persia. The name echoed in his consciousness, bringing an ominous heaviness. He sensed within it the will to expel and sacrifice, like a cold wave crashing against the lake of his heart. This was not a simple robbery or revenge, but a far grander, more terrifying sacrificial act, and they were clearly the "sacrifices" in this ritual.

They weren't just simple bandits; they were a group of fanatical believers driven by some primal faith, an extension of the twisted will of that wasteland. Lin Zheng's heart pounded violently in his chest, as if trying to break free of its restraints. This realization sent a chill down his spine more deeply than the chaotic battle unfolding before him. The bandits might still be negotiable, but the fanatical believers, who only believed in blood and sacrifice, were insane and illogical, making them far more dangerous and incomprehensible.

Lina's "modified weapon" flashed briefly again, striking a clump of sand writhing outside the car window. The sand's writhing motion was twisted and bizarre, like a life form composed of broken sand and dried blood. Its surface shimmered with an unnatural crimson glow, as if some evil force pulsated within. At the moment of impact, the sand's surface briefly dented, then rippled outwards like water.

The sand and gravel briefly dispersed, then coalesced again a short distance away, its twisted body shimmering with a scarlet glow, its empty eye sockets radiating an unconscious aggression. Its movements were silent, yet carried an indescribable, viscous quality, like filth crawling from the depths of a dream. No matter how many bullets pierced it, it could instantly return to its original state, even becoming more solid and menacing.

"It's no use. The bullets go right through, and it closes up again." Lina's voice was filled with frustration, like punching cotton. That sense of powerlessness made her extremely angry. She fired several more times, and the bullets all pierced through the bodies of the sand and gravel-like 'Gobi Raiders,' which resembled jackals, but failed to leave any permanent damage. Instead, it seemed to enrage them, making them even more frantically ram the vehicle, their claws leaving a harsh scraping sound on the metal.

These were the "Gobi Raiders" she had personally identified, nightmare creations from the depths of the wasteland. Physical weapons were largely ineffective against them; they were essentially formless, merely materialized through sand and gravel. This realization filled Lina with a profound sense of despair, because her most proficient firearms were completely ineffective against them.

The blurry totem from his lingering dream surfaced in Lin Zheng's mind. Its lines were rough and primal, resembling a distorted face, vaguely overlapping with the eerie sand and stone formations outside the car. It seemed more than just a creature; it was a manifestation of something imbued with evil intent. He began to understand that these strange creatures did not exist randomly; they were a direct manifestation of the power of the 'Great Lord of Percy,' part of the deep-seated laws of this wasteland.

Could this wasteland itself be a living dream? A dream untamed by civilization, purely shaped by faith and instinct? A vast illusion woven from twisted desires and primal fears? This thought sent chills down Lin Zheng's spine. If so, then their very existence was an invasion of this dream, and these 'Gobi Raiders' were the dream's immune system, attempting to completely eliminate them.

He recalled the fragments of information he'd gleaned about the Ochre Labyrinth State. The federal government kept its distance from this land, and the corporate pursuers halted beyond its borders, seemingly not because of the technology here, but because of this untamed, unpredictable primal force. The corporate order and the logic of technology had completely collapsed here, rendering any effective dominance impossible. This land belonged not to any civilization, but only to its own ancient and twisted laws.

This fanatical and primal faith was more frightening than any technological weapon he had ever seen. It represented a chaos that refused to be deconstructed by modern logic, a "blind spot" that could not be covered by corporate narratives. Here, data and algorithms lost their meaning; only flesh and soul were the true currency, used to sacrifice to the "gods" lurking deep in the wasteland.

Thoughts surged like a tide, gradually pulling Lin Zheng back to reality. He realized he was teetering on the edge of mental exhaustion; this unrestrained "deconstruction of reality" and excessive thinking was accelerating the collapse of his sanity. Nevertheless, those vague premonitions and subconscious images still lingered in his mind, like an impenetrable fog, foreshadowing an even greater crisis.

The acrid smell of smoke inside the car grew stronger, irritating his throat and causing a dry, painful ache. He heard Arthur's every breath as if it were tearing fabric, the sound carrying a heart-wrenching sense of fragmentation, as if his lungs were undergoing further damage with each effort to expand. This sound pierced through the inappropriate speculations in his mind, refocusing him on the desperate situation before him. Arthur's life hung by a thread; he couldn't fall here.

The weakness brought on by the depletion of his sanity made him have to force himself to inhale the thin, fishy-smelling air with each breath. The exhaustion in his body made his limbs stiff, as if they were filled with lead. He could feel every muscle trembling, his vision was as if covered by a layer of oil, the world in front of him was shaking violently, and even his ears were ringing.

He struggled to lift his heavy eyelids, trying to see the battle ahead more clearly. Outside the car window, the shadows of the tribal warriors flickered like ghosts, and sparks from clashing weapons tore through the silence of the night. The vehicle was suffering devastating damage; every inch of metal groaned in agony, as if it might crumble at any moment.

Jeremy, with a ruthless, almost reckless determination, braced himself against the car door. His face was covered in dust and blood, but his eyes remained resolute, as if he wanted to burn himself out. He pressed his back against the car, turning himself into a wall of flesh and blood. With each attack he blocked, his muscular body trembled slightly, and sweat mixed with dirt streamed down his face.

He brandished the spare tire wrench he'd pried from the car, along with several twisted pieces of the vehicle, like a cornered beast. The wrench flashed through the air, each swing accompanied by an angry growl. The metal clashed with the rough stone and bone blades in the tribal warrior's hands, producing a harsh scraping sound and a dull thud, sparks flying and illuminating his狰狞 (zhengning - ferocious/hideous) face.

Jeremy remained as imposing as an iron tower, refusing to yield an inch. However, his heavy breathing indicated the immense pressure he was under, his strength rapidly dwindling. His muscles were at their limit, each block feeling like a drain on his remaining life force. Despite this, he stubbornly held the breach, preventing any enemy from stepping into the carriage.

Buck Stoneaxe's heavy homemade flail whistled through the air like a viper's tongue, each strike landing precisely on the wreckage Jeremy had propped up, sending sparks flying and debris scattering. The flail's heavy impacts made the entire vehicle tremble, each landing feeling like a hammer blow to Lin Zheng's heart.

The dull thud reached Lin Zheng's eardrums, each impact sending a shiver through him, as if his own bones were being struck. He could clearly feel the shockwave transmitted through the metal with each of Jeremy's parries. The veins on Jeremy's wrists bulged, each counterattack laced with resolute ruthlessness.

Buck Stoneaxe's eyes burned with a beastly madness and ferocity. His tattooed body was arched like a full moon, surging with power and violence. Every swing of his sword carried the force of a whirlwind, as if he wanted to smash Jeremy and the wrecked car to dust. His skin was rough and tough, covered with crisscrossing scars, and every tremor of his muscles revealed his wild vitality.

Lin Zheng's mental exhaustion caused everything before his eyes to be shrouded in a blurry fog, but thanks to the passive perception of 'Dream Anatomy,' he instinctively caught a flaw in the trajectory of 'Buck Stone Axe's' swing. It was a structure beyond the reach of the naked eye, as if he could directly sense the break in the flow of power, the instantaneous imbalance at the junction of muscles and bones.

On the verge of exhausting his power, a clear structural line flashed across his blurred vision like a firefly suddenly lit on a dark canvas. It was a weak connection between bones, a blind spot in the transmission of power, the key point where all his strength was instantly deflected, and the only flaw not perfectly covered in 'Buck Stone Axe's' seemingly indestructible defense.

He struggled to gather his scattered consciousness, and with a trembling voice almost distorted, he gave instructions to Lina. Each word seemed to be squeezed out of his parched throat, and the blood-tinged air made his throat ache with every utterance, his voice hoarse and unlike his own.

"Right shoulder...below...there's a bone gap there! Quick!"

Lina's eyes, which had been shrouded in despair, were instantly brightened by his precise command. She had no time to question the source of the command; Lin Zheng's insight had saved their lives more than once. Her movements were lightning fast; almost instinctively, she barely adjusted the muzzle of her gun, aiming it in the direction Lin Zheng was pointing.

Without any hesitation, she adjusted the muzzle of the "modified firearm" with difficulty and pulled the trigger.

"Bang!"

The bullet tore through the air with a sharp whistle, striking Buck Stoneaxe's right arm with pinpoint accuracy. The rough leather armor offered no resistance to the bullet's kinetic energy; it embedded itself deeply in flesh, splattering crimson blood. Buck Stoneaxe's muscles instantly spasmed, his formidable strength abruptly severed in that moment.

Buck Stone Axe let out a deafening, beast-like roar, his voice filled with the ferocity of a wounded animal and astonishment at Lin Zheng. His roar was laced with resentment and pain, like the howl of a wounded beast, shaking everyone's eardrums. The excruciating pain in his right arm caused his muscles to instantly lose control, all his strength vanishing in an instant.

The homemade flail slipped from his hand and fell to the ground with a dull thud, like a broken chain, kicking up a cloud of dust. The accuracy of this strike undoubtedly shocked every tribal warrior present, and their previously frenzied offensive was momentarily halted by this unexpected turn of events.

A brief silence followed, broken only by the low growls of fear and anger from the tribal warriors and Evelyn's suppressed sobs. Lina's marksmanship, combined with Lin Zheng's precise commands, broke the stalemate, catching the previously dominant tribal warriors off guard for a moment. A tense atmosphere filled the air; everyone's nerves were stretched to the limit.

Evelyn clung tightly to Arthur, pressing the remaining bandages and tattered rags torn from somewhere against his chest wound. Blood continued to seep from between her fingers, staining her pale hands crimson. Tears streamed down her face, soaking Arthur's charred clothes. Her desperate sobs, though faint, were heart-wrenching.

Arthur's breathing grew weaker and weaker, each breath like a countdown to his final moments, the piercing hoarseness causing Evelyn to tremble uncontrollably. His lips were purple, his face pale, his eyes unfocused; the light of his life was slowly fading. Evelyn tried to offer some comfort to Arthur's cold body with her own warmth, but it was futile. That desperate and helpless expression was etched deeply into Lin Zheng's eyes. He felt a agonizing pain of helplessness gnawing at his heart.

Lina's gunfire continued to suppress the surging tribal warriors, but they seemed tireless, like a horde of bloodthirsty zombies, their fanatical shouts deafening. Buck Stoneaxe's injury only caused them a brief hesitation; then, led by other warriors, they surged forward again like a tide, showing no sign of retreat. Their eyes were filled only with killing intent and fanaticism for "Grand Lord Percy."

Although Buck Stoneaxe was wounded, his already fierce eyes became even more manic, with anger and fanaticism churning deep within his pupils like two burning flames. The excruciating pain from the bullets did not deter him; instead, it ignited a deeper savagery and ferocity within him. His body contorted, his muscles bulged, as if an indescribable power had been completely awakened within him.

His bare torso, the primitive totem tattoos seemingly brought to life by the blood, twisted and writhed like living things, emitting a dark red glow, making him look more like a bloodthirsty madman crawling out of an ancient battlefield than a simple tribal warrior. He was no longer human, but some kind of monster completely dominated by faith and violence.

He didn't pick up the flail again. Instead, like an enraged bear, he roared and charged forward once more. This time, his target was Jeremy, faster and fiercer, with a resolute determination to take him down with him. Every step he took shook the ground, like a moving wall of flesh and blood, carrying an overwhelming momentum.

His massive fist, accompanied by a deathly howl, slammed down on Jeremy's head. The fist was as thick as a hammer, its surface bulging with veins, seemingly embodying all of Buck Stoneaxe's rage and power; a suppressed, explosive roar filled the air.

Jeremy was already exhausted from the continuous fighting. He hadn't even had time to raise the "spare tire wrench" to block; his arms were sore and numb from the prolonged struggle. As the powerful punch was about to land, a flicker of despair crossed his eyes. He had given it his all; his body had reached its limit at this moment.

The buzzing in Lin Zheng's ears intensified, and everything before his eyes blurred. Time seemed to slow down, yet also speed up. Jeremy's face distorted in Lin Zheng's eyes, Buck Stoneaxe's狰狞 smile stretched out in slow motion, and the dust and blood mist in the air resembled solidified amber. He felt his blood running backward, an extreme anxiety and powerlessness threatening to overwhelm him completely.

The battle around the vehicle reached a terrifying stalemate. The battered "modified all-terrain vehicle" teetered on the brink of collapse, its metal frame groaning in agony under the immense pressure, each impact seemingly tearing it apart completely. The windows were shattered, the doors twisted beyond recognition, making it resemble an iron coffin on the verge of falling apart at any moment.

The tribal warriors' attacks failed to breach the defenses completely. They were held back by the makeshift barrier erected by Jeremy, Lina, and Evelyn, like a pack of hungry jackals who had surrounded their prey but couldn't bring themselves to bite. A tense, oppressive atmosphere hung in the air—the calm before the storm. Everyone knew this stalemate wouldn't last long.

Just then, a thunderous roar exploded across the battlefield, instantly drowning out all the noise. This sound was not the roar of a single tribal warrior, but a howl carrying absolute pressure and power, as if from the most ancient god deep in the wilderness, suppressing all the chaotic sound waves in an instant.

All the tribal warriors, whether roaring and charging forward or the restless "Gobi Raiders," seemed to have been frozen in place, their movements paralyzed. The fervor in their eyes was replaced by a deeper sense of awe and fear, as if they were facing the supreme being in their hearts. The entire battlefield fell into a deathly silence in an instant.

Lin Zheng turned his head with difficulty, looking in the direction from which the sound came. His vision blurred as he caught sight of a huge shadow, which, like a moving mountain, slowly and majestically walked out from the group of tribal warriors. Each step carried a heavy sense of oppression, causing the ground to tremble slightly.

He saw an exceptionally tall and imposing figure, like a moving mountain, slowly emerging from the ranks of tribal warriors. The man's muscles were bulging, his entire body covered in coarse hair, and his face and arms were covered with symbolic scars and tattoos. These tattoos were not mere decorations, but marks of some ancient ritual, exuding a chilling, bloody stench.

One of his eyes was blinded in a past battle and was tightly covered by a frosted iron eyepatch. The only eye that was exposed was as sharp as a night hawk's, sweeping across the chaotic battlefield. That single eye gleamed with cold calculation and undisguised aggression, as if it could see through all pretense and reach the essence of things.

This man was Brutus Grubb, the most violent and savage army commander under the Highlord of Parsis. His appearance instantly changed the atmosphere of the battlefield, transforming it from chaotic slaughter into an orderly encirclement. Every tribal warrior before him restrained their arrogance and became docile and obedient.

He swung his massive hand axe with a fierce motion, the blade stained with dried blood and the remains of some unidentified creatures. He casually repelled several tribal warriors who were trying to completely destroy the vehicle, like shooing away a pack of troublesome puppies. His movements were brutal and powerful, yet carried an undeniable efficiency. After being driven back, the tribal warriors didn't dare to put up the slightest resistance and obediently retreated to the side.

Brutus Grubb's single eye coldly swept across the interior of the carriage, his gaze piercing through the broken windows and the thick smoke, finally settling on Lin Zheng. It lingered for a few seconds, as if penetrating Lin Zheng's outer shell and looking directly into his inner secrets. It was a feeling of being stripped of pretense, of being utterly naked; Lin Zheng felt completely exposed in those eyes.

An unprecedented chill rose from the depths of Lin Zheng's bones, instantly spreading throughout his body. He felt like prey being watched, or even more special than prey, as the gaze held scrutiny and a strange... "interest," as if he were not an ordinary enemy, but a specimen worthy of study.

Brutus Grubb then issued a command in a rough and hoarse dialect. His voice sounded as if it had been honed in a deep throat; though unintelligible, the undeniable authority it conveyed sent shivers down the spines of everyone who heard it.

Although Lin Zheng couldn't understand every single word, that one word, that phrase carrying the chilling implication of death, struck his eardrums with crystal clarity:

"Capture him alive! Capture that weird Eastern guy inside..."

At the command, the attack tactics of all the tribal warriors changed instantly. Their eyes no longer held mere bloodlust, but a deeper greed and cunning ignited within them. The original assault tactic instantly transformed into an encirclement, and their gazes no longer met Jeremy or Lina's directly, but instead, they peered through the gaps, fixing their eyes intently on Lin Zheng.

They no longer focused on damaging the vehicle, but instead began to form a tighter encirclement. Their weapons were lowered, replaced by predatory greed, as they attempted to capture the people inside alive. Their eyes were like those of someone appraising a rare treasure, rather than prey about to be torn apart, which instilled in Lin Zheng an even more chilling fear.

The command instantly sent a chill down his spine. He had become the target. Why him of all people? Had his special abilities been detected? Or was he being mistaken for some other, more dangerous being? Lin Zheng's heart pounded violently, a fear deeper than death engulfing him. He couldn't understand why these primitive tribes were showing such unusual "attention" to him, the "Awakener."

Brutus Grubb's single, aggressive eye pierced through the shattered car window, locking onto Lin Zheng. His gaze seemed to rip his soul out, foreshadowing a fate more terrifying than death—a fate with an unknown purpose, the true abyss... He felt an unprecedented sense of crisis engulfing him like a tidal wave.

The latest chapter has ignited the plot! Stay tuned for more updates.