Psychics don't die from gunfire

The engine of the off-road vehicle slowly died down and stopped two hundred meters away from the convoy.

Song Shi pushed open the door and got out.

The convoy that was carrying the temporary camp suddenly became solemn. The two middle-aged men looked at each other and stood up.

They were all dressed in wear-resistant jackets, work clothes and jeans, which were patched and had large pieces of fabric splicing marks. One of them picked up an assault rifle, put it in front of him, and pulled the safety without concealing it.

"No harm."

Song Shi raised his voice a little, and at the same time generously showed his whole body, showing no signs of any weapons.

"I'm alone here, and I just happened to meet you. I want to go with you. What do you say?"

The man holding the rifle looked at the young man in front of him. He was not very old and had no obvious signs of prosthetic implants. In this case, the natural flesh hands, the inner ring finger and the tiger's mouth had no calluses, which meant that the other party rarely used firearms.

That would be a big problem.

Not proficient in weapons, not implanted prosthetics, and young, he went to the wasteland alone.

——Either a moron or a ruthless character.

But where is the ruthlessness?

At this moment, the companion next to the gunman spoke.

"Friend." He said in a deep voice: "We don't have much food and water, but we can share some with you. I don't think we can travel together."

"My friend, are you alone?"

Suddenly, a hoarse voice interrupted.

He was an old man in his sixties or seventies. The wrinkles on his face reminded people of the hills and valleys eroded by the wind for a long time. The face was yellow and hard, and every crack was precipitated with deep colors.

He walked out of a felt tent in the camp. His status was obviously very high. When the two men blocking the door saw him, their expressions suddenly showed some respect.

The old man nodded slightly to them, as a gesture, and then looked at the young man in front.

"One person."

Facing this sight, Song Shi did not hesitate and answered loudly: "Add an intelligent machine."

Lapis Lazuli flew out: "Hello."

Seeing the intelligent machine, the old man's brows changed slightly, and then quickly regained his calm. He looked at the young man and the intelligent machine for a few breaths, and then turned around.

"Then come in."

The two people on the side were stunned for a moment, and then they were shocked and lowered their voices: "Uncle Qiao Sen, this is too bold"

"My feeling." The old man called "Qiao Sen" shook his head: "They are very clean."

This sentence was not lowered.

Then come in.

Song Shi parked the car at the edge of the camp, and surrounded the camp with other vehicles, mainly pickup trucks. Most of the latter were covered with a thick layer of dustproof cloth. The wasteland in this area was very windy and sandy at night.

The scale of this wanderer tribe is not large, and it can even be said to be quite small. There are only six pickup trucks and a van in total, most of which are covered with rust, and all members are in their early twenties.

Song Shi also noticed one thing, these people are not low in age.

The two members in charge of the alert were called "middle-aged men", but upon closer inspection, they were probably over fifty years old.

".What are you going to do in the wasteland?"

It was getting dark, and two bonfires rose in the center of the camp. The flames swayed in the wind, reflecting two faces with a strong orange-red color.

The old man did not ask Song Shi's name, nor did he say his own.

He stared at the bonfire intently, as if the fire could burn away the turbidity in his eyes.

"Go to Ye Nan."

Song Shi pressed his hand into the fire and felt the temperature.

"Yenan."

The old man muttered the word: "Well, you should go there."

"What do you mean?"

Song Shi turned his head.

Not far away, Lapis Lazuli was maintaining prosthetics and repairing equipment for people. The resources of this wanderer tribe were obviously not abundant. When encountering such things, their attitude towards them suddenly eased a lot.

"Youth. Youth is the best gift." After a few breaths, the old man slowly said: "Yenan is big enough to accommodate everyone. You have a future there."

Song Shi asked very naturally: "Why didn't you go?"

The old man laughed softly.

"Haven't you seen it? Our tribe has long been dead in name only." He picked up a piece of coal and put it on the edge of the campfire: "The future belongs to the young, not to old guys like me."

"They all went to Yenan." He said: "More than ten years ago, our family was divided."

Song Shi understood what the other party was talking about.

Under the leadership of the first generation of Yenan Lord, the forces that were defeated in the Seven Land Wars came one after another, first defeated and then won, becoming one of the final winners, laying the foundation for the current world situation.

Wanderers are naturally one of the components of [Yenan].

-After all, compared with other forces, they have an innate sense of intimacy with the new country [Yenan] where the "losers" came from.

During the Seven Lands War, several large tribes of wanderers joined Ye'nan. With their own advantages in the wasteland operations, they successfully exchanged for a fixed home after the war and ended their wandering life in the wasteland.

Life in the wasteland is not easy.

This is a territory far away from civilization.

After the Seven Lands War, until now, new wanderers have chosen to join Ye'nan. Even some large tribes that were once famous have either died out due to personnel loss or the entire tribe has joined Ye'nan.

This small tribe in front of us is just an inconspicuous member of it.

"Okay, let's not talk about the future." Song Shi roasted a bunch of dried white maggots and put them in his mouth: "Just ask what your plans are next?"

"In a few days, this area will enter a storm period." The old man didn't even raise his head, coughed twice, and replied: "We are going to go north, to a place without wind and sand."

"Exclusive route?" Song Shi was a little interested.

"Exclusive route. That's not something a small tribe like us can have." The old man laughed: "We."

"Only a little bit of inherited experience." Song Shi said the next sentence for him.

For the first time, the old man's face showed a bit of surprise. He turned his head and asked, "Have you lived in a wanderer tribe before?"

"I guess so." Song Shi laughed, "I followed several tribes in the wasteland for a while. It was troublesome, but it was quite interesting. You wanderers love to talk about family inheritance. I guess it is."

".Is that the case?"

The old man thought for a while, then nodded, "I just feel that you are relatively 'clean'. Strange, I think I have a good eye for people who have been wanderers, but you don't have much of a wanderer smell."

"That may be because I have been in other professions for much longer than wanderers."

Song Shi smiled.

"Go north, then what about when you get to the north?" He said again, "Continue to wander? Or find a temporary community to stick together?"

"Then die there." The old man said.