He had lost count of how many times the low volcano had erupted.

Shen Cong leaned back in the driver's seat, cut off from the outside world once again. There was no Super-Thunder Wave signal, no electromagnetic signal, only endless violent Activity waves churning hard and shredding every attempt to sense anything.

The gale howled like wailing ghosts, the torrential rain came down in sheets, and flying sand and stones clattered against the vehicles.

It was as if he had been carried back to those dark days he would never forget.

Nearly three years ago, the old world had collapsed under the meteor shower and the new world had begun to show itself. Trapped in the apocalyptic storm, Shen Cong had lived alone for a month. In all that time he had only himself to talk to. He knew nothing about the apocalypse, and he met everything with fear and suspicion.

This time, too, he was full of unease about the future.

He didn't know what the disaster would turn into: one great earthquake, or the end of the world.

The difference was that back then he had been very weak, with no power at all to cope with any of the changes. Now he was a particle-grade Mechanist and could afford to be a little calmer. Short of something on the scale of the Earth blowing up, he could almost always find some way to survive.

There was one more difference.

This time he didn't feel alone at all. Brother Dao was going wild in Car One, howling about what a rush it was. Yellow Great-Immortal and the four-legged dragon had gotten over their first panic and were now flirting with each other. Blackhead was huddled at his feet, every so often letting out a dry howl of "Defend the homeland to the death!"

However silent the mood, this bunch would stir it up.

Time crept on.

There was no telling day from night. Only the ticking clock showed that the disaster had already gone on for three days. In those three days Shen Cong went out a few…