The afternoon temperature was 46.1 degrees Celsius.

Zhang Youhai and the others on the motorcycles had stripped their shirts off and draped them over their heads as improvised shade. Shen Cong watched them on the rear camera and found this reasonable given the conditions and mildly concerning as a data point about how quickly the environment was becoming incompatible with unprotected human activity.

The drought had been running for over a month. The Yuxi River was shallow enough in places to show the riverbed. The only reason the city south survivor population hadn’t collapsed from dehydration was that there were only a few hundred of them, and Lake Chao — one of China’s five major freshwater lakes — was still holding water even as everything smaller dried out.

He’d heard the Dragon Slayer origin story through Zhang Youhai at some point: a creature seen rolling in Lake Chao during the initial storms, large enough to read as a dragon, Zhang Tianshen having announced his intention to slay it and organized his faction around that stated objective. The creature was presumably still alive. Zhang Tianshen was not.

The irony was too straightforward to be interesting.

Mudan Road was passable — the Dragon Slayers had been maintaining it as a tax corridor, which meant the surface debris had been cleared. Vajra came up to proper operating speed for the first time since arriving in the area. The sensation of actually moving was disproportionately satisfying after days of static operations in the ruins.

Wang Gen’s compound came into view at the road’s end: stone and rebar construction, guarded approaches, the marks of two months of deliberate fortification. Two figures emerged from the gate when the horn sounded — four canine teeth too large for a human jaw, and ten fingers with elongated hardened tips. Tao Daqian and Dahaizi, the two mutants in Wang Gen’s core group.

Wan Quan, from Zhang Youhai’s pillion seat, called out recognizable names and the standoff deescalated before it properly formed.

Wang Gen came out when the vehicles were identified.

He was wearing improvised armor — steel plates connected with wire, the construction of someone who’d understood the principle without having the equipment or knowledge to execute it properly. It wasn’t protective in any serious sense. It was a statement.

In the moment Wang Gen saw Vajra, Shen Cong saw it happen.

The recognition. The specific involuntary response that he’d felt himself when Vajra had first sensed the motorcycle — the pull, the awareness of compatible Activity, the instinct to close the distance. Wang Gen suppressed it quickly, but not quickly enough for someone watching for it through a camera feed.

He feels the pull too.

Shen Cong revised the probability of this interaction turning hostile upward from 50% to 90% and began monitoring for the specific approach patterns that would indicate an imminent attack.

Wang Gen reached out and gripped one of Vajra’s exterior spikes.

Through the contact, through the Active connection that flowed along Vajra’s external surface, Shen Cong got the information he’d been waiting for.

The reading was easier than he’d expected — liquid Activity recognizing liquid Activity, the frequency and continuity measurements settling into clarity without the resistance he encountered with solid-state evolved-beast cores.

Pseudo-Level 0.541.

He let the tension in his chest release slightly. Not fully — 0.541 was a serious capability level, and Wang Gen had two months of field experience and a fortified position — but the gap between 0.541 and 0.955 was the kind of gap that changed what options were available.

He’s significantly below me. If this turns, I can handle it.

Wang Gen wanted to discuss evolution before the trade. Shen Cong wanted the diesel secured before any conversation. They held these positions for three minutes before Wang Gen conceded.

The exchange: two large bags of flour, twenty cans of preserved food, ten packs of compressed ration biscuits for 800 liters of diesel.

Not cheap. Acceptable given the alternatives.

He’d been carrying approximately 180 liters when he arrived in city south. Adding 300 liters from the Dragon Slayer cache had brought him to 480. Adding 800 from Wang Gen brought him to 1,280. Capacity was 1,880 liters diesel plus 500 liters gasoline. He was still 600 liters short of full diesel, but 1,280 liters was operational. Wang Gen had more but wouldn’t sell further.

He also got a clear look at Wang Gen’s vehicle: a Hummer with an iron-clad trailer attached, the trailer presumably for transporting Wang Gen’s people. The sight of the Hummer produced an immediate and specific sensation through the Active connection — Vajra wanted it, the pull he’d felt toward the motorcycle amplified by the vehicle’s substantially greater Active mass.

He suppressed the response and gestured Wang Gen toward the rear compartment.

Wang Gen settled into the meeting space and opened the conversation immediately.

“You felt it, didn’t you. When you saw my Hummer.”

“Describe what you mean.”

“The pull. The hunger. The feeling that you want to take it into yourself.” Wang Gen watched him without apparent concern. “Every iron person I’ve met, it happens when one iron person encounters another’s vehicle. I confirmed it with three separate contacts before I was sure it was real.”

Three separate iron people. He’s been operating here for two months and has met three others.

“You mentioned a fire brigade commander,” Shen Cong said. “A fire truck.”

“Liu, from the Juchao main district fire brigade. Before the structure fell apart. He’s still there as far as I know.” Wang Gen paused. “He’s an iron person, I’m an iron person, and you’re clearly an iron person. We all feel the same thing when we encounter each other’s vehicles. What does that tell us?”

“That liquid-phase Active systems recognize compatible systems.”

Wang Gen’s eyes sharpened. “Liquid phase. Interesting term. Where did you get that?”

“I developed it myself.”

A brief assessment. Wang Gen accepted this and continued.

“The attraction — if I had to guess, it’s because iron people can absorb each other. Integrate. Combine. Whether that would make the result stronger or just larger, I don’t know. But the instinct is there and it’s specific. Evolved beasts don’t produce it.”

Correct. The motorcycle produced it. The Hummer produces it. The evolved beasts produced absorption-instinct but not this particular directional pull.

“What’s the Oasis?” Shen Cong asked.

Wang Gen looked at him for a moment, apparently deciding how much to share.

“The military, when they came through — they weren’t just collecting evolved people. They had information about something. A location. They called it the Oasis.” He leaned forward slightly. “A place where the ecology hasn’t collapsed. Where the Activity settled differently. Where something is growing rather than dying.”

“Where?”

“Northwest of Hefei. That’s all I know. The detail they shared was limited — they were collecting, not briefing. But every evolved person they took with them knew the destination.” He paused. “If you’re heading to the provincial military district, they’re not actually in Hefei city proper. They’re at the Oasis.”

Shen Cong sat with this.

Not Hefei. The Oasis, northwest of Hefei.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Wang Gen smiled with the patience of someone who’d already worked through the calculation. “Because you’re stronger than me, you’re leaving, and knowing where you’re going might help both of us. If you get there, you’ll find out things I need to know. If you ever come back.”

An information exchange framed as mutual benefit. He’s trying to establish a future claim on whatever I discover.

“I don’t make commitments about coming back.”

“I know. I’m noting the possibility, not expecting the promise.”

Shen Cong stood. The meeting was over.

(End of Chapter 73)