Ruins of steel and concrete stretch beneath your feet, stretching to the gray horizon at the end of your field of vision. The wind picked up the dry gravel and slapped it on the silver-gray armor shell of Zero, making a fine but continuous rustling sound, like the last breath of this dead land. In the cockpit, Lin Mo's eyes calmly scanned the holographic tactical interface, which was marked with several flashing red light spots around the base, representing uninvited visitors. Energy reading not high, threat assessment: low. It was probably a reconnaissance unit sent by some irrepressible small force, or simply refugees in the wilderness who were driven crazy by radiation and hunger, trying to tear off a piece of meat from this newly established "fat sheep".
