The gray-yellow acid rain is like a mouthful of phlegm, spitting continuously on the sore-like land of Scrap Iron Town.
The sky is always that lifeless lead-grey color, with thick layers of radiation clouds that block the sunlight. The air was filled with the pungent smell of sulfur, engine oil, and the stench of a rotting and fermenting corpse in the corner. This is the Earth in 2150, a ghost place where human life is worth more than scrap metal.
Lu Ze was huddled in a worn-out protective suit with patches on top of each other, with a dusty gas mask on his head. He was digging for food on a mountain of mechanical garbage that was more than ten meters high. He is eighteen years old, and his body looks a little thin, but the muscles under the protective suit are like a wild dog that has been crawling around in this wasteland for more than ten years. They are hard and strong, and they can bite someone's throat at any time.
"Stab-"
Rusty iron pieces scratched the surface of the protective suit. Lu Ze didn't even frown. His hands wearing torn leather gloves quickly dug through a pile of scrapped heavy industrial gears. In this low-level scrap metal town, those who work in their profession of mechanical maintenance and scavenging can't even take a mouthful of low-quality nutritional cream if they move slowly. Those plutocratic grandpas in the high-altitude "Floating City" casually leak some electronic waste from their fingers, which is the ration for their low-level maggots to survive.
