"A...space elevator?! Are you serious?"
The rickety open-top truck rattled along the rugged mountain road, rusty iron plates and railings clanking with the rise and fall of the axles.
It seemed like it might fall apart at any moment.
About twenty people crowded into the truck's cargo bed, their eyes filled with surprise and disbelief, all fixated on the man with mud-caked boots and a travel bag slung over his shoulder.
They didn't know where this guy came from, only that his name was Zhang Ze, a traveling merchant on the Wasteland.
The backpack on his shoulder was all his belongings, containing some peculiar little gadgets and bits of scrap he picked up along the way.
This was quite common.
There were even more merchants than mercenaries on the Wasteland, and not everyone could do big business like Mr. Lister; most scraped by, saving every Silver coin.
"Of course it's real! Why would I lie to you?"
