The second red supply beacon pulsated with a bright, rhythmic electronic glow from deep within the hollow cavity of a massive, rotting ironwood tree stump. Situated right at the boundary of the drying riverbed, the prize was practically within arm's reach.
Seeing the beacon sitting completely exposed, Yang Zixuan's competitive side flared into a burning, desperate heat. He had just witnessed Yang Muchen bridal-carry Chen Ying across a rushing torrent of muddy river water with the effortless grace of an alpha predator. The global live-stream chat was undoubtedly mocking Team B's sluggishness, and Yang Zixuan refused to accept a humiliating defeat on national television.
"The second beacon is ours!" Yang Zixuan barked, his jaw tight as he took a sharp stride forward, completely ignoring the slick, wet clay beneath his boots. He reached his right hand deep into the dark, shadowed recesses of the rotting wood, his fingers straining to clutch the metallic chassis of the supply pod.
