The gale-force tropical wind whipped continuously across the upper elevation of Sector Four, driving sheets of cold, stinging mist across the dark rock shelf. Eighty meters above the submerged lower basins, the central plateau stretched out like an uneven granite platform.
It was far from a luxury refuge—it was simply the only dry patch of rock left above the rapidly rising floodwaters. The torrential downpour had completely stripped away the topsoil over hours of relentless deluge, leaving behind slick, black stone that made walking in wet boots a constant physical hazard.
Wu Haoran's heavy boot slammed onto the edge of the granite ledge with a wet, heavy thud. He collapsed backward onto his rear, dragging his primary survival pack up behind him with a low grunt.
