?

Old Qin gripped the kitchen knife tight, his pale legs pumping as he sprinted for his life.

Then, up ahead on the only road left, another dozen zombies appeared. The path was completely sealed.

He glanced back. A dark, seething mass of zombies stretched behind him-drawn by his panicked flight, too many to count.

He collapsed onto his backside, chest heaving. The panic in his eyes slowly faded, replaced by despair, and then... acceptance.

He had no strength left to kill even one more zombie.

Not in the middle of a horde like this.

So he would die quietly.

Better if they ate him completely-bones and all. He didn't want to turn into one of them after death. Didn't want his corpse rotting alone in the wasteland.

Clang!

Old Qin dropped the kitchen knife and watched the horde close in.

"Come on then! Eat me!" He laughed, cursing at them. "If you don't pick me clean, you're all bastards!"

He forced himself upright and limped toward the approaching mass.

The horde swallowed him instantly. The stench of rot filled his nostrils. Countless hands reached for him.

The nearest zombie lunged, jaws gaping for his throat.

Old Qin squeezed his eyes shut. His body tensed. He wanted to die with some dignity, but terror clawed at him anyway.

So he was still afraid of death after all.

But the bite never came.

He opened his eyes.

Every zombie had frozen in place-as if they'd all turned to wooden statues in a single instant.

Even the wind had stopped.

Old Qin saw grains of sand suspended in midair before his face, as though time itself had paused.

"Move!"

A cold, small hand seized his wrist and yanked him out of the frozen horde.

Old Qin's mind caught up. A short woman was pulling him along-wearing only a bra on top, filthy jeans below. All he could see was her thin back as she ran.

Strength flooded back into his limbs. His pale legs found their stride.

Through the swirling dust they fled-the man bare below the waist, the woman bare above-running for their lives.

Only when they'd left the horde far behind did the woman release his hand. She turned, studying him with sharp eyes.

"Th-thank you," Old Qin managed.

He noticed then that despite the grime on her face, she was beautiful. Early twenties, maybe. She looked a bit like that pre-apocalypse celebrity, Liying.

The woman slipped a fist-sized Copper Lamp from her other hand into her pocket. She licked her cracked lips.

"Don't thank me," she said, her voice hoarse. "Thank him."

"Him?"

"He didn't kill you. He gave you food and a gun. That told me you were worth saving."

Old Qin thought of Zhao Yin.

She saved him because of that man?

"I need a partner," the woman continued. "Someone to work with me. His actions told me you're the right person. Interested?"

Old Qin nodded immediately. "You saved my life. Whatever you need, I'll do it."

He'd seen her ability-she could freeze those monsters in place.

Following someone like her meant survival. He had nowhere else to go anyway. Why not work for her?

The woman swayed suddenly, nearly stumbling.

Old Qin caught her arm. "You're hurt?"

"I'm... fine." She steadied herself and shook her head.

She found a large meteorite and sat down, pulling a handful of red berries from her pocket. She gave half to Old Qin and slowly ate the rest.

Her other hand never left the Copper Lamp in her pocket.

Old Qin didn't notice that hand had only four fingers. Didn't see the drops of fresh blood slowly trickling into the lamp's glass shade...

...

Zhao Yin looked where Song Xiaodao was pointing.

Under the hazy yellow light, a potion bottle sat on a meteorite.

[Healing Potion: Grade D. Effect: Heals injuries. Any lifeform below Grade D experiences immediate Limb Regeneration upon consumption.]

Zhao Yin stared.

How was there a Grade D Healing Potion just sitting here?

Since the apocalypse began, he'd never cracked open anything this valuable.

In his previous life, any potion capable of regrowing limbs sold for astronomical prices-sometimes matching Evolution Potions of the same grade.

He frowned. Not many people knew the secret of Star Crystals yet. Anyone who opened a treasure like this would keep it for themselves.

Who would just leave it lying around?

"Maybe some zombie lost its mind, stopped eating Star Crystals, started playing with them like marbles, accidentally cracked one open, and out popped this potion?"

Ridiculous.

Even Zhao Yin had to laugh at his own thought.

"Zhao Yin, look-there's writing here." Song Xiaodao pointed at the meteorite's surface.

He'd been so focused on the potion he hadn't noticed.

Three crooked characters, scrawled in charcoal ash: I'm sorry!

"Someone wrote this," Zhao Yin murmured. "What did they do that needed apologizing for?"

"Who knows? Maybe there are other survivors around here." Song Xiaodao sounded just as puzzled.

Zhao Yin had been harvesting corn earlier and hadn't paid attention to the outside. Now he pushed his hearing to its limit-but the wind was even fiercer today. He couldn't distinguish breathing or footsteps within two kilometers.

Since he couldn't find answers, he stopped thinking about it.

Even if there were survivors nearby, anything that entered his Spatial Ring wasn't coming back out.

"Let's go," Zhao Yin said.

He walked away fast, like a thief making off with stolen goods.

Song Xiaodao and the two beasts hurried after him.

They didn't slow down until they'd covered two kilometers.

Song Xiaodao's short legs were struggling to keep up. She was gasping for breath. "Zhao Yin... could someone be apologizing to you?"

"Impossible. Besides you, I don't know any other survivors."

Seeing his certainty, Song Xiaodao dropped the subject.

Zhao Yin noticed the vegetation along the ruined highway had grown even thicker than two days ago.

These weren't mutant plants-just ordinary growth. But their vitality far exceeded anything from before the apocalypse.

Weeds and vines choked the ruins, roots punching straight through concrete. Cracks spread across countless slabs.

Zhao Yin knew it wouldn't be long before these ruins vanished entirely, broken down by the encroaching green.

In a few years, people might not remember what their homes once looked like.

The world would reset. A cycle completed. A return to the primitive.

He'd once read an article speculating that before humans ruled this world, countless civilizations had already risen and fallen.

No one knew why they were destroyed. No one knew when they began.

Maybe that wasn't speculation. Maybe it was fact.

This apocalypse was exactly that-technological civilization crumbling, extraordinary civilization rising.

Zhao Yin just didn't know what role humanity would play in the end.

Would zombies evolve intelligence and replace human dominion? Or would humans wipe out every last zombie?

None of it mattered to him.

What mattered was gathering supplies. Getting stronger.

He wouldn't build another camp. Wouldn't lose himself in power again.

He just needed enough resources, enough strength-and then he'd take the people and beasts he cared about and survive.

A fierce wind howled toward them, whipping and wailing.

It tangled Song Xiaodao's long hair and pressed her dress tight against her body, outlining her slight, girlish frame.

Guangzhou City lay about five hundred kilometers from the Dawei Mountains. They needed to head north.

Zhao Yin chose a shortcut, leading them into what had once been mountain forest.

As they moved further from the city, the scattered wandering zombies grew scarce, then disappeared entirely.

The apocalypse had destroyed most of the forests. Only a handful of mutant trees had shot up overnight. Everything else was just weeds.

It hadn't rained since the world ended. The wind carried heavy dust.

Zhao Yin pulled out two gas masks. He and Song Xiaodao each put one on.

As for Old Bull and Little Monkey-they could deal with the wind.

Three days later, they'd made their way deep into the Dawei Mountains.

"Zhao Yin, we can't get around up ahead-zombies are blocking the road!" Song Xiaodao pointed forward.

This had been a tourist area once. Finally, zombies appeared in their line of sight.

"Monkey. Go handle them," Zhao Yin ordered.

Ahead, an overturned minibus blocked the only path. Twenty zombies wandered nearby.

Three of them were F-Grade.