The tension that had filled the quiet halls of the upper floor was a coiled serpent, a palpable dread that had kept the survivors in its suffocating grip.
Han Zhe, a man of action and authority in a world that no longer respected such things, found himself in a state of frantic helplessness. He paced back and forth, the sound of his footsteps a rhythmic counterpoint to the nervous thrumming of his own heartbeat.
In the distance, the faint, muffled sounds of a raging battle punctuated the silence.
He strained his ears, his new awakened senses catching every gunshot and every roar, painting a terrifying picture in his mind. He knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the bone, that Lin Kai was fighting a battle he should not have to fight alone.
Jiang Lie, ever the anchor of their small group, watched her husband's turmoil with a deep, silent worry of her own. She was a healer, a protector of life, but in this moment, all she could do was wait. Her eyes moved from her husband to the terrified faces of the survivors, her heart aching for them.
She was a calm presence, a quiet strength, as she moved through the room, offering a soft word here, a gentle touch there, a silent promise that everything would be okay. "He's strong," she murmured to a young woman, her voice a soothing balm. "We have to believe in him."
Hours stretched into what felt like an eternity. Every gunshot was a jolt, a physical shock to their very souls. Every moment of silence was a terrifying void, a black hole of uncertainty that threatened to swallow them whole.
When the firing finally began to decrease, a collective sigh of relief, a fragile tendril of hope, passed through the room. "It's a good sign," Jiang Lie said, her voice a quiet, powerful anchor. "He's winning."
Han Zhe nodded, but his mind was still on the worst-case scenario. The battle was over, but the danger was not. The muffled moans and shuffling footsteps of the corrupted began to reach his ears.
They were drawn by the noise, a swarm of death closing in. He looked out the window and saw the horde, a wave of grotesque, shambling horrors. He felt a profound sense of despair, of helplessness. He had to go.
He couldn't let Lin Kai die. He had watched the boy grow up, had seen him transform from a scared child into a powerful teenager. The bond was more than just that of a leader and a subordinate. It was that of a father and a son.
"Jiang Lie," he said, his voice low and firm, a voice filled with a desperate, paternal resolve. "I have to go."
She didn't argue. She knew that nothing she said would stop him. She saw the fierce determination in his eyes, the unwavering love. "Bring him back alive," she said, her voice a plea, a single, desperate prayer. He nodded, and with a final, silent look, he was gone. He looked back at her one more time and saw the love and trust in her eyes. He knew he had to succeed.
Han Zhe was a blur of motion, running towards the building where he had left Lin Kai. The corrupted were getting closer now, their groaning growing louder, more guttural. He reached the building, his heart pounding in his chest.
He saw the bodies of the prisoners, their faces frozen in expressions of surprise and terror. The sight was horrific, a scene of carnage that made him sick to his stomach. He saw the blood, a river of red that was still flowing, a testament to the brutal battle that had taken place.
And then he saw Lin Kai, his clothes torn, his body covered in blood, a bullet hole in his stomach. Han Zhe's face went white. He fell to his knees, his hands shaking. He felt for a pulse, and when he found one, he let out a shuddering sigh of relief. Lin Kai was alive.
Without a moment's hesitation, he picked up Lin Kai and started running. He had to be fast. The corrupted were getting closer now.
He could hear their groaning. He had to get back to the hiding spot. He was running as fast as he could, his legs a blur of motion, his body screaming in pain. He was a survivor. He was a hero.
He reached the hiding spot, his body covered in sweat, his clothes torn, his face a mask of exhaustion. The people inside were horrified. "What happened to him?" a woman screamed. "Is he bitten?" a man yelled. Another one told, "Please keep him outside!!!"
Han Zhe, his voice raw with exhaustion, roared, "He is Lin Kai! He saved us from those people! Now, do you want to let him die?" His voice was full of authority, and it silenced the crowd.
Jiang Lie, who was at his side, calmed the people down. She saw the oppressive aura around her husband and knew he was in a state of fury.
The people who had asked were now apologizing, their faces red with shame. They now understood what this young man had done for them. A solemn silence fell over the room.
Han Zhe then asked if there were any medics in the group. Five people raised their hands. They came forward and began to tend to Lin Kai's wounds. One of them, a college girl, was surprised and terrified. "How is he still alive?" she asked. "It's a miracle."
The other four nodded. Lin Kai had a bullet wound in his stomach, and his body was covered in bruises and cuts. He should have been dead. But he wasn't. He was a living miracle.
After an hour of careful handling, the medics heaved a sigh of relief. The couple, who were monitoring the surroundings, also felt a wave of relief. "There is no immediate danger," one of the medics who is a pharmacist informed them. "His wounds are already healing."
Han Zhe told them that it was because he was a high-order awakened one. He then turned to the crowd and spoke.
"We can't depend on him forever. We have to become stronger. We have to overcome our fears and fight. Do you want to die unwillingly, or do you want to fight for your lives?"
His voice was a powerful, commanding force that held the attention of everyone in the room.
Jiang Lie, seeing her chance, added, "Lin Kai protected us today, but what will happen if he's not here? Can we survive with fear? Don't you want to become strong enough to protect yourselves and others?"
The people began to mutter. They were terrified. They had never held a weapon in their lives. They were scared of dying. But they were also tired of being scared. They were tired of being weak. They were tired of being at the mercy of others.
"To become strong, you need to overcome your fear and kill the corrupted," Han Zhe said, his voice unwavering. "You can't depend on us forever." A few people tried to raise their voices, but the couple's dead calm expressions silenced them. The room fell into a quiet contemplation.
They needed time to think. They needed time to process this new reality. Han Zhe and Jiang Lie didn't disturb them. They gave them the space they needed. They then told the group to eat the food they had carried and assured them that they would go to bring more later.
It was afternoon now, and some of the people, including many young ones, came forward. They had fire in their eyes, a newfound determination. They wanted to kill and become stronger. They wanted to help. The couple was pleased. "Wait for now," they said.
"We will discuss this with Lin Kai so that we can all go in small groups and have safety." They also saw a few people who were silent, a look of disapproval on their faces. The couple didn't care. They were not here to please everyone. They were here to survive.
After some time, Lin Kai's eyelids fluttered open to the faint glow of dawn filtering through the boarded windows of the upper floor. His body ached with a deep, throbbing insistence, every muscle protesting the simple act of stirring.
The bandages around his stomach pulled tight, a stark reminder of the bullet's bite, but the pain had dulled to a manageable hum, his regeneration working its slow miracle.
He lay there for a moment, staring at the cracked ceiling above, his mind replaying the night's frenzy in fragmented bursts—the flash of gunfire, the wet thud of bodies hitting the ground, Shen Feng's final, surprised gasp. The victory tasted like ash, a hollow echo in the silence of the room.
Beside him, Han Zhe dozed fitfully in a folding chair, his broad frame slumped forward, one hand resting on the hilt of a scavenged machete. Jiang Lie sat nearby, her eyes half-lidded but alert, a makeshift compress in her lap from tending to the wounded.
The survivors huddled in clusters on threadbare mats and cushions, their faces etched with exhaustion and the raw edges of grief. A few murmured prayers under their breath, their voices a soft undercurrent to the distant, guttural moans drifting from the streets below.
Lin Kai shifted slightly, wincing as the movement tugged at his stitches, and Han Zhe's eyes snapped open, his hand tightening on the machete.
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Author's Note:
Dear Readers, please share ur thoughts and ideas if u have any for my novel. Don't hesitate and comment freely and only with this i can understand. Your support is my motivation for writing more chapter for u guys.