The first light of morning seeped through the jagged gaps in the boarded windows, stirring the group from a deep, restorative sleep.
The upper floor of the safehouse hummed with quiet activity as the survivors awoke, their movements slow but deliberate as they stretched stiff limbs and shook off the lingering shadows of nightmares.
The air carried a faint crispness, a rare reprieve from the oppressive heat of recent days, tinged with the subtle scent of ozone that hinted at an unseen storm brewing beyond the horizon.
Blankets were folded with care, mats rolled into tight bundles, and the remnants of last night's meal—scattered crumbs of dried fruit and empty cans—were swept into a corner, the clink of metal against concrete a soft rhythm in the dawn.
The mood was a fragile tapestry of determination and apprehension, each person acutely aware that today marked their departure toward Shanghai, a journey fraught with uncertainty.
Lin Kai awoke with a clarity that cut through the fog of exhaustion, his body feeling lighter after the night's rest. He sat up slowly, the bandages around his stomach, shoulder, leg, and arm pulling taut where the bullets had ravaged his flesh.
The wounds had mostly healed, the skin beneath forming tender, pink scars, but a persistent sting lingered, a sharp reminder of his vulnerability despite his Zero Order (Peak) strength.
He traced a finger over the bandage on his stomach, feeling the faint warmth of regeneration, and decided against removing them.
The risk of tearing the fragile tissue outweighed the discomfort, and he reached into his inventory space—a hidden pocket of his past life's foresight—pulling out a new set of adventure clothes. The dark fabric, reinforced with subtle stitching, hugged his frame, offering both protection and mobility.
He kept the spatial technique to himself, its low-grade complexity requiring time and comprehension he couldn't afford now, thanks to fragmented memories that whispered of its mastery. Teaching it would only waste time unnecessarily which they needed for survival.
Around him, the group moved with purpose. Han Zhe and Jiang Lie orchestrated the final preparations, their voices a low murmur as they coordinated the distribution of supplies.
The food truck, a lumbering relic parked outside, had been a lifeline, but its size posed a hazard on the uneven roads ahead. After a hushed discussion the previous night, they'd resolved to abandon it.
The survivors gathered around the crates, sharing a hearty breakfast of canned beans and fruit preserves, the rich aroma filling the room as they ate until their stomachs protested with satisfied fullness.
Some food remained—sealed tins and packets—and they decided to cache it in a hidden nook beneath a loose floorboard, marked with a scratched spiral symbol on the wall.
"For us if we circle back," Han Zhe said, his voice carrying a note of cautious optimism, "or for others who might stumble here." The thought of aiding future survivors lent a bittersweet resolve to their departure.
Lin Kai joined the couple, testing his mobility with cautious strides. The pain flared with each step—stomach, shoulder, leg, arm—but he masked it with a steady gait, unwilling to delay the group.
"We're set," he said, his voice firm. Han Zhe nodded, clapping a hand on his back with a gruff nod of approval, while Jiang Lie offered a warm smile, her eyes searching his for any hint of weakness.
The survivors—forty-four strong—formed a loose line, clutching makeshift weapons and salvaged bags, their faces a mosaic of resolve and lingering fear.
They stepped into the morning light, the cool air brushing their skin, and made their way toward the building where Lin Kai had faced Shen Feng the previous day. The streets lay silent, the pavement a mosaic of rubble and shattered glass crunching underfoot.
As they neared, a rancid stench assaulted them—coppery blood mingled with decay—followed by the grim tableau of the battlefield. The bodies Lin Kai had left were torn asunder, limbs strewn like broken dolls, flesh stripped by the corrupted who had feasted in the night.
A few survivors gagged, their hands clamping over mouths, the sound muffled but visceral, yet no one raised a voice. The sight steeled their nerves; they understood the necessity of preparing for horrors yet to come.
Lin Kai scanned the debris, his pulse steadying as he spotted his second katana in a shadowed corner, its blade dulled by gore but intact. He retrieved it, wiping it clean on a tattered cloth, the weight a comforting anchor in his hands.
Han Zhe and Jiang Lie moved among the group, distributing a handful of guns scavenged from the ground—rusted pistols and a dented shotgun, their magazines half-full. They selected recipients
with steady hands, offering quiet instructions on grip and trigger discipline. Lin Kai observed, noting the flicker of gratitude and unease in the chosen few, a silent bond forming amid the ruin.
The group resumed their march, walking slowly through the devastated streets. Buildings rose like skeletal remains, their facades crumbled or scorched, while houses stood as hollow husks, roofs collapsed, windows gaping like sightless eyes.
A flickering lantern, its glass cracked but still burning, swung from a lamppost, casting eerie shadows. The occasional corrupted loomed in the distance, their moans a low, mournful hum.
Lin Kai exchanged a glance with Han Zhe and Jiang Lie, who nodded in unison. This was a test. "Take them down," Lin Kai said, his tone calm but resolute. "One by one."
The survivors hesitated, then stepped forward. A burly man with a crowbar lunged, smashing a corrupted's skull with a sickening crunch, his face paling but set.
A woman with a pistol fired, the shot reverberating, missing once before piercing its target, her hands quivering. Others tried—some with bold swings, others faltering—while a few stood paralyzed, eyes wide with dread.
Lin Kai sighed inwardly, the couple echoing his frustration with a shared glance. They'll learn with time, he thought, letting the moment pass. The fallen corrupted dissolved into ash, a curious shimmer in the air, noted but unexplained.
By afternoon, the sun blazed overhead, casting stark shadows. More than half the group had awakened during the encounters, their auras flickering like faint flames, a newfound strength evident in their stances.
Their stomachs, still sated from the morning feast, held firm, and they pressed on, their mission now to locate other survivors.
The terrain shifted as they approached a cracked soccer field, its goalposts bent and overgrown with weeds, and behind it, a building with shattered windows—Lin Kai's high school. His chest constricted, a wave of melancholy crashing over him.
The once-vibrant halls, alive with laughter and lessons, now stood as a skeletal wreck, its beauty erased by chaos. This place shaped me, he mused, the memory of chalk dust and ringing bells clashing with the present desolation.
A weathered school trophy, its gold plating chipped, lay half-buried in the dirt nearby, a poignant relic of lost normalcy.
A rustle broke his reverie—shallow breaths and soft footsteps from within. He tensed, gripping his twin blades, and signaled Han Zhe and Jiang Lie. "Something's inside," he whispered, his voice taut.
The couple's expressions hardened, vigilance etching their features. A faint radio signal crackled from the school, a distorted hum cutting through the silence, adding an unsettling edge.
Lin Kai took the lead, the group fanning out behind him, their steps cautious on the uneven ground. The air grew thick with tension, the scent of ozone intensifying as they advanced.
The footsteps grew louder, a deliberate march toward them. Then, from the shadowed entrance, five figures emerged—three boys and two girls, their high school uniforms tattered and stained with grime.
They moved with caution, wielding a baseball bat, a sharpened stick, a dented fire axe, and two makeshift knives. Lin Kai's group halted, blades and guns poised, the air crackling with unease.
The high schoolers' leader, a tall boy with sharp features, stepped forward, his eyes narrowing before softening with recognition.
Lin Kai studied him, the face slotting into place—Jiag Yu, the friendly senior who'd once tutored him through a grueling physics test, the vice president of the student council.
A faint smile curved Jiag Yu's lips, though his posture remained guarded. "Were you in second year?" he asked, his voice tentative but warm. "Um… what was your name? Ha, Lin Kai, right? I hope you're holding up out here."
Lin Kai felt a rush of relief, a rare warmth breaking through his guarded demeanor. He's alive—maybe the others are too. The familiarity loosened his grip on the blades slightly, a cautious hope flickering.
"Jiag Yu," he replied, his tone softening. "Good to see you standing. I'm managing—barely. We've been carving a path through this mess, searching for anyone left." His eyes flicked to the others, their wary stances mirroring his group's, a fragile bridge forming.
Han Zhe and Jiang Lie held their silence, their gazes locked on Jiag Yu, weighing the boy's presence. Who is this to Lin Kai? Han Zhe pondered, his hand resting on his machete, ready to act.
Jiang Lie's mind whirled, If they're organized, they could strengthen us—or pose a threat. They deferred to Lin Kai, trusting his connection, the air thick with unspoken assessments as the two groups faced each other across the desolate field.
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Author's Note:
Dear Readers, hope u like this chapter and to know what will happen after this, u need to read and experience it also. Your support is my motivation and if u want then please comment so that i can understand ur thoughts & ideas.