So, to get back to the point: since Ayn and Aya's destination was Osaka, what was their travel route like? The answer: starting from Ome City in Tokyo, passing through Koshu City in Yamanashi Prefecture to Okaya City in Nagano Prefecture; then from Okaya City heading to Komaki City in Aichi Prefecture; and finally from Komaki City crossing through Kyoto Prefecture to arrive in Osaka Prefecture.
Under normal circumstances, this journey would take about seven hours, and they'd originally planned to reach their destination around 7 p.m. on the 21st. However, this wasn't any "normal situation" anymore, after all, Tokyo had already erupted into a zombie outbreak. Along the way, they encountered traffic jams every so often.
The causes of these jams boiled down to two main factors: first, the massive exodus of people originally living in the Kanto region, swelling the number of vehicles on the roads far beyond usual levels. No matter which route they chose to escape Kanto, the result was the same, endless streams of cars stretching on. Second, police had set up checkpoints on multiple major roads, inspecting every passing vehicle one by one, which naturally created fresh bottlenecks.
And they didn't face just one checkpoint, but over a dozen. These were established by police from different jurisdictions—some from Tokyo Metropolis, some from Yamanashi Prefecture, others from Nagano Prefecture.
One might think scattering police forces like this for roadside checks was a waste. Wouldn't it make more sense for the Japanese government to concentrate officers in Tokyo to rescue those trapped by zombies? Yet Ayn didn't see it that way; he felt this arrangement wasn't wasteful at all. Why think so? For two reasons:
On one hand, the government needed to stabilize society and soothe the public. Tactically, these checkpoints might consume a lot of manpower, but psychologically, they made people feel like "the government still has the situation under control"—that reassurance alone was a way to calm the masses. On the other hand, the checkpoints did serve a real purpose, effectively blocking zombies from spreading outward and safeguarding other regions. As long as society outside Kanto kept functioning normally, Japan would have the resources to support Tokyo. After all, if zombies spread nationwide and chaos engulfed everywhere, who would have anything left to send to save Tokyo then?
If that's the case, why did the Japanese government still allow people from the Kanto region to flee? If they didn't want the outbreak to spread, wouldn't sealing off the entire area make more sense? As for this question, the internet already had answers, and they came straight from the government's official explanation.
According to the authorities, the source of this disaster wasn't a virus, but a parasite. Unlike viruses, it didn't spread through the air; it relied on bodily fluids and blood. More precisely, a person only got infected if the parasite eggs in zombie fluids truly entered the body. Simple contact with zombie blood, or even a single bite, wasn't enough to cause mutation—unless those eggs burrowed in through a wound.
Once parasitized, the eggs hatched rapidly inside the body, leaving almost no time, and the infected lost consciousness completely within sixty seconds, turning into a zombie. At the same time, the parasite's survival conditions were extremely fragile. Research showed that once the eggs left the body and were exposed to air, they died within five minutes. In other words, if they didn't find a new host quickly, they naturally deactivated.
It was precisely based on this trait that the government chose not to seal off the entire Kanto region. The main highways, railways, and expressway exits around Tokyo were all under Self-Defense Force-controlled checkpoints; anyone who made it there, whether on foot or by car, had endured at least several minutes of travel. That meant, if they could still reach the checkpoint or drive to the exit, they hadn't been fully infected along the way, the eggs they'd carried would have died in the air by then, and any inside their body would have hatched and taken effect in the first minute, making it impossible for them to run that far. For this reason, the government declared a full lockdown unnecessary.
Of course, there were plenty of people online who firmly believed the government was lying. However, Ayn didn't see it that way. In his view, even if the government was hiding some things, the core information about the "parasite," "turning into a zombie in sixty seconds," and "eggs dying within five minutes of exposure to air" should be genuine.
Why did he think so? Because a quick look at the government's actions made it clear—their decisions were built directly on these conclusions. If it were all lies, the government wouldn't risk opening evacuation routes from the Kanto region; they'd opt for a total lockdown, barring anyone from leaving. The fact that they believed these research results themselves was exactly why they dared to let people flee Tokyo. To Ayn, this proved they weren't lying.
Of course, this zombie pandemic wasn't unique to Japan, it had erupted almost simultaneously across the globe. Governments worldwide handled it differently, and not every country followed Japan's approach of "allowing people to leave outbreak cities":
Some nations took similar measures, opening evacuation routes but setting up police or military checkpoints along the way; others chose full lockdowns, forbidding anyone to leave and even ordering troops to fire on those trying to break through. Still others enforced extremely strict screening, permitting exit only if the government deemed you "completely safe." And in some areas, especially poorer African countries, governments were utterly powerless to control things—the military and officials had already fled first, leaving civilians to fend for themselves.
Ayn had seen all this in online news reports. Surveying the world's pandemic strategies, he couldn't help but feel quietly relieved that at least he was in Tokyo, able to leave without clashing with the police. As for those other countries' approaches, he didn't bother thinking too much about them or judging them. To him, the idea was simple: (I'm not the president, prime minister, or some national leader, what's the point of worrying about that crap? Just stay alive, take care of my family, that's plenty.)
It was because of this idea that, compared to the pandemic strategies of various countries, Ayn was more concerned about his own next steps. Speaking of next steps, one thing had to be mentioned. Originally, Ayn had planned to pick up Ari in Osaka and fly back home together, but with how events had unfolded, that plan was now completely unfeasible.
Why? Because ever since the zombies appeared, countries around the world had successively shut down their airports, and Japan and China were no exceptions. Now, even if Ayn and Ari had tickets in hand, they still couldn't go back. As for when flights might reopen, that depended on decisions from both governments—and given the current situation, who knew when that would be.
This left Ayn feeling deeply frustrated; he still desperately wanted to return home and hand over the system to his mother and the others. But fortunately, his hometown wasn't an outbreak zone—the nearest infected city was still hundreds of kilometers away—which gave him at least a little comfort in his heart. He decided to wait and see; if the government delayed reopening the airports and restoring flights, then he'd find his own way back.
So, what was Ayn's so-called "way"? He had no intention of asking Aya's grandfather for help, using the old man's connections to get him back to the country. Why not? For two reasons. First, Ayn believed that even Aya's grandfather's influence, no matter how strong, was ultimately limited. After all, this involved two nations—if he could get clearance for takeoff in Japan, what about China? If they didn't approve the landing, all the effort would be for nothing. Second, even without relying on anyone's connections, Ayn had his own method to return home, so he saw no need to drag others into it. The more people involved, the higher the risk of drawing attention—and what he least wanted was to be noticed by "big shots." After all, he carried secrets that couldn't be exposed.
As for his method of getting back... it was actually quite simple: walk there himself. Starting from Osaka, head to Kyushu, then swim across the Tsushima Strait, pass through Jeju Island in Korea, and cross the Yellow Sea to reach Shandong in China. From there, whether along railways or highways, on foot or by car... in short, he'd find a way to make it back home. Of course, along the route, he'd have to avoid police, military, and surveillance cameras as much as possible—he didn't want the government discovering that someone "supposed to stay in Japan" had somehow appeared in China.
As for things like walking, swimming, or crossing vast seas that sounded nearly impossible, they were indeed challenges for ordinary people, but for a Transcendent, they weren't so daunting. In fact, Ayn didn't even need to swim, because he could use Transcendent energy to stand on the ocean surface and run across it. In his current state, he could easily maintain a speed of 55 km/h (about 15.2 m/s) for 72 hours straight without rest. And in combat mode, if high-speed movement was required, his speed could even reach 25 m/s. Perhaps such speeds couldn't match planes or high-speed trains, but the key was that he could accomplish all this with just his own two legs—and that alone was already absurd enough.
In short, Ayn wasn't without ways to return home; it was just that those methods were last resorts. If possible, he preferred to act like an ordinary person, taking a plane or ship back in the most normal, legal way. That way, he could appear before everyone openly, without worrying about police suddenly knocking on his door one day to say, "Please come with us."
Of course, Ayn also shared this idea with his lover, Aya. Aya agreed with the "last resort" plan too. She wasn't naive; she knew full well what consequences would come if the secrets Ayn hid were exposed. Troubles of that level couldn't be solved with money or connections...
Though Ayn and Aya prepared for the worst, their current goal was still Osaka. The troubles they encountered on the road weren't just traffic jams and police checkpoints—there was the more practical issue of fuel. And they refueled multiple times along the way, not just once or twice. Why? The reason was simple: to let more people get gas, gas stations everywhere had implemented purchase limits, with very restricted amounts per vehicle. Because of this, whenever they passed a less crowded gas station, Aya would stop to queue up for fuel. Even if the line wasn't long, they'd still wait about thirty minutes to get their turn, after all, there were just too many people refueling.
In fact, it wasn't just gas stations—the whole society had fallen into panic. People were frantically rushing to supermarkets to stockpile supplies. Ari far away in Osaka, as well as his mother and Ana back home, had joined this trend too. Everyone understood that now wasn't the time to save money. Otherwise, when hunger struck or even toilet paper became unobtainable, it would be too late.
Of course, many supermarkets and stores had been forced to close amid the chaos, leading to outbreaks of looting, smashing, and arson. When passing a rest stop, Ayn and Aya witnessed this firsthand: the convenience store's glass was shattered to pieces, shelves empty as could be, the fridge's drinks swept clean. The ground still showed undried bloodstains, making it easy to imagine that people had fought fiercely over supplies here. As for the police... unfortunately, they didn't see any. Perhaps because police resources were stretched too thin, law enforcement could only prioritize more important matters.
It was precisely because of seeing such scenes that Ayn began to worry about Aya's grandfather. Though the old man was wealthy, in times like these, money wasn't omnipotent. Plus, with his advanced age and living alone in Kobe, his only family Aya not by his side, it was hard not to feel uneasy. Ayn couldn't help thinking: if the old man went to a supermarket for groceries and got caught in a shopping frenzy or stampede, the consequences would be unthinkable.
Hearing Ayn's concerns, Aya's heart warmed instead. Aya understood that it was because Ayn loved Aya that he cared about her family. So, she comforted Ayn not to worry too much. Aya explained that her grandfather often hosted big shots at home, with a dedicated kitchen and chefs, and they always kept plenty of ingredients stocked.
But upon hearing this, Ayn felt something off and asked her: "Just how big is your grandfather's house?"
The answer was—a Japanese-style building covering about 3,500 square meters, and located in one of Kobe's most bustling districts. Hearing this, Ayn was utterly shocked. Because he knew full well what owning a 3,500 sqm mansion in such an area meant: several billion, even tens of billions of yen wouldn't be surprising. So, Aya added an explanation: that house was actually an old family home inherited from her mother, just rebuilt once later. Though it required paying considerable property taxes each year, it was still within bearable limits. After hearing this explanation, Ayn finally eased the shock in his heart a bit.
In short, Aya told him not to worry. Even if the house lacked something, one phone call would be enough to have it delivered. There was absolutely no need to squeeze into supermarkets for panic buying like ordinary people, even in times like these. After all, if all those years of building connections couldn't handle something this small, they would've been for nothing. Hearing that, Ayn found her words reasonable and finally relaxed.