This fear seed to make him forget the shadows cast by the zombie horde. Even the term "Zombie King" beca flat and insignificant in his mind. Panic began to creep in, and for a fleeting mont, he had an impulse to return to the Sanctuary City. Just like the broadcaster had said—to pick up a weapon and fight the zombies on the battlefield! Even if he died, it wouldn’t matter. He would no longer fear death!
This might be what they call courage—a courage that planted such thoughts in his mind. But this impulse was quickly suppressed by him. Reflecting on his life, he considered himself to be an ordinary person, one of many millions of insignificant souls. He’d never thought that he would ever do anything great. He lived an average life and expected to die just as ordinarily. A hundred years from now, no one would rember that a man once called "Ghost Head" had ever existed.
The traces of his existence would be slowly erased by the passage of ti!
To act like a hero and do the things they did just because of fearlessness in his heart? That clearly wasn’t a choice soone like him would make.
He quelled the impulse within. It was preposterous. All he wanted was to start over again at the White Wing Base—what was this sense of dying for justice about? Ridiculous!
Thinking this, he allowed a faint self-mocking smile to surface on his face before closing his eyes. But for so reason, even though he had abandoned the idea, a subtle regret lingered. It felt as if, deep in his subconscious, another self was chattering endlessly, leaving him uncertain of what to do.
The night was deep, and the stars sparkled brilliantly. Light from the stars and moon seeped faintly through the closed windows like a thin veil, lending the room a hint of tranquility. Yet Ghost Head couldn’t sleep. He would close his eyes, only to reopen them monts later. He tossed and turned for a long ti before finally drifting off unknowingly soti in the dead of night.
Ti always flew by in dreams. When Ghost Head opened his eyes again, sunlight was filtering through the cracks.
His eyes darted around and caught sight of Yong. He was standing at the door—not opening it or moving—just standing there. At the first glimpse of him, Ghost Head was startled. Sothing about his posture stirred unpleasant mories. During the early days of the post-apocalyptic outbreak, when Ghost Head went searching for supplies and returned to his residence, he once saw a zombie standing at his door in exactly the sa manner!
At that ti, if he had been even slightly distracted, he probably would have ended up as one of the many zombies roaming the ruins of the city.
"Yong?"
He called Yong’s na. The other man slowly turned his head and looked at him.
"What’s wrong with you?"
Seeing that Yong’s face showed no signs of being zombified, Ghost Head let out a sigh of relief.
Yong didn’t answer his question. He just shook his head and quietly walked to the corner of the room, where he sat cross-legged.
"You didn’t sleep last night?"
"No..."
"Aren’t you tired?"
"Not really..."
Yong’s tone was as stiff as ever, as if he had just learned to speak the language. His responses to Ghost Head’s questions carried a pronounced awkwardness. Ghost Head wasn’t sure why Yong spoke like this, nor had he ever tried to investigate Yong’s abnormality. Shaking his head, he walked to the window to check the situation outside.
It wasn’t just one Level 7 zombie chasing them yesterday—there was also an endless zombie horde. If luck was against them, the horde might have already caught up by now.
He casually pried open one of the wooden planks. The scenery outside remained unchanged. No zombies in sight. Ghost Head breathed a sigh of relief. It seed the zombie horde wasn’t as persistent as that Level 7 zombie. When they couldn’t catch up, they simply gave up.
Soon, Ghost Head’s movents woke up Brother Shi and Crooked Neck from their sleep. Crooked Neck groggily opened his eyes, as if confirming he was still alive, and asked Ghost Head, "Day two?"
"Yeah." Ghost Head nodded and glanced back at Crooked Neck. It was obvious the guy had had an unpleasant dream last night.
Looking around, Crooked Neck also got up and began packing the items on the ground. The first thing Brother Shi did upon waking was check his phone to confirm the ti.
The screen displayed 7:51 a.m., nine minutes shy of eight. Their waking ti wasn’t too late.
"Pack up—let’s head out soon."
Despite having just woken up, Crooked Neck was already urging them impatiently. The others didn’t seem to mind his haste. They weren’t planning to linger here for long anyway. The sooner they reached the White Wing Base, the better.
Brother Shi zoned out briefly before opening his phone’s entertainnt app. While organizing his clothes, he watched the latest updates from the Dangerous Sanctuary City.
[Due to a significant number of soldiers being deployed to the zombie horde defense efforts, the Dangerous Sanctuary City now faces a severe shortage of manpower for law enforcent. In just one night, thousands of criminal incidents occurred within the city. So have called it a breeding ground for evil. We can see many people packing their belongings and leaving the city. Additionally, the east, south, and north gates of the anti-zombie wall are unguarded...]
At first, Brother Shi paid little attention. But as he finished dressing, one particular piece of news caught his eye. Squinting, he stared at the video content. The scene was familiar—a view of one of the four gates leading out of the Dangerous Sanctuary City, specifically the east gate. Through the video, one could see countless people dragging their families, carrying bulky bags, and fleeing. Just as the comntary described, the east gate was unguarded. Those escaping to other locations faced no obstacles, nor were those entering the city stopped. The scene was chaos. So people wielded laser weapons, intercepting survivors from certain bases and looting their food and other essentials!
The soft "swoosh, swoosh" sounds of laser weapon discharges could occasionally be heard. Several unlucky victims collapsed to the ground, screaming in agony. Just as reported, the Dangerous Sanctuary City had truly beco a breeding ground for evil. Without the restraints of societal shackles, morality and order had once again collapsed!
Aside from the reporter filming the video, several other journalists were present. But two of them weren’t so lucky. After looting the supplies of other survivors, a group of ard bandits shifted their focus to the journalists. They seized their equipnt and supplies before wordlessly gunning them down. Witnessing the fate of his peers, the reporter capturing the footage hastily ran away to avoid a similar end.
Brother Shi didn’t concern himself with whether these journalists or survivors lived or died. What occupied his thoughts now was the realization: If they decided to return to the Dangerous Sanctuary City, would it an encountering the sa lack of defenses?
"If we go back now, no one’s likely to check us, right?"
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