The final stretch of the road leading north of Nam An was steeper than the rest. The streets grew sparse, the houses lower, replaced by old concrete roads that hugged the rocky slopes. The wind carried the distinct saltiness of the sea upward, sweeping across billboards that had snapped in half.
Thuong Sinh led the way.
He didn't need a map.
He turned onto an old trail where the rusted iron railings had nearly rotted away. Zombies in this area were significantly fewer—not because it was safe, but because there was nothing to draw them here. There was only the wind, the rocks, and the void.
At the end of the road was a cliff. Below, the Nam An sea stretched out in a vast expanse of blue. The waves were not large, but they struck the base of the cliff with a rhythmic, low rumble, like a steady breath.
Lam Thanh Moc stopped when she saw the view.
"...It's beautiful."
She spoke softly, as if afraid to shatter the stillness of the place.
Thuong Sinh did not reply. He stood near the edge of the cliff, the wind lightly tossing his hair. This was not the first time he had stood here; on the contrary, it was all too familiar.
"In the past, whenever I needed peace, I would come here," he said quietly.
It wasn't to remember or to cry; it was simply that there were no people here.
Thuong Sinh sat on the rocky edge, letting his legs hang loose. He removed his gloves and set them aside, letting the sea breeze blow directly against his calloused palms.
Lam Thanh Moc said nothing, sitting beside him and letting herself relax as well.
Thuong Sinh spoke slowly: "If one day I don't return, this place will remain just like this."
Lam Thanh Moc tilted her head slightly to look at him. She didn't ask why, nor did she tell him not to say such things. She simply waited a moment before saying: "Then, at least for today, you are still here."
Thuong Sinh paused.
It was a very light sentence, yet it left him no room to retreat. He didn't turn to look at her, staring only at the sea.
"I'm not good at being around others."
"I know."
"And the path I walk…"
"I know that, too."
Lam Thanh Moc placed her hand on the cold stone beside him. She didn't touch him, but the space between them was no longer empty.
They sat in silence, watching the waves roll in. The sky gradually shifted to a pale orange, while the sea remained unchanged.
Thuong Sinh stood up first.
"Let's go."
Lam Thanh Moc looked at him. She didn't ask where they were heading; she just stood up and followed. This time, it wasn't because she was being pulled along, but because she chose to walk.
The sea breeze grew stronger as the sun touched the horizon. Thuong Sinh slowed his pace, as if unwilling to break the rhythm of the quiet that had just formed.
Leaving the trail, the old concrete road led them down a high curve. From here, one could see half of Nam An city lying low behind them, its rooftops shrouded in mist.
Thuong Sinh stopped.
"Tomorrow," he said, his voice neither loud nor soft but clear enough for Lam Thanh Moc behind him to hear perfectly. "I will leave Nam An."
Lam Thanh Moc showed no surprise. She only gave a soft "mhm," as if she had heard this coming long ago, and it was only today that the words were finally spoken.
"Where do you want to go?" she asked.
"I don't know yet."
The answer was so blunt it required no concealment. Thuong Sinh looked into the distance, where the old national highway stretched into a faint black line between rocky hills and forest.
"When I was a child, I used to think that if I could keep walking forever, I would find peaceful places just like this. No people, no voices calling out—only the wind and the earth beneath my feet."
He paused for a moment.
"Later, I realized that whether you can walk or not isn't the point. What matters is whether you dare to walk."
Lam Thanh Moc slowed her steps, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him.
"And now, do you dare?"
Thuong Sinh didn't answer immediately. A moment later, he nodded slightly.
"Yes."
It wasn't an impulsive decision, nor was it a flight. It was, finally, an acceptance that he could not stand still forever, no matter how peaceful the place might be.
He turned to continue.
"We must leave this area before it gets completely dark."
Lam Thanh Moc followed half a step behind, then closed the distance to walk parallel with him.
"I will go with you," she said softly.
It wasn't a request for permission, nor was it a promise. It was a calm affirmation.
Thuong Sinh didn't look at her, but his pace slowed by exactly one beat, enough for them to walk at the same speed.
Behind them, the Nam An sea gradually sank into darkness. Ahead, the old road led out of the city, stretching into the dying light of dusk.
The road leaving Nam An sloped downward and then flattened out. As the twilight faded, the city behind became a patch of darkness lost in the sea mist.
They walked in silence for a long time.
It wasn't a forced silence. It was the kind where each person knew the other was there, and so no words were needed.
Passing the fractured concrete section, the ground turned to sand and gravel. An old rest stop appeared by the road; its canopy tilted sharply to one side, the long bench was missing two legs, and the directional sign was faded, with only the northward arrow still legible.
Thuong Sinh stopped.
"We'll rest here tonight."
Lam Thanh Dao nodded. She had become accustomed to his concise decisions and lack of redundant explanations.
He performed a quick check of the surroundings. There was no smell of the living dead, no dragging footprints—only the sound of insects and the wind. It was safe enough for the time being.
The fire wasn't large, just a small flame enough to warm their hands.
Lam Thanh Moc sat down first, leaning her back against a post of the station. The firelight reflected on her face, softening her usual features.
Thuong Sinh sat opposite her, at a proper distance. He wiped his sword blade, his movements slow—a habit deeply ingrained in him.
"Tomorrow we head north, through the edge of the stone forest, into the dead lands."
"There are no bases in that sector."
"No."
"There are no people there."
"No."
Lam Thanh Moc looked at him for a long time. "Then why go?"
Thuong Sinh stopped his hand. "Because there are no people."
The answer was short, almost a trademark of his character. After a moment, he continued, his voice lower: "I need to confirm a few things. About myself. And about the thing inside me."
Lam Thanh Moc didn't ask further; she understood what he was referring to.
"I won't force you, but if you step back... I will be the one who sees it."
The fire flickered.
Thuong Sinh looked up at her. This time, he didn't avoid her gaze.
"That is enough."
The night passed slowly. The wind lost its saltiness, carrying the scent of dry earth from the North. Far off, a zombie roar echoed and then died out completely, as if swallowed by the void.
When the fire had nearly burned out, Thuong Sinh stood up.
"Go to sleep. I'll keep watch."
Lam Thanh Moc didn't argue. She softly closed her eyes, but before sleeping, she said very quietly: "You aren't walking alone anymore."
Thuong Sinh didn't answer, but as she slept, he didn't sit with his back to her as he usually did. He sat half a step away from her, back straight, legs crossed, sword resting across his thighs. He wasn't exactly forcing his cultivation method, but simply letting the True Essence flow naturally.
In his sea of consciousness, the blood essence was still there—no longer rioting as before, but not submissive either. It coiled against his meridians, carrying a sense of weight and coldness. Every time he brushed against it, there was a faint metallic, bloody scent.
He didn't push it; he only maintained his distance.
It was the only way not to break his promise.
One second, two seconds. He opened his second layer of perception—no longer looking with eyes, but with instinct. The wind shifted direction; the insects ceased their calling for an instant, then resumed. There was no unusual movement around, no one approaching.
Safe.
The blood essence within him vibrated slightly, seemingly dissatisfied. It was used to being unleashed, used to the scent of blood and death. But this time, it was held back.
Pain.
But it wasn't physical pain; it was a dull ache, like an old habit forgotten and never repeated.
Thuong Sinh frowned slightly.
"Not yet."
An hour passed, and he opened his eyes.
Lam Thanh Moc was sleeping peacefully, neither frowning nor trembling. The night wind blew a few stray hairs across her cheek. The thin moonlight shone on her face, making her look like a stranger to the apocalypse—like someone simply resting on a journey.
Thuong Sinh watched for a moment and then looked away. It wasn't for fear of softening his heart, but because he knew that if he looked longer, the blood essence within him might misunderstand.
He continued his vigil until the sky turned from black to pale gray. He stood up, sheathed his sword at his hip in its familiar position, and extinguished the fire.
Lam Thanh Moc opened her eyes at that exact moment.
"Shift change?" she asked, her voice a bit hoarse from sleep.
"No need."
"You didn't rest."
"I'm used to it."
She looked at him, not with reproach, but simply asked: "Continuing?"
Thuong Sinh nodded.
To the North, the mist was thicker, the land more barren, and the road ahead bore no further traces of a city.
He stepped forward—not to hide this time, but to see how far he could go without relying on the toxic blood within him.
The northward road leaving Nam An was no longer smooth.
The asphalt was cracked into chunks, with wild weeds growing in between; many sections had collapsed right to the edge of the ravine. In the distance, the city was merely a hazy gray strip swallowed by the morning mist, as if it had never truly existed.
Thuong Sinh slowed his pace slightly—not out of vigilance, but because he was regulating his breath. Every footfall was conscious; every time his foot touched the ground, it drew a small current of True Essence through his body. No showing off, no accelerating—simply keeping his meridians open without overloading them.
Cultivating on the road.
Lam Thanh Moc, walking half a step behind him, noticed this. His walking rhythm was extremely steady, unlike someone traveling, but more like someone suppressing something within their body.
She didn't ask, quietly adjusting her pace to match his.
The sea breeze weakened, replaced by a dry, cold air. On both sides of the road, old traces began to appear: abandoned gas stations, directional signs, and several overturned cars.
Thuong Sinh stopped before a bend. He raised his hand to signal a halt. There was no sound, no bloodstains. But the ground ahead had deep indentations—not from a collapse, but as if a very heavy object had stood still there for a long time.
"People," he said in a low voice.
"Or something like people?" she asked.
"People."
Thuong Sinh offered no further explanation. He knelt down, placing his hand on the indentation, pressing lightly with his fingertips.
The earth had begun to harden; it wasn't a trace created in the last few minutes, but something that had been here for a long time—long enough for the weight to compress the concrete road surface before leaving.
Lam Thanh Moc looked around. The abandoned gas station ahead was charred black, the sign snapped sideways, and several cars lay on their backs with doors wide open. But all of it was old; there were no signs of recent activity.
"So there are people living here?" she asked.
"Not exactly. People passing through. And not just one." Thuong Sinh stood up.
On the ground, there were very light dragging marks—not deep enough to form a groove, as if something had been pulled along, but the person pulling had intentionally avoided leaving clear tracks.
"Organized. They know how to hide."
Lam Thanh Moc felt a chill down her spine.
"Could ordinary people do this?"
"Not ordinary people, but not something else either," he said.
"People who are accustomed to killing."
The atmosphere between them grew somber. There were no roars, no smell of blood, but the silence ahead was heavier than any zombie.
Thuong Sinh placed his hand on his sword hilt. He didn't unwrap the bandages but gripped the handle firmly.
"Stay close to me. This time, don't move more than half a step away," he said.
Lam Thanh Moc nodded, asking no more.
The two continued forward, but at a slower pace, step by step, as if entering a place where something was waiting.