Near dawn, a thin mist descended. The oil lamps gradually flickered out, leaving only the sound of wind whistling through distorted sheets of corrugated iron and the breathing of those who slept late and had not yet awakened.
Thuong Sinh still stood at the edge of the camp.
As a streak of light appeared in the eastern sky, he had already wrapped his sword and strapped it to his hip, rotating his wrists to dispel the stiffness in his joints. Last night, nothing had dared to approach. The traces remaining outside the fence had vanished, as if the darkness itself understood its boundaries.
He began to walk back into the camp.
Lam Thanh Moc had awakened at some point and was sitting by a water barrel, washing her face with cold water. Her Ability was retracted so tightly it was almost imperceptible, but her eyes were alert.
"No movement?" she asked softly.
"No."
"They avoided us."
The two said nothing more; this was not the first time, nor would it be the last.
A while later, a stir arose within the camp. People woke up, some packed their belongings, and a few eyes glanced furtively at Thuong Sinh before quickly turning away. No one asked how the night had been, for the result lay right there in the peaceful outcome.
Thuong Sinh took his backpack and performed a quick check: water, dry rations, canned goods, flashlight—nothing extra, nothing missing.
"Straight out?" Lam Thanh Moc asked.
"Yes."
"No need to report."
Leaving the camp, the scenery changed. Abandoned factories, charred cars tilted by the roadside, and the asphalt of the highway cracked like scars. The wind blew past, carrying the smell of dust, dry oil, and the faint scent of blood.
Lam Thanh Moc walked one step behind him. The vines surrounding them vibrated from the wind as they were touched by something, and she spoke softly.
"On the right, movement."
Thuong Sinh changed direction, moving diagonally toward the middle of the highway. His footsteps remained steady, and his hand rested on his sword hilt, not yet drawn.
An overturned truck lay ahead.
From beneath the chassis, a dark shadow slowly slithered out—not screaming, not lunging. Gray, cracked skin, an unnaturally protruding spine, and nails scratching lightly against the road surface, producing an unpleasant grating sound.
Low-tier mutated zombie.
Thuong Sinh did not need to use sword intent or Sword Kinesis. He shifted half his body, and "Phantom Steps" flickered for only a second—not leaving a clear afterimage, but enough to cause the opponent to misjudge. The zombie lunged and missed, its center of gravity shifting at that exact moment.
The sword was unleashed—no light, no sound of tearing wind. Just an absolute straight line. The blade glided close to the zombie's neck, not slashing across but piercing from the throat down through the heart, then yanking upward, shattering the entire nervous system. The movement was seamless, without redundancy.
The mutated zombie jerked violently, its nails scratching the road with a piercing shriek, then its body stiffened and collapsed onto the concrete.
Thuong Sinh retracted his sword and stepped over the corpse without looking back. Out of habit, he wiped the bloodstains from the blade before re-wrapping it and placing it at his hip.
He glanced back at the highway. It was too clean—not clean in the sense of having no zombies, but clean by design. Old corpses had been dragged away from the shoulder, and several tire tracks overlapped—not fresh, but not too old either.
"Someone went before us."
"Quite a few," Thuong Sinh replied. "They know how to handle tracks, but not neatly enough."
He changed direction, no longer walking in the middle of the highway but instead following the emergency lane, where charred cars blocked the line of sight. Each step was placed precisely, creating no echoes.
The two traveled about another two hundred meters.
Lam Thanh Moc suddenly stopped.
"There's the smell of blood," she said softly. "Less than an hour old."
Thuong Sinh signaled a halt. The entire space seemed to settle. Ahead, behind a pile of crashed cars, there was the sound of rapid, suppressed breathing. It wasn't a zombie; the rhythm was irregular, conscious, and filled with fear.
He did not draw his sword, simply taking a step forward to reveal himself in the murky morning light.
"Come out," Thuong Sinh said. "Or I will treat you as enemies."
Silence lasted for three seconds, then someone stood up.
There were only three of them: two men and one woman, holding homemade weapons. The man in the lead had a long scar across his cheek—old but distinct. His gaze was vigilant but showed no signs of frenzy.
"...We don't mean to cause trouble," the scarred man said. "Just scavenging."
Thuong Sinh looked directly at him—not at his face, but his stance. His legs were not shaking, and his hand was not over-tightening around his weapon. His eyes constantly flicked to the left, not looking directly at Lam Thanh Moc.
"Scavenge quickly then," Thuong Sinh said calmly. "This highway isn't safe."
The man was silent for a moment.
"Is a zombie horde moving?" he asked.
"No."
"People."
The answer was very short.
The scarred man chuckled softly.
"Then it truly is unsafe."
He took a step back and signaled to the two behind him.
"Thank you. We will steer clear."
The three retreated very quickly, not looking back and asking no further questions.
He and Lam Thanh Moc continued. The eastern highway opened up before them, stretching like a giant crack in the earth. Far off, a thin column of smoke rose—very faint, nearly blending into the mist.
"There's a place ahead," Lam Thanh Moc said.
"Yeah."
"Let's go over and see."
The highway gradually narrowed as it approached an old interchange. Broken road signs hung tilted, the letters faded, but the arrows still pointed in one direction:
Inter-Provincial Service Area
A place once crowded with people, now only concrete and swaying dark shadows.
Thuong Sinh stopped on an overpass. From here, one could see clearly below. Underneath was a group of survivors of considerable scale, nearly double the size of Kinh Bac Camp. Containers were arranged in an arc, trucks blocked the path, and there were watchtowers crudely built of steel and wood. Smoke rose without concealment, proving they were not afraid of being discovered.
"Not a drifter camp," Lam Thanh Moc said. "Organized."
"Yeah," Thuong Sinh replied. "There is a master here."
He observed very closely. The guards did not wander aimlessly; the patrol lines were fixed. Some even carried rifles. Most importantly, the atmosphere was not chaotic—no one was screaming, and there were no scenes of infighting.
"At least it's not a cannibal den," she said.
"But it doesn't look friendly either," he replied.
The two began to head down, neither hiding nor evading. Walking straight, they hadn't reached a hundred meters before three people blocked their path. They didn't raise their guns immediately, but their hands were ready as if they could attack at any sign of trouble.
"Halt!" one called out loudly. "State your purpose."
Thuong Sinh stood still.
"Passing through. Not causing trouble."
The guard looked at him, then glanced at Lam Thanh Moc. His gaze lingered for a long time on Thuong Sinh's cloth-wrapped sword.
"People don't pass through during the day."
"Especially not just two people."
"Nighttime is even more of a nuisance," Thuong Sinh said. "I don't like making noise."
The atmosphere was as tense as a wire, but just then, a deep voice rang out from behind: "Let them in."
A man stepped out from the guard unit, about forty years old, with a sturdy build. His gaze was very calm—neither aggressive nor weak. He looked at Thuong Sinh for a long time.
"Are you from Kinh Bac?" he asked.
"No."
"Last night, it was you."
It wasn't a question, but a statement. Thuong Sinh did not deny it.
The man nodded.
"I am Ly Thuong Kiet."
"The camp manager."
"This place is Dong Kinh Camp."
He turned around.
"Let them in."
No one objected as they stepped through the gate. Lam Thanh Moc could clearly feel that the eyes around them were not filled with curiosity, but with evaluation. Everyone was accustomed to weighing the value of others.
Ly Thuong Kiet led them inside.
"Stay for a few days," he said bluntly. "No commitments."
"The cost?"
"In exchange, if there is trouble, you will act."
Thuong Sinh looked at him for a moment.
"Aren't you afraid of me?"
Ly Thuong Kiet smiled faintly.
"Someone who dares to stand at the edge of the camp all night is more trustworthy than someone laughing in the firelight."
That single sentence made Thuong Sinh break into a laugh.
Lam Thanh Moc stood by, stunned; this was the first time she had seen him laugh with someone else.
Ly Thuong Kiet saw the smile and merely smirked very slightly, as if he had expected it.
"Did I say something wrong?" he asked.
"No. It's just..." He paused for a beat, the smile quickly fading, returning to his familiar coldness. "It's been a long time since anyone looked at another person that way."
"Which way?" Ly Thuong Kiet asked.
"Not looking to see how much they can be exploited."
"But looking to see how long they can stand."
The atmosphere around them softened significantly.
Ly Thuong Kiet asked no more, only turning to continue leading the way. They walked through the central container area, where people were distributing rations, repairing vehicles, and lighting stoves. Everything was not noisy, yet it was not a false peace—this was the kind of order built with sweat and fear.
"This camp doesn't lack strong people," Ly Thuong Kiet said as he walked. "But it lacks people who know when to stay their hand."
He stopped before a separate container area, cleared of surroundings, not too far from the center and not too close to the gate.
"Here."
"No one will bother you, but no one will protect you either."
Thuong Sinh looked around once and nodded.
"It's enough."
Ly Thuong Kiet turned to Lam Thanh Moc.
"You use a plant-based Ability, correct?"
She was slightly surprised but still nodded.
"Don't be too obvious," he said directly. "In here, anything too useful is easily targeted."
"I know," she replied.
Ly Thuong Kiet turned to leave, but before departing fully, he stopped without turning back.
"Tonight."
"No need to go out."
"If something happens, I will send someone to call you."
Thuong Sinh watched that departing back but did not answer.
When they were alone, Lam Thanh Moc spoke softly: "You, just now…"
"Yeah," Thuong Sinh interrupted. "I laughed."
"Because of him?" she asked.
He was silent for a moment.
"Because he looked at me like a human being."
"Not as a weapon."
Lam Thanh Moc looked at him, her gaze softening.
"Then stay here," she said gently. "At least, you don't need to lock yourself down so tightly."
Thuong Sinh didn't reply immediately. He looked toward the camp, where the cooking fires were rising and survivors were walking back and forth, each carrying stories they hadn't yet had the chance to tell.
"It's only temporary, but enough to breathe," he said.
The evening wind blew through the container area, carrying the scent of thin food and oil smoke. A rare ordinary evening, with no roars and no fresh blood.