That mid-tier zombie was not afraid of bullets at all.
A shot hit its chest; it only faltered for a second and then continued charging, slamming directly into a container. The metal distorted, and a person was flung away, their head hitting the iron box without time to even scream.
"Cannot block it, fall back further—!"
The second line's formation broke.
Screams and gunshots mingled together. The stench of blood spread very quickly. The survivors inside the camp watched the defensive lines before them in panic, the crowd packed tightly inside looking outward.
Thuong Sinh and Lam Thanh Moc had also been standing there from the beginning. He did not act, he did not speak; he only watched. He watched how humans resisted, watched who fled and who held their position. He watched to see where the true boundary of this camp lay.
Lam Thanh Moc stood beside him, her hands trembling slightly.
"It's not good..." she said softly. "If that thing breaks this line—"
Thud—!
The mid-tier zombie tore through the edge of the container, half of its body crawling inside. A person was dragged out, their cries never-ending.
Thuong Sinh closed his eyes for a second, then opened them.
"Alright, I must keep the agreement."
He stepped forward. The sword at his hip was drawn, the bandages sliding off completely. The moment he lunged in, the mid-tier zombie had no time to turn its head.
Thwack!
Sword intent carrying "Blade Wind" slashed diagonally from the neck to the shoulder. The force was not massive, but it was precise. Its large body stiffened, then split into two.
The zombie horde behind had no time to react, but not reacting did not mean stopping. Those in front were cut down; those behind immediately trampled the corpses, continuing to push forward. All that remained was the sound of dragging footsteps, the sound of claws scraping against metal and concrete, so thick it swallowed even the sound of gunfire.
Inside the second-line container, the surviving crowd froze for a second. They saw that the defensive line had truly been pierced.
"It's breached—!"
"They're inside!"
A soldier in panic pulled the trigger repeatedly, the magazine emptying completely without him even realizing. The fire-type ability user behind tried to force flames into a horizontal strip, but the zombie horde was too thick; the fire only burned the outer layer, and those behind still advanced.
Some began to retreat in the wrong direction; some were shoved down, immediately being dragged away.
Tran Tu Binh roared until his voice was hoarse: "Hold your positions! Do not break formation—!"
But the command no longer had enough power. He saw a shadow there. No one saw how he moved; they only saw an afterimage flash past them and plunge into the horde of zombies ahead.
"Phantom Steps"
The sword in Thuong Sinh's hand did not swing wide or strike with heavy blows. Each strike was short and neat, aimed exactly at the connection between the neck and shoulder, or the jaw joint.
Heads fell without making a loud noise, but they were many.
Blood splattered onto him, soaking through the Gale Leather Armor and dyeing it a brilliant red. Beneath his feet, the zombie corpses piled up higher and higher.
Everyone around was also continuously resisting, but only he took a step further with every kill, going deeper. The distance between him and the crowd stretched; around him, a circular void was created—anything that crossed the perimeter was killed.
However, beyond that circular perimeter, many zombies still managed to pass and lunge at the rear defensive line.
In the back, Lam Thanh Moc had dropped to one knee on the ground, her ability expanded to its limit. Vines formed a hardened defensive layer for the people behind. She bit her lip until it bled, her face turning pale.
Thuong Sinh was currently moving and killing like a phantom. In his mind, that voice was no longer whispering but screaming: Kill, kill them all.
He clenched his teeth.
A sword strike missed by half an inch, not deep enough. The charging zombie did not die instantly; its claws scratched a gash across his face.
Hot blood flowed out.
That voice chuckled softly.
Thuong Sinh let out a very low roar. His sword reversed, stabbing straight through the skull as blood splattered onto his face. The more he killed, the clearer the voice in his head became; the clearer it got, the heavier his hand became.
The battlefield had not slowed down at all.
The zombie horde in front was hollowed out by Thuong Sinh, but those behind immediately filled the gap as if an invisible hand were controlling them. They no longer lunged in chaos but were divided into layers: low-tier zombies pushed up as shields, with sturdier-bodied ones behind them.
Very far away, in the dark zone beyond the firelight, something was standing still. It did not advance, it did not retreat; it was only observing.
Thuong Sinh sensed it—not with his eyes, but through the rhythm of his kills. Every time he pushed a step deeper, the zombie horde in front shifted slightly—not enough for an ordinary person to notice, but enough to force him to kill more.
More, longer—the blood on him was no longer just zombie blood.
The gashes on his face, shoulder, and side—places that seemed insignificant—were silently unlocking something within his body. Hot blood fell, soaking into the Gale Leather Armor, only to be pulled back in by the very air within his body.
In his chest, a throb that did not belong to his heart began to ring out.
Thump— Thump—
The voice in his head was no longer screaming, but it whispered close to his ear every time he took a step.
Why do you still hold back? The blood is already out.
Thuong Sinh cut down three more, his body slowing down slightly.
In that slight moment, a zombie lunged from the left, its jaw abnormally wide. He dodged in time, but its claws still tore a gash across his neck, trailing a long streak of blood.
Deep purple blood fell to the ground. It did not spread; it evaporated.
In that moment—
"Vile Blood Heart-Corroding Art"
A thin mist of purple-black crept close to the ground as if possessing its own consciousness, crawling through iron gaps and over corpses, wrapping around the ankles of the zombies that had just lunged.
They stiffened simultaneously.
It wasn't because of immediate pain, but because their bodies no longer followed instinct. Under Thuong Sinh's skin, dark patterns of veins appeared vividly.
Each purple-black blood vessel stood out from the skin, tangled like rotting tree roots, spreading from his chest to his neck and then overflowing into both arms. Every time he inhaled, those patterns throbbed lightly as if breathing with him.
His eyes opened; his pupils contracted to the point of being nearly black dots, while the whites were dyed deep crimson. His gaze no longer focused on individuals but swept over the entire area as if looking at raw materials.
Deathly aura leaked from his pores—not spraying, not exploding. It was just a thin, heavy, corrosive layer of mist, making the air around him murky as if something were decomposing right inside the lungs of anyone who inhaled it.
At the second defensive line.
An ability user who had just cut down a zombie in front suddenly coughed violently, blood welling from the corners of his mouth.
"It wasn't me—!"
He took a step back, then realized in shock that the zombies in front of him were dissolving first.
They were rotting, as if life were being pulled straight from their forms.
Thuong Sinh walked forward, and wherever he passed, zombies automatically collapsed in rows. A low-tier zombie lunged from the side, mouth wide, teeth jagged.
He did not dodge. He placed his hand on its forehead. At the moment of contact, the deathly aura seeped in. The zombie's skin bulged, then deflated as if sucked hollow. Black veins appeared on its skin, throbbing wildly before shattering from within. In less than three seconds, its entire body collapsed into a heap of gray sludge, formless.
Thuong Sinh retracted his hand; his palm was not stained with blood.
The voice in his head laughed softly, very satisfied.
Correct. No need to count. No need to distinguish.
Suddenly, another mid-tier zombie appeared before him, its body taller, shoulder bones protruding significantly.
It roared, but before it could lunge—
Thuong Sinh was already standing before it. His blood-red eyes, with a black point at the center, stared intently at it. The mid-tier zombie took a step back. Its instinct screamed of danger, but the remote controlling will forced it forward.
Thuong Sinh wiped the blood from his neck with his hand, saying nothing. He began to vanish before the mid-tier zombie, leaving only two flickering afterimages.
"Phantom Steps"
He glided before the zombie, placing his hand on its forehead. The thick, deep purple blood touched its skin, causing its body to freeze. Its pupils contracted violently. Its flesh was directly corroded; veins rose like black tree roots. Its entire body bulged, then fell, disintegrating into nothing but gray ash.
The zombies behind faltered—not out of fear, but because the link was lost.
Very far away, in even deeper darkness, the thing controlling them wavered for the first time. A cold will swept across the battlefield, locking onto Thuong Sinh.
Thuong Sinh also sensed it and stopped. He raised his head, his blood-red eyes catching a blurred point. The corner of his mouth curved into a very slight smile, and then he walked.
"It's your turn."
Lam Thanh Moc, watching his back from behind, felt her heart tighten. Her ability trembled—not out of fear of zombies, but because she knew that if he took one more step without being pulled back, the thing that returned might no longer be Thuong Sinh.
The deathly aura had not yet dissipated.
It swirled around Thuong Sinh like a thin mist clinging to his skin, not diffusing, yet refusing to retract. The dark veins on his neck still throbbed lightly with every beat. His gaze pierced straight toward the deeper darkness where the link had just been touched by him.
Just one more step.
That voice was no longer screaming; it whispered close to his ear, very calmly. No need to hurry. You have already seen it. Kill it... then everything will be quiet.
Thuong Sinh lifted his foot.
In that exact moment—
"Enough!"
Lam Thanh Moc's voice tore through the wind.
She did not call his name, for she knew calling his name now would be useless. Her ability erupted.
Not attacking vines, but like a life boundary—pale green tree roots rose from the ground, locking Thuong Sinh's ankles. Not squeezing, not causing pain, only holding him still.
Thuong Sinh froze. He turned his head. His deep crimson gaze landed on her.
It wasn't killing intent, but a moment of emptiness, as if he were looking at something very far away, very familiar, but unsure if he still belonged to it.
"Thanh Moc..."
His voice was hoarse, unlike the voice from just now. She had reached the front of him; though her hands shook, her footsteps did not retreat.
"Listen to me," she said very quickly, very lowly, each word like a hammered nail.
"You have already crossed the threshold."
The deathly aura around him wavered slightly.
The voice laughed: Threshold? It is only the first step.
She raised her hand. She did not press against his chest, nor did she touch the wound. She placed her hand on his wrist pulse, where the toxic blood flow was surging most strongly.
"Thuong Sinh."
Her voice trembled but did not break.
"If you go one step further, you won't make it back in time."
The black veins on his neck throbbed violently once.
His blood-red eyes trembled.
Then the deathly aura was pulled back—not vanishing, but retreating into his body, as if forced back into his chest. The black blood vessels slowly faded; the blood-red eyes began to retract, and the whites of his eyes reappeared.
Thuong Sinh exhaled sharply, a long breath. He bowed his head, his forehead almost touching hers.
"Thank you," he said softly.
Lam Thanh Moc let go. She took a step back, her legs going soft; she had to brace her hands on the ground to stand firm. But she still looked up at him.
"You still want to go."
It wasn't a question. Thuong Sinh nodded.
"Yeah."
"Without using that state?"
"No."
His voice had returned to its normal deep, steady, unwavering tone: "It already knows I exist." He looked toward the deeper darkness where the link had just retracted: "If I use it again, it will evade."
Lam Thanh Moc understood. She clenched her hands: "Then I am going with you."
Thuong Sinh shook his head: "No."
She was about to protest, but looking into his eyes—not red, not dark, just very alert—she knew he had decided.
Thuong Sinh turned, the sword held in his hand once more. He stepped into the darkness.
Very far away, in the sewers beneath the highway, that thing contracted slightly. It no longer sensed that power. It only sensed a human, approaching on his own.