Daylight broke very slowly; there was no brilliant sunrise, only a curtain of gray gradually fading as the darkness was pushed back bit by bit from the street corners.
A thin mist covered the low ground, condensing into droplets on old railway tracks and rusted corrugated iron roofs.
Thuong Sinh was the first to open his eyes. He had exited the circulation state of the "Vile Blood Heart-Corroding Art"; the redness in his eyes had gradually subsided, and his veins had settled, returning to their normal blue color.
He did not stand up immediately but sat still, listening to the surroundings. There were no roars, no sounds of dragging, only the wind whistling through the door cracks and the very faint clinking of metal against metal.
A night had passed, and this town remained intact.
He stood up and walked to the window. The morning light revealed what had been hidden during the night: chaotic footprints on the dirt at the edge of town that the wind had not yet erased, claw marks on the exterior walls, and patches of dry, mottled blood stretching toward the main road.
They had arrived, but they had not entered deep.
Lam Thanh Moc woke up immediately after. She looked in the direction of his gaze, needing no explanation.
"Blocked outside."
"Yeah."
Thuong Sinh went down the stairs first to check the entrance. The door was still intact, with no signs of impact. This meant the zombie horde had only brushed past, led away by something, or perhaps simply had not discovered them.
The two began to leave the house while the early mist had not yet dissipated.
The square looked completely different in the morning. The light revealed overlooked details: an overturned truck at the street corner with an empty bed. Several warning signs had been pulled down, and near the fountain from before, there was a fresh bloodstain that had not yet fully dried.
Thuong Sinh stopped, touching it lightly with the toe of his boot.
"Not human," he said.
"Zombie?"
"Yeah, but it doesn't seem to have been killed here. Dragged here and then dragged away."
Lam Thanh Moc frowned. "Does that mean a mutant passed by last night?"
"Or a larger horde."
No intelligence required. Just the need for numbers and converging instincts.
They continued to inspect the town's perimeter, not going deep. To the west, near the main road, the ground was churned up with clear, overlapping dragging marks. Some zombies had been crushed flat, their heads shapeless and bones shattered, as if trampled to death by their own kind.
Thuong Sinh looked at those traces for a long time.
"We cannot stay here long," he said.
"I think so too," Lam Thanh Moc replied. "But at least it's safe during the day."
He nodded, opening the old map on the hood of the car they had parked last night. The area Ly Thuong Kiet had marked lay further northwest, across a range of low hills.
"If we leave now, we can be out of this region before noon."
He closed the map and signaled her to board.
When the engine started, the dry ignition sound broke the morning silence. Far away, outside the town, a few weak roars echoed in response, but nothing approached.
The car rolled out of the square.
The abandoned town gradually faded behind the mist, returning to its inherent state—a natural trap that required no intelligence to kill.
The car had just turned off the gravel road when Thuong Sinh decelerated.
Ahead, in the middle of the cracked but level asphalt road, three people were walking.
There were no signs of swaying or dragging feet; their gait was irregular but rhythmic, carrying the clear alertness of survivors.
The three of them also saw the car.
Almost simultaneously, they stopped and stood still in the middle of the road.
Thuong Sinh did not honk. He released the accelerator, letting the car coast slowly to a halt about thirty meters away. A distance far enough to avoid an ambush, but close enough to see clearly.
Three people: two men and one woman.
Clothes were old, dirty, and heavily patched. They all had old scratches on them, nothing fresh. The man in the middle held an iron pipe—he didn't raise it, but his grip was very tight.
Lam Thanh Moc opened the door but did not step down immediately.
"Living people," she whispered.
"Yeah," Thuong Sinh said. "And hungry."
He opened his door, stepped out, and stood by the front of the car. His hand was not on his sword hilt, but his stance was perfect—it would take only half a second to draw.
The man in the middle spoke first. His voice was raspy, his throat dry: "We... don't intend to block your way."
Thuong Sinh did not answer.
He was observing: their eyes weren't red, their skin wasn't pale gray, and their breathing was rapid but didn't smell of rot.
"Where are you from?" he asked.
"The south," the man replied quickly. "A small camp. It's gone."
He didn't say why it was gone, nor was it necessary. The woman behind him swallowed hard, her gaze flicking quickly over the car before stopping at the backpack behind the driver's seat. That look could not be hidden.
Lam Thanh Moc stepped out of the car then.
She did not activate her Ability, only stood beside Thuong Sinh.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"Don't know, just walking. Staying means death."
A short silence followed. The wind blew past, carrying the smell of dust and very faint blood from the town behind them.
Lam Thanh Moc spoke: "This road isn't safe. Zombies will gather at night."
The man nodded. "We know."
"Then why keep walking?"
The man chuckled very softly, almost soundlessly: "Because standing still means dying even faster."
That answer was not wrong.
Lam Thanh Moc looked at the three of them once more, then turned to Thuong Sinh. He understood her gaze and shook his head very slightly—not in objection, but as a reminder.
"We aren't traveling together," Lam Thanh Moc said bluntly. "But I can give you something."
The three grew visibly tense.
Lam Thanh Moc opened the trunk, took out two bottles of water and a pack of dry rations, placed them on the road, and stepped back.
"Take them and head east," she said. "Don't follow this car."
The man looked at the supplies, then at Lam Thanh Moc, then back at Thuong Sinh who still stood there. He hesitated for only a second.
"Thank you," he said, his voice very low.
The three moved forward slowly, picked up the items, and immediately left the road, veering onto a small side path without looking back.
Thuong Sinh said nothing and got back in the car; the engine started. As the car rolled past them, Lam Thanh Moc looked through the rearview mirror. The three figures grew smaller and then were swallowed by a curve.
"How long do you think they'll last?" she asked.
Thuong Sinh looked at the road ahead.
"If they aren't stupid," he replied. "Then longer than today."
The car accelerated, leaving that stretch of road behind. Ahead, the terrain began to rise out of the depression; barren mounds and scattered collapsed foundations began to appear on both sides. The damp feeling from before faded, replaced by an unsettling emptiness.
Thuong Sinh said nothing, maintaining a steady speed. The map was open on the dashboard; the transit town was behind them, and ahead was a stretch of road connecting to the low hills that once served as a peripheral residential area.
Lam Thanh Moc broke the silence first.
"Those three just now... what if they turn back and follow us from a distance?"
"I'll know," Thuong Sinh replied. "And they should know they shouldn't do that."
It wasn't a threat; he was simply stating a fact.
The car drove for another half hour. Newer traces began to appear on both sides: scattered shell casings, an overturned truck with its rear door pried open. On the ground were irregular dragging marks, as if something had been pulled away—but they weren't zombie corpses.
Thuong Sinh decelerated.
"Someone held a post here, not long ago," he said.
Lam Thanh Moc observed the surroundings. A vine slithered slightly from her sleeve but didn't go far, only touching the ground before retracting.
"It's been cleared," she said. "Zombies didn't do this."
He nodded. Zombies couldn't clear traces like that; they only left a mess.
The car drove a bit further and came to a full stop. Ahead, the road was blocked by a strand of barbed wire stretched across—hastily placed, but calculated. It wasn't high, but it forced the car to stop.
Thuong Sinh turned off the engine; the two did not get out immediately.
"It's not a camp," Lam Thanh Moc said. "A camp would have more layers."
"Yeah," he replied. "It's a small hunting group."
As soon as the words were out, four people revealed themselves one by one from both sides of the road. No hiding. No staying under cover. They held all sorts of weapons: long knives, old handguns, and a homemade crossbow.
The leader raised his hand, signaling them to stop.
"We just want to talk," he called out loudly.
Thuong Sinh opened the door and stepped out. This time, his right hand was placed on his sword hilt, making no effort to hide it.
"Talk."
The man flicked a quick look at Lam Thanh Moc, then back at the car. His gaze stopped at the backpack and the storage bed in the rear, unable to hide his calculation.
"We manage this road," he said. "If you want to pass, leave some gear."
It wasn't an outright robbery, just a probe.
Thuong Sinh said nothing, his gaze sweeping over each man.
"How long have you been managing it?"
The man frowned: "What's that to you?"
"It relates to whether you'll survive past today," Thuong Sinh replied.
The atmosphere grew heavy again. A man in the back shifted his feet, gripping his knife handle tightly. Inside the car, Lam Thanh Moc could sense that their breathing was rapid, unlike that of someone with combat experience like Thuong Sinh. They were hungry, tired, and afraid.
The leader's eyes fixed on Thuong Sinh, glancing over his blue-black inner armor, the scar near his right eye, and finally the cloth-wrapped sword at Thuong Sinh's hip.
Thuong Sinh spoke no more, taking a step forward.
"I'm not looking for trouble, but I don't buy passage either."
One second, two seconds.
The man with the crossbow swallowed hard. Finally, the leader raised his hand again, but this time to lower it.
"Go," he said, his voice unresigned. "But don't come back."
Thuong Sinh did not respond; he turned and returned to the car.
the man pulled the barbed wire aside, enough for Thuong Sinh's car to pass. The engine started, and the car rolled through the cleared space.
Once they were far away, Lam Thanh Moc let out a breath.
"They might just turn into something else soon," she said.
"Yeah." Thuong Sinh looked at the road ahead, where low hills followed one after another.
The car left the obstacle behind, the road sloping upward. The ruined houses on both sides thinned out into empty plots interspersed with low forests. Weeds grew knee-high, rustling as the tires rolled over them.
Thuong Sinh drove very steadily, not fast, but not slow. But Lam Thanh Moc noticed a tiny change: he was no longer looking at the map.
He was observing the terrain.
"That group wasn't the threat," she whispered.
"Yeah," Thuong Sinh replied. "But their existence says something else."
"Are there survivors gathered ahead?"
"Or there's something that makes people afraid to go deeper," he corrected.
The car climbed a long slope. When they reached the top, the view finally opened up. Ahead was a shallow valley, in the center of which was an old, small residential area—just a few dozen low houses, a concrete warehouse, and a water tower that leaned completely to one side.
There was no smoke, no signal flags, but the movement traces were very clear, as if they weren't afraid of being discovered. The dirt road leading down to the valley had many overlapping footprints, both old and new. It wasn't just one or two stray zombies.
Thuong Sinh stopped the car on the high ground.
"Here."
"This isn't the transit point Ly Thuong Kiet mentioned," Lam Thanh Moc frowned.
He turned off the engine. The air was so quiet that the sound of the metal cooling in the engine could be heard.
The two got out of the car.
Lam Thanh Moc placed her hand on the ground. Her Ability spread very slowly, not diffusing widely but only tracing the footprints: "Low-tier zombies."
"Many. But scattered."
"They gather in the depression at night," Thuong Sinh said, looking toward the valley. "And disperse in the morning."
"No controller?" she asked.
He shook his head: "If there were, it wouldn't let them move so chaotically."
That was what made him slightly uncomfortable.
Zombies indeed lacked intelligence. But they had habits. And this place was like a natural gathering point—low terrain, damp, plenty of cover. A natural trap for anyone who wasn't careful.
"Go around?" Lam Thanh Moc suggested.
Thuong Sinh looked at the map again. If they went around, they would lose at least a day and have to pass through a denser forest area where visibility was poor and driving was difficult.
"No," he said. "Through."
She looked at him.
"But not immediately."
Thuong Sinh opened the back of the car, taking out a few remaining fuel bottles and a piece of rusted metal. He didn't explain, simply walking about dozens of meters away to choose a side path leading down to the valley.
He poured the fuel in a thin line—not much, just enough to smell. Then he used the metal to tap lightly against a rock.
Clang! Clang!
The sound wasn't loud, but in the silent space, it traveled far. About ten seconds later, from the valley below, scattered roars rang out. Not in unison. Not aggressive. Just a reflex.
"You're drawing them in another direction," Lam Thanh Moc realized.
"Yeah," he replied. "Clearing the path."
He lit the flame.
The fire didn't flare up large; it only burned in a low red strip, thin black smoke rising with a very pungent smell. For low-tier zombies, that smell was more attractive than anything else.
From afar, staggering figures began to appear, slowly pulling toward the fire.
"They'll gather there for at least half a day," he said. "Enough for us to pass."
Lam Thanh Moc looked at him for a moment, then nodded.
"Let's go."
The two returned to the car and drove down into the valley in the opposite direction. The dirt road was bumpy, but no zombies lunged out. There were only staggered backs slowly moving away, lured by the scent and the firelight.
As the car reached the center of the old residential area, Thuong Sinh suddenly decelerated.
"People used to take shelter here," he said. "But they left in a great hurry."
The car did not stop for long. They drove through the valley, leaving the old residential area behind while the sun stood still in the sky. Behind them, thin smoke still rose, and scattered roars echoed before being swallowed by the distance.
The road ahead was no longer a dirt track. Asphalt reappeared—cracked, yet continuous. Old signs began to appear on both sides of the road, the paint faded but not yet entirely gone. Utility poles stood straighter, no longer collapsed in mass rows.
After nearly another hour of driving, Lam Thanh Moc was the first to speak.
"People."
It wasn't a vague feeling. It was very clear.
Ahead, at a large intersection, a small truck was slowly crossing. Not rushed. Not evading. Behind it, a bit further off, was another pickup truck; its bed was covered with a tarp, and its wheels were strangely clean.
Thuong Sinh decelerated.
Rows of houses began to appear on both sides. Not abandoned houses. Some windows still had glass, and curtains were half-drawn. On balconies, there were even old clothes hanging out to dry—but they were freshly hung, not eroded by wind and rain.
"..." Lam Thanh Moc remained silent.
As their car rolled into this area, eyes immediately turned toward them.
Not overtly. Just very quick, familiar glances—the gaze of survivors who have grown accustomed to evaluating whether others are dangerous, valuable, or should be avoided.
"It doesn't look like a transit station," she whispered.
"No," Thuong Sinh replied.
The car continued. The deeper they went, the more the scene became unsettling in a different way.
There were stalls set up by the roadside—just a few boards joined together—selling filtered water, old batteries, and even dry biscuits. People were walking, carrying bags, talking quietly among themselves. It wasn't noisy, but it felt entirely unlike a place that had just gone through an apocalypse.
A child sat on a step, holding an empty can, watching their car drive by.
Thuong Sinh stopped the car—not because of danger, but because it was too abnormal.
A middle-aged man pushing a handcart was passing by; seeing them stop, he also faltered instinctively. His hand tightened on the cart handle for a beat, then relaxed when he saw only two people in the car.
Thuong Sinh opened the door and stepped out.
"Excuse me." His voice was not loud, very normal. "Where is this?"
The man looked him up and down, his gaze lingering on the sword at his hip a bit longer. But he did not retreat, nor did he show excessive defensiveness.
"You don't know?" he asked back.
"No," Thuong Sinh replied.
The man was silent for a few seconds, then let out a short breath as if weighing whether to answer. Finally, he spoke: "Luc Thuy City."
Lam Thanh Moc frowned slightly.
"Not a station?"
The man chuckled.
"Luc Thuy Station is the old name, from before everything collapsed." He pushed the cart one step further, then turned back to continue.
"So, the zombies—" Lam Thanh Moc asked.
"Are there," he interrupted. "On the fringes. In the sewers. In the old sectors."
"But they can't get in here."
Thuong Sinh looked him straight in the eye.
"Why?"
The man hesitated for a beat, then lowered his voice: "Because someone is holding them back."
"You're newcomers," he continued. "If you intend to pass through, do it quickly. They don't like strangers asking too many questions here."
The man pushed the cart away without looking back.
Thuong Sinh stood still for a moment, then returned to the car.
Lam Thanh Moc looked at him, her eyes filled not with fear, but with vigilance.
"This place never completely collapsed," she said.
"Yeah," Thuong Sinh started the car.
"Or it collapsed, and then someone rebuilt it."
The car rolled deeper into Luc Thuy City. Ahead, the streets widened, houses became denser, and there were more people passing by—a picture that was almost normal.