Thuong Sinh had not even a shred of intention regarding aiding the Luc Thuy military.
"Let's go." Thuong Sinh turned around, without the slightest regret.
Lam Thanh Moc paused for a moment; she looked at the briefcase in Tran Chien's hand then at Thuong Sinh's decisive back. She smiled—a smile of relief.
"Are you truly not curious about what that thing is?" She walked quickly after him, gliding past the jagged rock ledges.
"Things that make the military and those freaks risk their lives to snatch only bring trouble," Thuong Sinh replied. His voice blended into the wind: "We need peace to live; we don't need those glittering things."
They chose a small trail located on the rear mountainside, completely hidden from the view of the battlefield below. The sounds of gunfire, the screams, and the pungent smell of toxic mist gradually receded, separated by the cliffs.
After another day of traveling, a thick fog enveloped the mountain peak. Thuong Sinh stopped beside an ancient pine tree charred by lightning. He knelt, touching the damp ground, sensing the vibrations transmitting from afar.
"Almost there," he said, his gaze piercing through the white mist.
On the other side of the slope, hidden behind the veils of fog, were the flickering lights of oil lamps and cooking fires. It wasn't a fortified city like Luc Thuy, but more like a wild rest stop for free survivors. There were no grand military patrols, no strict rules from major guilds.
"The Western Refuge," Lam Thanh Moc whispered.
Thuong Sinh retracted the aura of death around his body; the two quietly stepped down the mountain slope, heading toward the entrance gate assembled from rusted corrugated iron sheets.
They approached the entrance silently. Just as Thuong Sinh had predicted, this place lacked the tight control of the military. At the entrance, only a few burly men carrying crude weapons sat on wooden crates.
Thuong Sinh and Lam Thanh Moc merged into a group of forest-goers who also looked disheveled. After paying a small fee consisting of a few old batteries and a can of food to the guard group, they officially stepped into the Western Refuge.
Inside, the space reeked of wood smoke, cheap food, and the scent of overcrowding. Rows of houses built from tents, plastic tarps, and bricks were packed close together; yet the rhythm of life here was very vibrant. Survivors traded goods directly on the ground; the sounds of haggling, laughter, and even cursing created a jumbled noise.
"Find a place to rest first," Thuong Sinh said.
The two walked through the narrow street, staying away from crowded areas. Thuong Sinh chose an inn located deep in an alley, a place that looked quiet and aged.
The proprietor was an old woman blind in one eye; she didn't even bother to look up when she saw the guests enter, only quoting a price for a small room in the attic. Thuong Sinh didn't say much; he placed some dry rations on the table and took the rusted key.
The attic room was only about ten square meters, the ceiling so low that Thuong Sinh had to duck his head, but it had a small window looking straight at the mountain range behind—a perfect escape route if things went south.
Lam Thanh Moc dropped her backpack, sitting flat on the old mattress, letting out a long sigh: "Finally, I can take my shoes off."
Thuong Sinh did not rest immediately. He stood by the window, looking down at the street below, his gaze sharp and cold, observing every small movement of the people passing by; he sensed that in this refuge, there was no shortage of capable individuals.
"I'm going out for a bit." Lam Thanh Moc nodded. "Be careful." "Mm."
Thuong Sinh nodded slightly, then stepped out the door. He walked through the crowd like a ghost, without making a single sound; he didn't go to the bustling street but sought out a dark tavern where hunters gathered.
He sat in a dark corner, ordered a cup of weak water, and began listening to the whispers around him.
"Heard the Luc Thuy convoy got 'eaten' in the valley, right?" a large man whispered to his companion. "Really? Even Colonel Tran Chien couldn't hold out?" "How the hell could he hold out against that gray mist? I saw it from afar—his own men started shooting each other like they were possessed. But I heard he still managed to escape with the secret cargo."
Thuong Sinh sat motionless in the dark corner; he took a sip of the weak water, his ears still gathering every scrap of information about the tragedy of that convoy. After confirming there was no more valuable information regarding the "secret cargo" and that gray mist, Thuong Sinh finally stood up.
He didn't want to linger in this chaotic place for another second. He walked low, hiding among the large backs and the heavy smell of alcohol to head toward the tavern door.
Just then, a hunter reeking of alcohol, staggering unsteadily, walked in the opposite direction into the tavern. The two collided hard at the shoulders.
Thuong Sinh could have used his footwork to dodge, but amidst the thick crowd, moving too flexibly would easily attract attention; his shoulder only vibrated slightly before he continued to slip past and walk straight ahead, not deigning to look at his opponent.
However, the drunk man had no intention of letting it go. The collision nearly made him tumble; the intoxication combined with the ego of one who frequently roamed the mountains made him flare up.
"Dammit! Are you blind?"
He roared, his rough, calloused hand grabbing Thuong Sinh's shoulder, pulling him back. A surge of pressure transmitted from the man's hand, showing that he too was someone with some physical strength.
Thuong Sinh stopped; he didn't turn his head, but his deep black pupils remained as calm as if nothing had happened. The blood power inside him, which had been as still as a lake, suddenly rippled with a chilling aura of death.
"Let go," Thuong Sinh said deeply.
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an unusual resonance that made the drunkard suddenly feel a cold chill run down his spine, his pores across his whole body standing on end.
The drunk man froze slightly; the alcohol in his head seemed to sober up a few degrees before that invisible killing intent. But before the watching crowd, he didn't want to lose face. He gripped Thuong Sinh's shoulder tighter, intending to use force to crush the shoulder blade: "You tell me to let go? Do you know I am—"
Before he could finish his sentence, he felt his palm sting as if pierced by thousands of needles. A faint, thread-like black mist began to seep through the skin of his hand from Thuong Sinh's shoulder.
Thuong Sinh had not yet drawn his sword, but his blood poison had begun to automatically react to the external intrusion.
The drunkard immediately felt a bone-chilling cold spread from his hand. The pain wasn't like being hit, but like tens of thousands of parasites burrowing into his bone marrow.
His face shifted from red with alcohol to suddenly gray. Looking down at his hand, he saw in horror that the veins in his wrist were turning deep black and twitching incessantly beneath the skin.
"Ah... what is this!"
He screamed in terror, as if he had just touched a red-hot iron bar, hurriedly pulling his hand back; he staggered backward, falling flat on his buttocks, eyes wide as he stared at Thuong Sinh as if seeing a demon just stepped out of the darkness.
The entire tavern went suddenly silent. Others who were laughing and joking had to stop, putting down their drinks. They didn't see the thread-like black mist, but they sensed the terrifying transformation in the aura of the young man standing at the door.
Thuong Sinh remained standing there, his back slightly leaning forward; the surge of blood poison from earlier was quickly retracted by him. He didn't want to kill anyone here, at least not at this moment when he had just set foot in this area.
He turned, revealing part of his face under the tavern's oil lamps. His voice rang out calmly but contained a threat.
"Next time, keep your hand on tight."
With that, he didn't wait for the man to react, silently stepping out of the tavern door, vanishing into the misty night of the Western Refuge.
The drunk man sat on the ground, his hand still trembling uncontrollably. Although the pain had subsided, a faint black streak still remained on his wrist, like a warning from death. Those around whispered and talked, but no one dared to pursue. In this chaotic place, those who can make others fear without drawing a weapon are always existences that should not be touched.
Thuong Sinh walked quickly through the dark alleys, sensing the blood power inside him gradually stabilizing. He returned to the attic inn, where Lam Thanh Moc was still sitting by the window waiting. Seeing him return, she stood up, frowning slightly as she smelled alcohol and a trace of lingering death aura on his clothes: "Did something happen?"
"A small bit of trouble at the tavern." Thuong Sinh removed his coat, sitting down on a rotted wooden chair. "But I gathered important information. The Luc Thuy military has truly disintegrated; Colonel Tran Chien is bringing something back to Luc Thuy."
That night, Thuong Sinh did not sleep deeply. He sat cross-legged on the floor, circulating his blood power to completely purify the aftershocks of the earlier blood poison eruption. The black shell around his heart now operated smoothly, gently swallowing the remaining stray thoughts.
— The Next Morning.
Thuong Sinh opened his eyes; his deep black pupils had regained their absolute stillness. He looked at Lam Thanh Moc; she had finished preparing and was using her ability to gently mist the small sprouts she had planted in a wooden box by the window.
"We cannot stay at this inn for long." Thuong Sinh stood up. Lam Thanh Moc nodded: "So where are we going?" "We are leaving this area," Thuong Sinh said nonchalantly.
Lam Thanh Moc was slightly dazed; she stopped watering the plants: "Leaving? We just got here. I thought you wanted to hear more about the situation out there."
"Hearing that is enough." Thuong Sinh re-wrapped his sword and placed it at his hip. "The Luc Thuy military is disintegrated, the cargo is being hunted, and the forces within are spilling out beyond control... This place looks like it's free, but in reality, it's just a net. Sooner or later, the fires of war will incinerate this region."
"So what will be the next route?" she asked softly, looking at him.
He didn't answer immediately. He approached the table, taking out a tattered piece of parchment that he had secretly traded from the innkeeper late last night after leaving the tavern. On the paper was a crude map with squiggly lines heading North.
"Back at the tavern, I heard some hunters from elsewhere whispering about a massive migration." He pointed his finger at a spot marked with a gear and steel hammer symbol. "They said the major powers are concentrating their troops in this direction. A place called Iron City."
Lam Thanh Moc frowned: "Iron City? I heard rumors about it when I was at the filtration plant. Isn't that a gathering place for criminals and arms dealers?"
"Correct. But it's also the only neutral place, not subject to the control of any military garrison." He rolled up the map. "I heard it's the largest survivor city in the North."
"In the North?" Lam Thanh Moc was surprised to hear the North; a flicker of hesitation appeared in her eyes, but it vanished quickly.
He glanced at her, seeing her bite her lip in silence, her hand unconsciously tightening on her backpack strap. He didn't ask, nor did he want to dig deep. "Yes, the North," he said deeply.
"My older brother—before the apocalypse broke out, he was studying at North Heaven City (Bac Thien City)." "If Iron City is the largest point in that region, I believe I will find traces of him there."
Lam Thanh Moc nodded, her voice trembling slightly but quickly regaining her composure: "University in North Heaven... that's a very far place. This journey will not be easy at all."
"Mm," he replied, the sword at his hip letting out a small click as he adjusted his belt. "But even if it's just a corpse, I must go and confirm."
The blood poison inside him seemed to also sense its master's will, circulating more powerfully through his veins. He led Lam Thanh Moc out of the attic room, stepping down the creaking wooden stairs.
They left the area before the sun had fully risen. The surrounding space was submerged in a terrifying silence, only the sound of wind whistling through the alleys.
Thuong Sinh walked ahead, wearing a simple black coat over his Gale Leather Armor, the bandage-wrapped sword placed at his hip. Lam Thanh Moc quietly followed behind; she didn't ask further about the North, but her eyes occasionally scanned the rusted signs along the road.
After walking for about three hours, the refuge had completely vanished behind the barren hills. Before them now was the old Highway 1A, the asphalt surface torn apart by tree roots, creating deep ruts.
"From here North, the terrain will be more open," Thuong Sinh said neutrally, his eyes scanning the rusted truck carcasses lying along both sides of the road. "Fewer obstacles mean it's easier to be observed, but it also means we will see enemies from afar."
He stopped beside a worn kilometer marker, leaning down to look at the cold ashes of a campfire. He reached out to touch the ash lightly, sensing the lingering trace of an aura. "Someone passed through here about two days ago. On foot, about ten people."
Lam Thanh Moc approached; she flicked her hand lightly, and a few small wild grass blades by the roadside suddenly grew long, coiling around her wrist as if whispering.
"The plants here have a very strange smell, Thuong Sinh." She frowned. "There is a pungent toxin soaking into the soil—not the gray mist of the robed people, but something else... they are afraid."
"Just keep going," he replied nonchalantly. "The more toxic the land, the fewer people dare to linger. It is the shortest path to Iron City."
All that day, they trudged through the grey twilight. There were no sudden ambushes, no gunfire. Only the wind howling through the empty window frames of abandoned rest stops.
He led the way, eyes scanning the surroundings, occasionally stopping to check the wind direction and the scent in the air. Though he didn't say it, Lam Thanh Moc's silence and the way she continued to look North told him she had something regarding that side.
As night began to fall, they found an old toll station that was half-collapsed. Thuong Sinh signaled to stop. "Rest here tonight."
He sat down, leaning against a collapsed wall, his deep black pupils staring into the darkness of the road ahead. Iron City was still very far away.
The night wind blew through the cracks of the toll station, carrying the cold and a heavy smell of rust. Thuong Sinh didn't light a fire; the only light in the ruined space was the faint silver glow from the moonlight obscured by clouds.
Lam Thanh Moc sat not far away; she had fallen asleep at some point, her breath steady but her hand still tightly clutching the bag of seeds. Looking at her weary appearance, a flicker of complex emotion passed through his eyes and vanished.
The North... Iron City...
He didn't know what connection Lam Thanh Moc had with that Northern land, nor was it clear why hearing those two words made her eyes waver so. He was not one who liked to be curious about others' pasts. However, seeing her sleep fitfully amidst the darkness, a thought suddenly crystallized in his mind.
He didn't care what she was hiding, nor did he need to know who was waiting for her in the North. He only knew that from the moment she went with him, she was his person. Whether it was organizations, the military, or those mutated entities out there, absolutely no one would be permitted to harm her while he was here.
The white-bandaged sword placed across his knees vibrated with a somber rhythm, as if resonating with the heartbeat of the black shell encasing his heart. The blood poison in his body surged slightly, like a fierce beast baring its fangs to protect its territory.
He leaned his back against the cold wall, his deep black eyes not closing at all, guarding a peaceful sleep for her.