Chapter 205: Death Cycle (III)

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Chapter 205: Death Cycle (III)

Shang Ke endured more than ten hours alone in the wilderness. By the time his body had completely regrown, it was already three or four in the morning—the darkest hour before dawn. Everything around him was silent except for the rush of the wind.

Exhausted, Shang Ke pushed himself up from the ground. His skin was smooth and unblemished, without so much as a scar, as though being torn apart earlier had been nothing more than a terrible nightmare.

Night belonged to the zombies, so Shang Ke had little time for self-pity. He retrieved the backpack that had been tossed aside and changed into a few pieces of clothing that were still intact. The moment he saw the hole in the bag, however, the image of his heart being crushed surfaced involuntarily in his mind.

The System had given him a choice between two missions: 【Kill the Zombie King】 or 【Be killed by the “protagonist”】. Before meeting the Zombie King, Shang Ke had leaned toward the former. After meeting him, he felt the task was practically impossible.

The Zombie King gave him a sense of absolute invincibility. He had attacked without sound or warning, and without even using an ability, had killed Shang Ke with effortless ease.

He was still far too weak.

Shang Ke sighed inwardly, picked up his tattered backpack, and disappeared into the darkness at a brisk pace, searching for somewhere safe to wait until dawn.

His long hair had been glued into stiff, dried strands by congealed blood. During a brief rest, Shang Ke cut it short with his scissors and immediately felt much cleaner and lighter.

At daybreak, Shang Ke resumed his original plan and continued toward the main base.

The next few days passed surprisingly smoothly. Even when Shang Ke encountered zombies, they did not attack him. At first he remained tense and constantly on guard, but after several tests he finally confirmed that under ordinary circumstances, zombies simply ignored him. Only when they smelled his blood did they become excited and pursue him relentlessly. As long as he did not bleed, he could practically walk freely through a horde.

Of course, if he encountered a powerful zombie with true intelligence, things probably would not be so easy.

On the fourth day, Shang Ke entered Fanxi City. From there, Xu City, where the main base was located, was only another three or four days away. The denser the former population, the more zombies remained.

Shang Ke slipped cautiously through the alleys like a stray cat before darting nimbly into a building.

He had not eaten in several days and was genuinely starving, so he decided to find a kitchen and cook himself a proper meal.

Over the past few days, he had gathered bits and pieces of food and everyday supplies. The abandoned cities no longer had functioning utilities, but after once surviving in a primitive society, conditions this crude were hardly enough to trouble him.

Carrying a bundle of firewood, Shang Ke chose an apartment in a corner of the building and quickly slipped inside. He searched the rooms first and entered the kitchen only after confirming that no zombies were hiding there.

The kitchen was modern, spacious, and well equipped, with pots, bowls, and utensils of every kind—everything except knives.

Shang Ke shut every window to keep the smell of food from escaping. He used water magic to wash the cookware, then fire magic to ignite the firewood. From his newly replaced pack, he took out a fish he had cleaned earlier by the river, along with seasonings and ingredients scavenged from supermarkets and shopping centers.

His basic magic could do little more than rinse vegetables and start a fire, and he could not sustain it for long, but it was still remarkably convenient for cooking.

After putting the fish soup on to simmer, Shang Ke took out two “potatoes” he had dug from an untended field not long before. Some abandoned farmland in the suburbs had not gone completely barren. Hardy crops still survived there, though many seemed to have mutated.

The “potatoes” in his hands were a perfect example: misshapen, dark purple, and distinctly alien-looking. If Shang Ke had not been effectively immune to poisoning, he probably would not have dared taste them.

A little over half an hour later, he had a steaming pot of fish soup and a fragrant plate of pan-fried potatoes. Shang Ke sat casually on the floor, sipping soup and eating potatoes with an expression of complete contentment. The scent of food filled the kitchen. A few wisps occasionally slipped through the cracks, but they quickly dispersed into the air without drawing the attention of nearby zombies.

Shang Ke was eating happily when a chill suddenly ran down his spine. He whipped around, but there was nothing behind him. Just as he started to turn back, movement at the edge of his vision caught his attention. A figure was clinging upside down to the ceiling—a little zombie no older than six or seven. She was completely naked, painfully thin, with blue-black skin and a pair of emotionless crimson eyes.

A red-eyed high-rank zombie.

Shang Ke had not found her when he searched the apartment earlier. She likely possessed some special ability that allowed her to conceal herself. Red-eyed zombies were more intelligent than ordinary ones, but as long as he did not bleed, she probably would not attack him.

A single high-rank zombie was not particularly frightening. Shang Ke was more worried that she might attract others. If she scratched even the tiniest break in his skin and drew a single drop of blood, things would become very entertaining indeed.

There was still fish soup and potato left, but it seemed he would not get to finish them. Shang Ke shook his head regretfully and began packing quickly while keeping a wary eye on the little zombie. He planned to find another room for the night.

At that moment, the little zombie suddenly moved. Her figure blurred, and in the blink of an eye she appeared beside Shang Ke.

Shang Ke slowed. His right hand, hidden inside his bag, tightened around the hilt of his blade as he considered whether to simply take her head off and eliminate the threat at once.

The little zombie ignored him. Instead, she lowered her head toward the soup pot, bent over, and licked the broth once. Then she froze.

Shang Ke muttered inwardly. Could zombies actually like food with no trace of blood in it?

As the thought crossed his mind, ripples suddenly spread across the soup as though the entire pot were vibrating, producing a low buzzing sound.

What was happening? Shang Ke had no idea, but his caution immediately sharpened. Unwilling to stay any longer, he packed faster. Just as he was about to leave, the little zombie flew into a rage. She violently knocked over the soup pot, then snarled furiously at Shang Ke as though accusing him of daring to cook something so disgusting.

Shang Ke: “…”

Apparently this was not going to end peacefully. Shang Ke immediately drew his weapon and slashed for the little zombie’s neck.

His blade cut through only an afterimage. The little zombie vanished from his sight and reappeared over his head the next instant, pouncing at him like a spider.

Shang Ke rolled sharply to the side and dove beneath the dining table.

Before he could steady himself, a crisp crack sounded from above. Fractures spread outward across the tabletop from its center.

The dining table was made of hard material, yet the little zombie had cracked it with a single swipe of her claws.

Shang Ke realized she might not be an ordinary red-eyed zombie at all, but one already on the verge of advancing to General-class.

What terrible luck. He had only wanted to sneak away and cook himself one meal. Did it really have to come with such a vicious after-dinner “dessert”?

Against a little zombie girl who could seemingly teleport, possessed monstrous strength, and had a violent temper, there was no way Shang Ke could keep a low profile. He could only hope to finish the fight quickly and minimize the danger. Unfortunately, aside from the Zombie King, she was the strongest zombie he had encountered so far.

With martial arts alone, he could barely defend himself. Killing her without being injured was essentially impossible.

Within moments, bloody claw marks covered Shang Ke’s arms, back, neck, and other exposed areas. The scent of blood completely ignited the little zombie’s ferocity. Her claws raked at him without restraint, each strike seemingly determined to tear away a layer of flesh.

Shang Ke could barely handle the little zombie in front of him, and now excited howls began sounding one after another outside the building.

Given the building’s height and sturdy construction, zombies below the high rank would not be able to break in easily. For the moment, dealing with the problem directly in front of him mattered more.

Since he was already bleeding, Shang Ke no longer had any reason to hold back. He went all out, prepared to fight the little zombie to the death.

Yet while she clearly held the advantage, the little zombie abruptly stopped attacking. Half-crouched on the floor, she gave Shang Ke a low, warning growl.

Puzzled, Shang Ke failed to notice that a tall figure had appeared behind him at some point.

Only when an icy hand clamped around the back of his neck and lifted him off the floor did he abruptly realize what had happened.

The fingers dug deeply into his flesh, bringing cold sweat to Shang Ke’s skin. He had experienced this helpless sensation before. If he was not mistaken, the figure who had suddenly appeared behind him was the Zombie King, Di Kui.

When he was turned around, he saw exactly the familiar, terrifying face he expected.

Di Kui tightened his fingers and casually snapped Shang Ke’s neck. With a crisp crack, Shang Ke’s head was left attached to his body by little more than skin and flesh. The moment Di Kui let go, it would lose all support and droop like the head of a broken rag doll.

Compared with the bloody mess last time, though, this method could already be considered much “gentler.”

Even through the overwhelming pain, Shang Ke somehow still had the leisure to mock his own situation.

Di Kui held Shang Ke aloft but did not immediately throw him down. Instead, he simply stared at him.

Two trails of bloody tears slid from the corners of Shang Ke’s eyes. Faint golden light flickered within his black pupils, while lips red as blood stood out starkly against his pale face, giving him an unnaturally alluring appearance.

Di Kui remained silent for a long moment before speaking in an extremely hoarse, grating voice. “You… look familiar?”

Shang Ke: …Heh. After killing this “Passerby A” two—no, three—times in a row, you finally think I look familiar! And why are you here again? Did you come all this way specifically to kill me for fun?

In fact, Di Kui also intended to reach the humans’ main base. Unfortunately, he had no sense of direction, so he had chosen to follow other humans. Several times they led him the wrong way, and whenever that happened, he simply killed the people who had misled him. By sheer bad luck—or remarkable fate—he ran into Shang Ke again here.

He had followed the zombies’ hungry cries to this place, only to discover that the “food” exciting them so much still stirred no appetite in him at all.

Ever since becoming the Zombie King, Di Kui had not had a satisfying meal. Being constantly hungry had left him in an extremely foul mood.

Di Kui’s gaze slowly shifted to Shang Ke’s limp right hand. His little finger had been broken in the earlier fight and was bent at an unnatural angle, but it was already repairing itself. Before long, the finger had returned completely to normal.

Although Shang Ke’s eyes were still open, he was technically already “dead,” so the power of the world-essence shard inside him had begun automatically restoring his body.

Di Kui appeared fascinated by the phenomenon. He suddenly reached out and severed the little finger that had only just finished healing—with one sharp fingernail, he simply cut. It. Off.

Shang Ke stared at him expressionlessly. “…” (It happened too fast for him to scream. By the time the pain arrived, he no longer knew what posture he was supposed to scream in.)

Di Kui held Shang Ke’s severed finger in one hand and his neck in the other, staring intently at the bleeding stump.

Time passed little by little. Di Kui showed no impatience whatsoever. He stood perfectly still for two full hours, quietly watching Shang Ke’s severed finger grow back. Meanwhile, the other wounds on Shang Ke’s body had also nearly healed, except for the ones on his neck where Di Kui was still gripping him.

At that point Shang Ke had only one thought: You’ve been holding me up for more than two hours. Aren’t your arms tired at all?!

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