That terror came from the threat of zombies, which surpassed their imaginations in speed, strength, and keen hearing; swarming at the sight of fresh flesh, it was impossible to outrun them on land with just one’s legs.
For them, the scene before their eyes was
When they saw the zombies pouncing towards the young survivor, they had only one thought: he had no hope of surviving unless he jumped into the water.
It even reminded them of a saying.
"I thought the ’War God’ living in a dog kennel with his daughter was invincible, but I never expected someone to be even braver than him. Where is this ’War God’ from?"
Lin Fan on the shore, holding Frostmourne, remained calm in the face of the aggressive zombies. He truly had no way to deal with this unfriendly group of zombies.
He tried to convince them gently and slowly, hoping the zombies could keep their senses.
But to little effect.
The only consolation for him was encountering the uniformed zombie.
That was really good.
He kept thinking, wondering where that rational, uniformed zombie might be, possibly continuing its patrol, maintaining a semblance of peace in the market amidst the apocalypse.
As one zombie approached Lin Fan, twisting its head and growling, the thick, viscous liquid at the corner of its mouth was nauseating to see. With a puff, a flash of sword light, the zombie’s head soared high, spinning in the air before falling to the ground, its sticky blood spurting out.
In the eyes of ordinary people,
zombies were exceptionally fierce, and even armed resistance would result in being knocked down by their frontal assault.
But to Lin Fan, the zombies were not fast, their strength was feeble, and he could kill them with a casual swing of his sword.
The three survivors at the bow watched in terror.
"Fuck, that’s badass."
That was their only thought.
Since the apocalypse began, they had never seen anyone kill zombies so effortlessly. If they encountered zombies, they could only run as far as they could without daring to stop.
While they were stunned,
In their eyes, the young survivor lightly swung Frostmourne in his hand, shaking off the thick blood, sheathing the sword, and looked at them with a smile.
"It’s alright, I’m very strong."
He didn’t mean anything else by it.
It was just to tell them that the threat of zombies wasn’t that high.
The three survivors looked at each other, witnessing Lin Fan’s strength firsthand; their earlier thoughts of inviting him to the island vanished in an instant.
With such strength, who could stop him?
It’s true, if they brought him to the island, even with the addition of the one in the cabin, four people combined would not be a match for him.
As for following him and seeking protection?
They had no such thoughts, as the zombies in the city were too numerous. They had traveled by water and seen many terrifying sights, with zombies roaming in groups, and if there were survivors living there, they were likely to die in despair.
They also saw survivors on the shore calling out to them for help, only to be knocked down by pursuing zombies, ripped apart, and eventually turned into one of them.
All these gruesome events deeply impacted their psyche, chilling them to the bone.
"He is indeed very strong," the middle-aged man marveled.
"Are you planning to live on the island?"
Lin Fan enjoyed communicating with friendly, rational survivors. Only through them could he feel that the Yellow Market hadn’t become barbaric and crude due to the apocalypse.
The middle-aged man replied, "Yes, the city has fallen and is no longer suitable for us to live in. We want to go to Pear Island to see, there should be no zombies there, and we might stand a chance of surviving."
Surviving on the island would be similar to primitive living; without phones, electricity, and many other things. The tanker’s fuel wouldn’t last long, and upon reaching the island, whatever remained could support the power supply until the fuel was exhausted, returning them to a true primitive life.
Lin Fan said, "I hope you make it safely."
He saw a hint of wariness in their eyes,
a despair for the city,
and an expectation of leaving the city for the island.
The middle-aged man said, "Thanks, I advise you to leave the Yellow Market as well, there’s no hope here. As the apocalypse drags on, there will be more zombies and fewer supplies. If you can, it’s best to head to the deep mountains; there shouldn’t be zombies there, and you might have a chance to live."
He knew it was their kindness, so he didn’t argue, but pretended they were right, thinking he would consider it seriously.
The cargo ship set sail.
The apocalypse was unfriendly to everyone, those who could escape did so early, and those who couldn’t had to wait for death in the city.
Watching the cargo ship’s figure recede,
he hoped they would have good luck.
The breeze was comfortable; there was nothing left on the shore but the bodies of the fallen zombies.
He moved the zombies into trash cans, and while the garbage wasn’t his doing, it was somewhat related to him. Fortunately, there were plenty of trash cans around.
Just enough to stuff the bodies into.