He was no longer truly human anyway. Besides, the script’s intended outcome was for him to die. If the protagonist, Xie Shouhan, truly couldn’t kill him, then ending it himself would work just as well. That way, this broken plot could be brought to a close, allowing the world to return to its original storyline and proceed normally under the leadership of the protagonist, Xie Shouhan.
Everything would become fine, wouldn’t it?
As long as he died.
Because zombies could only be completely killed by severing their heads or smashing their skulls to extract the crystal core, he could only hack deeper into his neck in an attempt to cut off his head. However, a fierce wave of pain suddenly struck, and his vision darkened in front of him. Yet, the rusty kitchen knife was too dull; he had to saw back and forth across the wound just to barely slice through the flesh and skin of this body. The pain only grew more intense, blood gushing from the wound on his neck as the agony caused his hands to tremble uncontrollably.
Back before the shelter, there clearly hadn’t been such an intense sensation of pain. Was it because his body registered a fatal injury, causing the pain to be automatically magnified? Or was it because of the words spoken when triggering the “Word Spirit” technique back at the shelter, which caused the pain to manifest?
His hands shook incessantly, rendering him unable to saw any deeper along the wound. Blood continuously gushed from the split in his neck, and he was in such agonizing pain that he lost consciousness, staring as the blood overflowed the rusty kitchen knife, dripped down his arm, and pooled onto the ground. The bright red blood was startlingly vivid.
Yet, he was no longer capable of pondering why his blood had turned bright red. He still attempted to slice off his own neck, but the blood surged faster. He was in too much pain to utter a sound because his throat had already been severed; only a wheezing hiss escaped his windpipe. His hands shook so violently that he nearly dropped the kitchen knife, feeling as though something was restraining him, preventing him from cutting down even an inch deeper. Immediately afterward, the zombie’s rapid healing kicked in, and everything returned to square one.
Thus, he tried once more to use the kitchen knife to hack at the old wound on his neck several times, but each time it stopped halfway, the pain becoming too unbearable to proceed. Then came the rapid healing of the zombie, as if activating the body’s protective mechanism, with only that fatal wound on his neck healing at an extraordinary speed.
All his efforts were in vain, returning once more to the starting point.
Just die! Just die!! Just die!! Why can’t I die? Why can’t I even die?!
The kitchen knife clattered to the ground. Huaisi clutched his head, crouching on the ground as he pounded his own skull repeatedly. He wanted to scream, but the wound on his neck had not fully healed, and his windpipe could only emit a rattling hiss, leaving him with broken, breathy sounds. The clothes on his body were already soaked through with his own blood, as if he had rolled around in a sea of blood, and the hems of his trousers continued to drip blood steadily, forming a gradually expanding pool of gore on the ground.
He only felt an unbearable dryness in his mouth, every inch of his body clamoring to replenish blood. His hunger reached its peak, and the burning thirst eclipsed his sanity.
Suddenly, a deeply alluring fragrance drifted into his nostrils the scent of an esper and humans. Under the influence of hunger, his perception of blood was magnified dozens of times over. Smelling that alluring scent from afar, his golden, slit-pupil eyes completely dominated by instinct caused him to stagger to his feet, following that trace of scent.
His bare feet dragged across the pavement, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. He lifted his head, seeking out humanity.
“Ah, ah, ah!!!” This group of fleeing refugees cowered in a corner. They had reached the end of the alley, with nowhere left to run.
The frail woman holding her child was among them. She and her child had regrouped with the old, weak, sick, and disabled who had fled earlier. The woman knew deep down that she and her child alone would never make it to the next survivor sub-base, so she had once again joined forces with this group of refugees.
She stared in a daze at the young zombie that had suddenly appeared at the mouth of the alley. An even greater wave of terror washed over her, fixing her eyes directly upon the emerging creature.
At the entrance of the alley, the young man wore a shirt and slightly shortened dress trousers. His once-light shirt had turned completely crimson; he was barefoot, with blood continuously dripping from his trouser legs. His pupils were golden slits, and his complexion was so pale it looked faintly bruised. Unlike ordinary zombies whose faces were riddled with holes or oozing disgusting pus, his facial features were exceptionally clean and refined; yet, he awkwardly tilted his head back like a beast sniffing the air, a posture that made the terrifying bloody gash on his neck all the more exposed, faintly revealing a deep wound reaching down to the muscular layer! Backlit by the light, it only projected those golden slit pupils, the horrifying bloody scar, and the terrifying aura of someone crawling out of a sea of blood. As the youth approached, everyone felt as though death was slowly tightening its grip around their throats.
That trace of the esper’s scent had vanished, yet the rich scent of human life drove his hunger, compelling him inexorably closer to them.
Flesh and blood he wanted fresh human flesh.
Dominated by hunger, stained entirely in blood, he was a thousand times more terrifying than before. He even reached out to grab someone who hadn’t managed to run far enough.
“Ah, ah, ah, ah…” Screams of ultimate terror filled the air.
Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, the human who had been within his grasp was now a foot away, leaving his hands completely empty. He froze in confusion. A flash of silver light cut through the air, his slit pupils contracting as he sensed danger. He hurriedly backed away, but a gash was still slashed across the back of his hand, blood welling from the wound.
So hungry, Huaisi sucked on the wound on the back of his hand with his mouth, unwilling to let any more blood go to waste. Yet his slit pupils stared straight at the group of trembling humans before him, undisguised greed gleaming in his gaze.
Suddenly, a dark figure flashed swiftly across the sky. The space overhead darkened as a figure flipped down, and in an instant, the man landed right in front of him with effortless composure, touching down completely without a sound.
The young man had materialized before him as if teleporting, causing Huaisi to pause in a daze. He even glanced up at the narrow alleyway sky, wondering where the man had come from.
The young man adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his expression entirely devoid of emotion, his eyes filled with absolute coldness. He looked at Huaisi as if appraising a cut of pork.
“An advanced mutated zombie.”
Gazing at the abruptly appeared young man, Huaisi fell into a momentary trance, his eyes reflecting the man’s familiar features.
Yet the man looked completely different from his memory: dressed in a linen shirt paired with dress trousers, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, possessing handsome features and immaculate attire, every upward glance of his eyes reeked of detachment an entirely different temperament.
Huaisi stared blankly at the man before him, his slit pupils shifting as he let out a sound: “…Shou… shan…”
“Confirmation complete, obliteration!” Just as the man finished speaking, his arm swept outward, and in a fraction of a second, he was right in front of Huaisi. Even though Huaisi’s five senses had become much sharper than before after turning into a zombie, he still couldn’t react in time, feeling as though this person had descended from the heavens. In his peripheral vision, a biting cold gleam flashed past, landing precisely toward Huaisi’s neck!