The Little Merman in the Apocalypse 21
Wu Shan couldn’t see the person lurking in the shadows.
In the eerie and unpredictable environment, tension spread unchecked.
The survivors frantically searched for who might be targeting them.
The enemy was hidden, ready to strike again at any moment.
Under extreme fear and helplessness, the men’s breaths quickened, their heartbeats thundered like drums, echoing clearly in the silent room.
Wu Shan tightened his grip on his gun, his finger poised on the trigger, sweat dampening the handle.
In a frenzy, he fired wildly.
The hanging corpses and furniture were blasted to pieces, thick dust rising and obscuring vision.
“Who’s playing ghost here? If you’ve got the guts, come out and face me! Coward.”
No one answered.
Wu Shan hesitated, but pride kept him from ordering a retreat.
He couldn’t believe that with so many brothers, they could be afraid of a coward hiding in the shadows.
One of the men also steeled himself, craning his neck to look for possible hiding spots.
Suddenly.
A weight settled on his shoulder, and he reflexively fired.
“Bang!”
Turning around, he saw it was Xiao Liu, the companion who had been missing.
With a near-breaking point mindset, the man helped the wounded Xiao Liu to a corner.
“How… could this happen? I’m sorry, really sorry!”
The bullet had pierced an artery, and the bleeding wouldn’t stop.
Xiao Liu looked weakly and in shock at the man who had shot him, unable to voice his many questions, only managing to spit out a mixture of thick blood and foam.
At this moment, Wu Shan’s team paid the price for his reckless stupidity.
Only five were left alive.
Soft, unhurried footsteps echoed in the eerie silence, and a pair of long legs stepped out of the darkness.
Zhou Yu’s gray hair couldn’t hide his stunning features, his lips a pale hue.
His eyes were filled with obsession and madness, brimming with a dense aura of killing intent and excitement.
Z was like a poppy blooming in late winter, alluring yet deadly.
He leisurely licked the corner of his mouth, holding a blood-stained chainsaw, a complete madman.
“Good afternoon, everyone. It seems you quite like the welcome gift I sent.”
Wu Shan’s molars were nearly ground to dust, his eyes burning with fury.
Who would have thought the one who reduced them to such a sorry state was a seemingly frail beauty?
Several guns were aimed at Zhou Yu, ready to turn him into a bloody mess.
Zhou Yu wasn’t afraid at all; in fact, he loved the thrill of dancing on the edge of death, a smile still playing on his lips.
“It seems you’re not too fond of me.”
Wu Shan cursed wildly, raising his rifle, only to be suddenly tackled by his subordinate.
“What the hell are you doing!”
A hundred-pound iron hammer smashed into the spot where he’d just been, shattering the floor into dust.
Such force could have turned him into a pile of meat on the spot.
Wu Shan swallowed hard, wanting to retrieve the gun that had fallen nearby.
But Zhou Yu, smiling, swung the chainsaw viciously at his hand.
Wu Shan had to abandon the gun, rolling away to dodge.
In such a short time, this beautiful madman had killed most of his brothers.
Wu Shan clenched his fists tightly, veins bulging, his chest heaving with rage as he roared.
“Shoot! What are you standing there for?!”
The others hadn’t even seen Zhou Yu’s movements, and already a sharp surgical knife was pressed against Wu Shan’s temple.
The man smirked, easily lifting the burly Wu Shan to use as a shield.
He narrowed his light-colored eyes sinisterly.
“Doesn’t matter to me, I don’t mind having a scapegoat.”
The others hesitated, “Brother Shan…”
The bearded man’s lips moved as if silently cursing or pleading.
But he made no sound, just clenched his fists, nails digging into his flesh, sweating profusely.
Qiao Han arrived late, standing in one of the few clean areas, keeping his clothes unsoiled.
Calmly, he spoke, “Perhaps we can talk.”
Zhou Yu lifted his gaze, hair falling over his beautiful face, coldly surveying everyone before him.
He laughed wildly, a split personality on display.
“No need at all, you can all just die.”
“Even him, you don’t care?”
Zhou Yu followed Qiao Han’s gaze.
Su Luo had already been taken away by Chu Weilin, the boy curled in his arms, sobbing softly, showing no attachment to him.
An invisible crack appeared on Zhou Yu’s exquisite mask, panic setting in as he tried to stop the boy from leaving.
But the entire building had been rigged with explosives for a controlled demolition.
The powerful shockwaves and vibrations made the ground shake violently, making it impossible to stand, as the corridor collapsed and disintegrated.
Chu Weilin didn’t care about the bearded hostage Zhou Yu held.
He held the boy tightly, leaping down the stairs before the second explosion hit.
Wu Shan, bleeding from his temple, dared not move, cursing.
“Damn it, what about me? Is my life not important?!”
Zhou Yu had no time for others, chasing after Su Luo with inhuman speed, but it was too late.
The terrified little one hid in Chu Weilin’s arms.
Behind him, chunks of concrete peeled from the outer walls, rebar snapping like brittle branches.
The hospital building crumbled in an instant, survivors fleeing, but one person remained still.
Zhou Yu stood at the window, watching Su Luo.
His skin was unnaturally pale, his face a mix of joy and sorrow, eerie and terrifying.
His lips formed the words, “Baby, come back…”
Su Luo shook his head in fear, hiding himself more securely, unable to look at him.
The boy’s head suddenly throbbed with pain, the last image in his eyes was Zhou Yu, covered in blood, standing amidst the ruins.
Above him, a heavy piece of rebar was about to fall, yet he made no move to dodge, his gaze fixed intently on Su Luo, eyes dark and menacing.
The vehicle bumped along the snowy plain, the silence inside profound.
Su Luo lay in the back seat, a small blanket covering him, his frozen body gradually warming.
The darkness in his mind receded like the tide.
The boy opened his eyes, though his consciousness wasn’t fully awake, and sat up groggily.
His eyes were unfocused, a bit dazed.
The tranquility of the atmosphere felt surreal.
Qiao Han, in the passenger seat, turned back to speak to him, his tone gentle.
“It’s over now, we’re heading back to the Base.”
The boy’s thoughts returned, and he asked, “Zhou Yu…”
Chu Weilin, driving, heard the little one wake up and immediately worry about someone else.
He irritably rolled down the window for air, certain.
“That lunatic is dead.”
After all, the entire Qingzhou Hospital had been blasted to rubble, even if he was a monster, he couldn’t have survived.
Of course, no one saw Zhou Yu’s final moments.