Chapter 23: Fugitives at the End of the Road

Something must have happened between Qu Yan and Yan Zhuo. Song Chengfeng rested his chin on one hand, his gaze lingering on the two across from him. He couldn't quite decipher the shift, but it was certainly a positive change, and he was happy to see it.

"Is something wrong?" Qu Yan put down his spoon and pulled a tissue from the side.

Song Chengfeng withdrew his gaze and said nonchalantly, "How is your recovery coming along?"

They were only superficial wounds; once they scabbed over, they were effectively healed. Qu Yan didn't pay them much mind. "The weather is nice today. The road should be much easier."

That meant there were no issues. Song Chengfeng nodded. "That's good. Since it’s still early, we can still make a trip to the gas station."

With a tacit understanding, they packed up their things. Song Chengfeng drove toward a nearby gas station. He had taken this route the day before, so it went relatively smoothly. Along the way, he managed to shake off a few zombies. Glancing at them in the rearview mirror, his expression turned somber. "It seems like their speed has increased."

The car windows, coated in a layer of dust, were somewhat blurry. Qu Yan leaned over to look and saw that the few zombies chasing the car were indeed much more agile. He speculated, "Perhaps it is not that they have become faster, but that the ones we encountered before were simply very slow."

Yan Zhuo nodded in agreement.

After making a turn, Song Chengfeng rested one hand on the steering wheel, contemplating, "Then can I interpret this to mean that these zombies are also divided into high-level and low-level types? Compared to the low-level ones, the high-level zombies are faster and have more sensitive reactions?"

Just as his fingertips were about to touch the grime on the window, Qu Yan pulled his hand back. "You could think of it that way."

Song Chengfeng’s expression shifted slightly. "Then could there be even more terrifying ones, perhaps even possessing a degree of intelligence?"

The speculation held a certain degree of logic. Qu Yan did not refute it. "Perhaps."

Song Chengfeng gave a bitter laugh. "Why does it feel like surviving is getting harder? Is it possible that heaven intends for humanity to go extinct?"

No one answered him. Qu Yan stared blankly at Yan Zhuo’s profile. He bit down on his lower lip, grinding his teeth. He felt a vague craving for something he couldn't quite put into words. He grew restless from this inexplicable impulse until his temples began to throb.

Upon arriving at the gas station, Song Chengfeng, with Yan Zhuo’s assistance, filled the tank and stored two extra canisters in the trunk—it was always better to be prepared.

The sun inched toward the center of the sky as they gradually drove out of the city. After consulting with Qu Yan, Song Chengfeng chose a route that was remote but carried fewer hidden risks. There were no residents on this road, so there wouldn't be many zombies, which would largely minimize time wasted on the road.

The wind rustled the trees lining the road, and the sound of branches and leaves rubbing against each other was hypnotic. The little one was sleeping soundly. Qu Yan looked down at him while he had nothing better to do and noticed his hair had grown a bit longer and his cheeks were round. It seemed Song Chengfeng had been taking good care of him.

Song Chengfeng had an unexpectedly good talent for child-rearing. While Qu Yan was lost in thought, the car suddenly shook violently, and the tires screeched harshly against the pavement.

Song Chengfeng, up front, cursed. Qu Yan pushed the little one, who had nearly rolled off the seat, back into place, his own expression darkening. "What happened?"

Song Chengfeng gave a cold laugh, his voice tight with anger. "We’ve been set up."

With zombies running rampant and order collapsed, some people were driven to madness. Those at the end of their rope would naturally do anything; hijacking cars, killing people, and fighting over supplies were all too common. He had anticipated that such things would happen, he just hadn't expected it to come so soon.

It was late summer, and the vegetation was lush. The trees on both sides of the road cast heavy shadows, their branches and leaves rustling in the wind, forming a natural camouflage.

Hidden beneath the withered grass in the middle of the road were rows of thin, sharp nails. These little things were inconspicuous, yet they were the culprits behind the punctured tires. Song Chengfeng gripped the steering wheel, scanned the area, and whispered, "I don't know how many of them there are. Let’s just wait and see for now."

He said this primarily for Yan Zhuo’s benefit. Although he acknowledged that Yan Zhuo’s combat prowess was high, he still felt that the man was a bit reckless. Of course, it might also be that they were just on different wavelengths; he was a man who played mind games, while Yan Zhuo was a straightforward person who relied on his fists.

That didn't seem right either. Song Chengfeng looked back at Qu Yan. Logically speaking, these two weren't from the same mold, so how did they end up together?

Qu Yan looked at him, puzzled. Before he could ask, there was movement on the roadside. He lowered his voice to warn, "They're here."

There were only two of them, both lean and gaunt, looking like two long stalks of hemp as they walked over from a distance. The one in the lead was a man with dark skin, wearing a faded red hoodie. Behind him, a young man with dyed yellow hair carried an axe, his left ear adorned with a row of cheap, shiny earrings. He looked pale, as if he hadn't yet recovered from a serious illness.

Judging by their appearance, they didn't seem like formidable opponents. Song Chengfeng felt significantly more at ease.

"Get out."

The car door was knocked twice. Song Chengfeng rolled the window down a small crack, his face displaying just the right amount of terror.

"If you don't want to suffer, get out quickly." The man’s voice was dry and raspy. He gripped the window frame, threatening them, his eyeballs darting around as he scanned everyone in the car.

Half his face was pressed against the window, his protruding cheekbones threatening to pierce his skin. His eyes were alarmingly large, filled with dense blood vessels and a hint of madness. Song Chengfeng subconsciously leaned toward Yan Zhuo and then said in a trembling voice, "Big brother, take whatever you want, just please don't hurt us."

The man didn't speak, only twitched his nose as if judging the truth of his words.

Song Chengfeng hunched his body and opened the car door. He was immediately met with a sharp axe blade, just a finger’s width away from his nose. His face stiffened, and he didn't dare move.

The yellow-haired youth holding the axe covered his mouth and coughed twice, though the hand holding the axe remained perfectly steady. Only after his cough subsided did he speak, "The others get out, too."

Song Chengfeng made a gesture with his hand hidden behind his back, his expression remaining calm. "Look, brothers, the ones in the car are either too small or injured; it’s really not convenient."

The axe pressed forward again. A sharp pain stung his cheek, and Song Chengfeng felt something slowly trickle down his face, dripping onto his collar. He looked down and saw a small patch of blood blooming on his collar.

"Xiao Liu!" the man barked, snatching the axe from the youth and pulling him behind himself.

He looked conflicted, his somewhat neurotic gaze shifting between Song Chengfeng and the car. Finally, he said, "Leave the supplies, and you can go."

It seemed they didn't want to kill anyone, which meant they still possessed some rationality. Song Chengfeng calmly wiped the blood that had dripped to his chin, hissed slightly when he touched the wound, and said, "Sorry about that, I spoke a bit too fast earlier. We still need the supplies in the car; we can't give them to you."

His change in attitude was so rapid that the man didn't react in time.

Instead, the yellow-haired youth behind him, called Xiao Liu, said viciously, "He’s lying to you! I told you not to be soft-hearted!"

As he finished speaking, he began to cough violently again. His face flushed red, and his lungs seemed to have turned into a giant bellows. The man didn't refute him, but raised a hand to soothe him.

Finally wiping the blood from his face, Song Chengfeng leaned against the car and asked, "Is this your first time doing something like this?"

The coughing stopped. The youth glared at Song Chengfeng, gritting his teeth in defiance, then turned to the man. "Do you want me to die with regrets?"

"No, of course I..."

"Then go kill them," the youth interrupted.

Song Chengfeng gave a very soft, mocking laugh. He found it quite interesting. These two were clearly skeletal and weak, yet they spoke with such certainty, as if they had some ace up their sleeves.

He turned back to Qu Yan in the car. "The situation is resolved, but the tires are ruined, and it won't be fixed anytime soon..."

He was halfway through his sentence when his nerves suddenly jumped. He felt as if danger was closing in. His body reacted faster than his brain, and he sidestepped, nearly falling to the ground. As he looked up, he saw something fly through the air, thudding into the car with a crash as the entire window shattered.

Glass shards flew in all directions. Yan Zhuo spread his arms to shield the back seat, his exposed forearms slashed by several wounds.

"Damn it, what the hell was that?" Song Chengfeng cursed.

He soon found out. The man stood not far away, raising his hand with his palm facing the air. Several reflective, cylindrical objects appeared out of thin air, hovering. With a wave of the man's hand, they flew toward them.

Everything was too surreal. Amidst the shock, Song Chengfeng dodged while shouting, "Yan Zhuo, help!"

Inside the car, Yan Zhuo dug an ice pick the thickness of a thumb out from the shattered glass. He picked it up, handed it to Qu Yan, and then leaped out of the car.