Mutant!
Combined with Wen Ya's information, it resembled the rumors Lin An had heard in his previous life.
This person wasn't an awakened one, yet she possessed extraordinary abilities. Such beings were vanishingly rare—one in tens of millions. Before the end, people like this often lived as Taoist priests, shamans, or eccentrics whispered about in villages.
Unlike awakened ones, who gained raw combat strength and supernatural powers, mutants were different. Their mutation lay in the will.
A mutant's willpower naturally exceeded human limits by at least ten points without any strengthening. After the apocalypse, they appeared as Level 1 in the system, distinct from ordinary humans at Level 0.
But raw mental force came with its flaws. Most mutants lacked training; their spiritual energy overflowed uncontrollably. They weren't physically strong, but their mental power was immense—enough to act as living batteries for awakened warriors.
And in combat, endurance was everything. An awakened fighter backed by a mutant could sustain abilities as though their strength had risen an entire level.
That was why, in the chaotic years ahead, every faction would fight over them. Mutants were precious resources, yet also tragic prisoners. Once discovered, they were guarded, hoarded, and stripped of freedom.
Lin An knew this too well.
In fact, after his rebirth, he himself was half a mutant—his will attribute had already reached twelve before awakening.
Whether Wen Ya truly was a mutant, he couldn't yet confirm. But speculation was pointless. Better to secure her first.
He deactivated the Eye of Judgment, turned, and moved. Three hundred meters—at his speed, only seconds.
Forming a power base had always been part of his plan. It wasn't just about building a safe zone to survive the game of apocalypse. Three months after the outbreak, the system would assign special missions to those who had established territories. Missions requiring manpower, resources, and cooperation—things no lone survivor could accomplish.
If Wen Ya really was a mutant, then recruiting her was non-negotiable. With a single mutant, the strength of an entire faction could rise dramatically.
Yes—she was worth his full attention.
Meanwhile, on the roof of the car—
Li Zhiping's bloodshot eyes bulged as he stared at Wen Ya. His throat worked, producing a guttural, meaningless growl.
Seven minutes had passed since infection. His weak willpower and frail body were already collapsing beneath the virus.
"Itchy… itchy…"
He repeated the word hoarsely, raking his nails across his skin. Flesh tore under his fingers, strips of bloody tissue falling onto the metal roof. He didn't feel pain. If anything, his scratching grew faster, frantic, almost ecstatic.
Piece after piece, until raw red muscle was exposed.
Wen Ya's knuckles whitened around a utility knife. She had nowhere left to retreat.
The zombies below clawed madly at the car, driven wild by the smell of blood.
Wen Ya bit down until her lips bled. She had known this was coming ever since Li Zhiping insisted she check his wound.
At least she had managed to grab the keys when escaping. On the keychain was a small folding blade—half the length of her palm, pitiful against the nightmare before her. But it was all she had.
"Ahhh!"
Li Zhiping's howl split the air. His bones cracked grotesquely, his body swelling and twisting. In an instant, he was no longer human.
The stench hit like a wave.
"Roar!"
His jaw split wide, lips tearing, teeth bared as he lunged.
Wen Ya dropped into a squat, trying to sidestep, but she had no combat training. A fraction too slow.
"Bang!"
The weight of his mutated body slammed her onto the car roof. Her back struck metal with a dull crash. White skin blossomed with bruises, her shoulder blade fracturing under the force.
Pain shot through her chest like knives.
But her eyes did not waver.
The stinking maw loomed before her face, hot breath reeking of rot. Wen Ya gritted her teeth, tightened her grip, and with every ounce of strength rammed the blade into the base of his skull.
A wet sound tore through the air.
The knife sank into the vulnerable joint at the back of the neck, slipping into brain tissue.
The zombie convulsed, eyes freezing with feral hunger, then collapsed like a severed puppet.
Dead.
Wen Ya gasped, shoving the body off. Her chest heaved, sweat pouring down her temples, hair plastered to her pale face.
She had killed him. She had lived.
But terror still wrapped around her like ice.
Even execution by a thousand cuts would be gentler than being torn alive by the undead.
She struggled up, trembling. Pain lanced her shoulder blade, her body weak.
"Bang!"
The blood pooling across the car roof turned the surface slick. Wen Ya's foot slipped, balance vanishing.
"Ah!"
She hit hard, pain jolting through her side.
Below, the zombies went mad at the fresh scent. Dozens of rotting hands clawed upward.
Fingers tangled in her hair, ripping away strands with pieces of scalp. Her head snapped back from the force.
She clawed at the roof, but the bloody steel was smooth, slippery. Her body slid inch by inch toward the grasping maws.
Despair filled her eyes.
The dead were only breaths away.
The stench of decay flooded her lungs.