Lin An's sharp eyes caught the moment Wen Ya slipped, her body nearly torn from the roof of the RV by clawing hands. His brows furrowed.
If she were just an ordinary survivor, he wouldn't have cared. But if she truly was a mutant… letting her die would be a waste.
And if she could be of use to him—better still.
"Power Burst."
His voice was calm, almost casual, yet golden light rippled faintly around him. Strength surged like a tide through his veins.
In the next instant, his figure blurred. To any bystander, it would've seemed a shadow streaked down the highway—silent, lethal. A hundred meters vanished beneath his feet in seconds.
By the time he reached the RV, Wen Ya was already halfway dragged off the roof, her hair tangled in dead hands.
Lin An's gaze turned cold.
His right arm snapped forward. The Nepalese machete spun through the air like a black crescent moon, slicing cleanly through Wen Ya's long hair before burying itself deep in the car's steel plating. The blow was so vicious that the entire vehicle lurched upward, its frame shrieking under the force.
Lin An was already moving again. His fist shot out, cutting through the air with a sound like a whipcrack.
"Bang!"
The nearest zombie's skull exploded, gore spraying like a burst bladder.
Before the rest could react, Lin An became a storm of motion—striking, smashing, tearing through them one by one. His awakened strength made them look like fragile clay dolls, their heads bursting beneath his fists.
Two seconds. That was all it took.
The highway fell silent again.
Lin An exhaled once, shaking blood from his hand. His gaze shifted toward the roof of the RV.
Wen Ya was still there, trembling. Her hair was a mess, her chest heaving, sweat soaking through her fitted clothes. Just moments ago, she'd stared into death's maw, and now she stared at him as though he was some nightmare given flesh.
So strong.
Her mind could barely process what she'd seen—four zombies dispatched in the blink of an eye, each strike merciless and precise. If one of those blows had been aimed at her, she doubted there'd be anything left of her body.
"You… just now…"
Her voice shook. She finally recognized him—the black motorcycle, the combat uniform, the boots. The cold, unreadable man who'd flashed past her on the road earlier.
Lin An didn't bother answering. His eyes roamed over her, openly, appraisingly.
So this was a mutant?
At first glance, she looked no different from anyone else. No fangs, no claws, no monstrous aura—just a frightened woman who tried too hard to remain calm.
But appearances meant nothing. He needed proof.
"Take off your clothes."
His words fell flat, indifferent. A command, not a request.
Wen Ya froze. Her face drained of color, lips pressed tight.
She had expected it—men's gazes, their greed, their hands reaching. But she hadn't expected it from him. Not here, not after he'd saved her life.
Lin An stepped forward, ripping his machete free from the RV's frame. The blade dripped with blood. His expression didn't change. He had no patience to explain himself.
Wen Ya's fingers trembled as she clutched at her clothes. Resistance? Pointless. If he hadn't intervened, she would already be bones on the asphalt.
Her shoulders sagged in defeat. Slowly, silently, she pulled her shirt over her head. Pale skin gleamed under the moonlight, smooth as jade.
She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze with stubborn defiance.
Lin An ignored it. He leaned in, eyes fixed not on her body, but on the faint glow beginning to crawl across her lower abdomen.
There it was.
Dark purple sigils coiled across her skin, intricate and unsettling, veins of crimson light pulsing between them like a heartbeat. The marks seemed alive, whispering at the edge of perception, tugging at the soul.
Lin An's hand moved almost on its own. His fingertips brushed across the patterns, tracing their curves. Her skin was smooth, warm, trembling beneath his touch.
A faint thrum of mental energy seeped into him with every pulse of the sigils. His mind sharpened, his already formidable will bolstered further.
So it's true…
This was the proof. Mutants bore these patterns like curses, burned into flesh by the system itself. To the uninitiated, they looked like tattoos, but to anyone who had survived as long as Lin An had, their meaning was unmistakable.
And they were powerful.
No wonder players in his past life had hunted mutants with such obsession.
Wen Ya shivered beneath his touch. At this distance, she could feel his breath, hot against her ear. Her heart raced, her body tense. For the first time in her life, she was this close to a man, and the weight of it left her ears burning red.
Yet when she looked up into his face, there was no lust in his eyes. Only calculation. Curiosity.
Her lips parted slightly.
"This pattern… it has meaning, doesn't it?"
Her voice was soft, tentative. A realization dawning.
Lin An glanced at her, faintly surprised by her quick deduction.
He gave a slight nod. No need for lies—she'd already guessed.
Wen Ya's expression shifted. She remembered the way he had ignored her at first, only to risk himself the moment he noticed the marks. She had thought him no different from other men who looked at her body with hunger.
But now she understood. What he sought wasn't her flesh. It was the power etched into it.
For some reason, that thought left her feeling both relieved… and strangely hollow.