With Xiao Yue leading the way, they cut through the scattered undead like a hot knife through butter.
They encountered other survivors. Most were hollow-eyed, gripped by fear and suspicion. Lin Yuan's offers of food and directions were met with hesitation and swift retreat. In these early days of the apocalypse, trust was rarer than sunlight.
His focus was singular—the library.
Near his destination, the sounds of fierce combat and desperate cries reached him. His heart clenched, and he urged Xiao Yue forward.
Rounding a corner, he saw it: a small group of survivors, besieged by dozens of zombies in a small square. Their line was about to break. And among them, wielding a fire axe, her long hair matted with grime but her beauty undeniable, was Su Qingxue.
"Xiao Yue, clear them out!"
The command given, the black beast became a blur of death. His enhanced claws tore through the zombies like they were rotten cloth. Lin Yuan followed close behind, the fruit knife in his hand a viper's tongue, finding eyes and jaws with lethal precision.
The fight ended swiftly. The survivors collapsed, gasping, their eyes filled with awe and gratitude as they looked at Lin Yuan and his hound.
Su Qingxue leaned on her axe, breathing heavily. She looked up at the man approaching her. Grime and sweat obscured his features, but the concern and familiarity in his eyes unlocked a memory.
"Lin… Lin Yuan?" she whispered, voice trembling with disbelief.
"It's me." He pulled down his bloodied mask, offering a relieved smile. "I'm late, Qingxue."
She dropped the axe and fell into his arms. Her shoulders shook not with sobs, but with the release of unbearable tension. He held her tight, feeling the solid reality of her, the half of his heart that had been suspended since the outbreak finally settling back into place.
He quickly explained his situation and the location of his shelter. The terrified survivors readily agreed to follow him.
But just as they prepared to move, a new presence made itself known—cold, malicious, and focused.
From the other end of the street, five figures in matching black combat gear approached. Their leader was a pale young man, idly twirling a shard of dancing ice in his fingers. The very moisture in the air around him crystallized into frost.
His gaze swept over the group, lingered on Su Qingxue, and finally settled on the formidable Xiao Yue. A predatory smile touched his lips.
"Not a bad pet," he said, his voice as cold as his power. "It's mine now. And the woman… we'll take her, too."