The night was dark, and the stars and moon were dim.
The rebel army's main camp was empty, not a single figure in sight. The mountain wind swept through the fallen leaves, adding to the eerie chill.
Yun Han slashed his way through the horde of corpses alone, his whole body drenched in blood, his clothes torn beyond recognition, he almost became a man of blood.
He feared turning into a zombie, cutting away at every wound on his body that could mutate.
He didn't know how much flesh he had gouged out, his whole body was a bloody mess, with bones visible on his chest and arms, eerie and terrifying.
The taste of rust-like sweetness filled Yun Han's throat, his handsome and deep face stained with filthy blood, barely recognizable, from afar he looked like a zombie that had wandered into the camp by mistake.
The pain was so intense that his whole body became numb.
For a moment, Yun Han even doubted whether he had already mutated.
