“16:21.”

Chu Che glanced at the watch on his wrist, then raised his eyes toward the village entrance. His expression remained a mask of perfect, indifferent calm.

He didn’t look like a man leading a convoy through the apocalypse. He looked like a man waiting for a bus. His gaze was serene, his posture relaxed. When the terrified survivors looked to him for reassurance, they found an anchor in his stillness.

But deep within his irises, buried beneath layers of professional detachment, was a flicker of anxiety.

Twenty-one minutes late.

According to the plan, they should have been wheels-up by now. The convoy should be putting kilometers between themselves and this cursed place. Instead, they were idling.

Not a single soul—not Chen Ye, not the sword-wielding girl, not the giant, nor any of the dozens of scavengers—had returned from Longevity Village. The fog had swallowed them whole. No screams, no movement, just a suffocating silence.

To the ordinary survivors, Chu Che’s erratic leadership was a mystery. Why drive seven kilometers east in the morning only to backtrack south in the afternoon? Why these sudden stops? Life in the convoy was hard and hungry, but strangely safe. They had seen few monsters. Some had even begun to whisper that the “Anomaly Apocalypse” was exaggerated.

They didn’t know the truth. They didn’t know that safety was an illusion maintained by Chu Che’s paranoia.

Since awakening the Pathfinder Sequence, Chu Che lived in a world of constant, screaming danger.

Where others saw an empty road, he saw a kill zone. Where they saw a quiet afternoon, he sensed the “Ghost Shadows” tracking their scent, hunting the convoy’s residual heat like sharks trailing blood.

Anomalies didn’t just wander aimlessly; they locked onto stationary prey. The convoy had to keep moving to break the scent trail. His job was to navigate a minefield where the mines were invisible and hungry.

He had set the deadline for 4:00 PM because his intuition screamed that Longevity Village was safe only until then. After 4:00 PM, the window closed.

And now, his senses were blaring a warning.

Ten kilometers to the southwest. Something massive was coming. A terrifying, high-level Anomaly had picked up their scent and was accelerating toward them.

It was Apricot Blossom Town all over again.

Chu Che checked his watch.

“16:22.”

Eight minutes, he thought, his jaw tightening imperceptibly. I’ll give you until 4:30. If you aren’t out by then, I leave you behind. I have to save the rest.

“A-Che.”

Uncle A-Bao’s voice broke his concentration. The older man’s eyes were filled with worry.

Chu Che offered a reassuring smile. “No hurry, Uncle A-Bao. We wait a few more minutes. We roll at 4:30.”

A-Bao nodded and turned to prep the engines. The sound of engines revving sent a wave of panic through the waiting families.

“They aren’t out yet! Where are we going?”

“My husband is still in there! I’m not leaving!”

“Big Brother! We can’t leave my brother!”

The cries of the desperate rose into the dusty air.

One hundred meters from the exit.

Chen Ye clung to the straps of the giant backpack like a tick on a running dog. The wind whipped his face, but his eyes were wide, scanning the darkness.

The village was alive. Shadows danced in the periphery—Corpse Thralls? Ghosts? It didn’t matter.

The air was thick with whispers, sibilant and wet like the hissing of snakes.

“Don’t leave me… Don’t…”

“Hehe… stay and play. It’s so cold…”

“Why are you running? Join us…”

The voices burrowed into his skull. He heard the pleading of an old woman, the giggle of a child, the sob of a young man. Some voices sounded terrifyingly familiar—people from the convoy he had spoken to just days ago.

Chen Ye’s vision blurred. His grip loosened.

Ahead of them, a young man who had been sprinting toward the exit suddenly stopped. His eyes glazed over. Confused, he turned away from the light and walked calmly back into a dark alleyway. He vanished without a sound.

Mental contamination.

“Wake up!”

Chen Ye bit his tongue, the sharp pain clarifying his mind. He raised his hand. Thwip.

A bolt flew into the darkness.

“AHHH!”

A shrill scream shattered the whispers. The spell broke for a second.

“Keep moving!” Chen Ye roared.

Above him, Xu Lina’s eyes went cold. She swung her sword at the shadows. A wave of Sword Aura slashed through the air.

SCREECH.

Another scream. But the effort cost her. She swayed violently, nearly toppling from Iron Lion’s shoulder. Her face was the color of old ash, her lips grey. She was running on fumes.

“Big guy! Don’t stop!” Chen Ye yelled, sensing the giant slowing down.

“DAMN IT!” Iron Lion bellowed. “HOLD ON!”

A mist of red energy erupted from the giant’s pores. He didn’t just run; he thundered. To Chen Ye’s senses, the man felt less like a human and more like a prehistoric mammoth charging through a tar pit.

Chen Ye hooked his arm through the backpack straps to secure himself and used his free hand and foot to reload his crossbow. It was a trick he had practiced a thousand times in the quiet nights of the convoy.

Click. Loaded.

Black Dog Blood bolt ready.

Just as the string locked into place, a shadow flickered beside him.

It was fast—unnaturally fast. Like an old mountain ape.

The Hunchback Thrall.

Chen Ye’s heart hammered against his ribs. Why is it here? Why now?

The creature was running alongside them, keeping pace with Iron Lion’s sprint effortlessly. Its mouth was split in a grotesque, exaggerated grin.

But the horror was on its back. The grafted head of the timid woman was staring directly at Chen Ye, her eyes filled with infinite venom.

“Why didn’t you save me?” her voice hissed in his mind. “Why?”

“You’re dead… You’re all going to die! I am the next you… I am you…”

Chen Ye didn’t hesitate. He raised the crossbow point-blank.

Thwip.

The bolt slammed into the Thrall’s eye socket.

But the creature didn’t flinch. It didn’t dodge. It didn’t slow down. With the shaft protruding from its eye, it kept running, its grin widening as if mocking him.

Chen Ye felt a bucket of ice water dump over his soul. It’s immune? Or is it not even real?

A sense of impending doom crushed down on him.

And then—warmth.

The oppressive grey fog shattered. The dimness vanished, replaced by the golden, dusty light of the late afternoon sun.

The air smelled of diesel and sand, not rot.

They were out.

Chen Ye twisted his neck to look back.

The Hunchback Thrall stood at the very edge of the village shadows. It hadn’t crossed the line. The bolt was still stuck in its eye, and it was still smiling that terrible smile, waving a clawed hand as if bidding them farewell.