WMSR — QT Chapter 142

 

WMSR – QT Chapter 142

By

siofra

Chapter 142: The Senior of the Apocalypse

The woman was caught entirely off guard by the slap, sending her tumbling to the ground. The disheveled, matted hair that had previously obscured her features fell away, revealing an exceptionally exquisite, striking face that looked completely out of place in the slums.

A flicker of stunned admiration flashed across the emaciated man's eyes upon seeing her face. However, when he noticed several shallow scratches on her cheek—torn open by his own sharp fingernails and oozing crimson droplets of blood—he recoiled as though catching sight of something terrifying, turning on his heel and bolting away without uttering a single word, his manner appearing even more panicked than before.

A full minute after the emaciated man fled, the woman sprawled on the ground stirred with difficulty. She slowly dragged herself upright, one hand cradling her aching cheek, and silently scooped up the plastic washbasin that had been knocked into the dirt. Without a sound, she retreated deep into the narrow alleyway, located one of the doors lining the cramped row, pushed it open, and slipped inside.

The interior revealed a depressingly tiny room furnished with meager, impoverished possessions. The sole item qualifying as furniture was a dilapidated wooden plank bed topped with a worn, ancient blanket.

Stepping inside, the woman closed the door to shut out the bitter winter wind, placed the basin flat against the wall, and sat down on the edge of the bed. Picking up a hand mirror, she pushed her hair aside, turned her face sideways, and cautiously examined the throbbing pain along her cheek.

The moment Qi Yuanyuan saw the bleeding scratches marring her reflection in the glass, an intense, murderous glare surged in her eyes: That damn lowlife, just you wait! Once some time passes, I'll make sure you suffer a horrific death!

Indeed, this woman was none other than Qi Yuanyuan, who had been cast down into the slums by Xiao Yi.

Life for Qi Yuanyuan in the slums was abysmal—how could it possibly be otherwise? Previously, under Xiao Yi's protection, she enjoyed the absolute finest standard of living the survivor safe zone had to offer. Relegated to the slums, her material reality plummeted from the heavens to the deepest abyss. Moreover, the district was swarming with violent thugs and individuals of low moral character. As a woman dumped into the sector by a prominent figure, enduring harassment and public mockery was a daily routine. Fortunately, her tormentors maintained a lingering baseline of fear, stopping short of crossing certain ultimate boundaries, which afforded Qi Yuanyuan occasional moments to catch her breath.

Furthermore, Qi Yuanyuan understood with absolute clarity that she was never destined to rot away in this hellhole permanently. Though Xiao Yi had exiled her here, her breathtaking beauty remained her primary capital for a counter-attack. Multiple ability wielders within the sanctuary had previously cast desirous eyes in her direction; her exile was still fresh, leaving those power-wielders hesitant to make a move while they tested the political waters. Once sufficient time elapsed and they confirmed Xiao Yi had genuinely abandoned her, she was entirely certain those men would not remain idle—at which point, she would undoubtedly claw her way back into the sanctuary's ruling elite.

As for the lowlife scum who dared bully her during this vulnerable window, she logged every single name in her memory, biding her time to exact a tenfold retribution.

In particular, she swore that the bastard who struck her today would be forcibly cast outside the base gates. Swallowing bitter curses, Qi Yuanyuan brought out a cloth to gently dab at the abrasions on her face. After all, her striking visage served as the anchor for every remaining aspiration of staging a comeback. Fortunately, she had never possessed a scar-prone physiological constitution, and her skin's regenerative capacity was robust; with careful treatment, shallow marks reflecting only faint traces of blood should heal without leaving permanent disfigurement.

Yet, midway through tending to her skin, Qi Yuanyuan abruptly froze, staring with mounting, horrified disbelief at her reflection in the glass: What is this?!

Uncertain and deeply unsettled, Qi Yuanyuan brought the mirror closer, scrutinizing the wounds with agonizing intensity. Why did her lacerations appear to be taking on an ashen, grayish hue?

Desperate to convince herself it was merely an optical illusion or accumulated street grime clinging to the edges, Qi Yuanyuan grabbed a damp towel and scrubbed vigorously across the cuts. Yet the grayish tint failed to diminish—it intensified, deepening into a sickening, morbid shade of slate gray bleeding outward from the raw subcutaneous tissue.

Qi Yuanyuan desperately wished to dismiss the anomaly as overactive paranoia. Regrettably, nobody survived long in the apocalypse through naive self-deception; heightened caution was an absolute survival prerequisite for anyone drawing breath in this era. Though she had spent recent years wrapped in pampered comfort, the brutal opening two years of the apocalypse had exposed her repeatedly to zombies—including the precise physical symptoms displayed by normal humans freshly infected by the virus.

The shallow, grayish abrasions lining her cheek matched textbook infection markers down to the letter—identical to the injuries inflicted by the claws or teeth of a zombie virus vector.

Could it be... Qi Yuanyuan's complexion warped instantly as her mind flashed back to the emaciated man.

No, that's impossible...

How could an active zombie virus carrier be roaming freely inside the compound?!

Despite her psychological rejection of the truth, her trembling fingertips exposed the rising tide of panic. Staring with a neurotic, unblinking fixation into the mirror, she scrubbed repeatedly at the wound until the grayish discoloration expanded aggressively, accompanied by blood seeping from the torn skin that lacked its natural crimson vibrancy—tainted instead by a sickening, unnatural discoloration.

Such undeniable, clinical signifiers completely shattered Qi Yuanyuan's final delusions of self-deception. She was genuinely, irreversibly infected with the zombie virus. In a matter of one, two, or perhaps three hours, the contagion would completely consume her central nervous system, transforming her into a mindless, grotesque walking corpse stripped of all human consciousness.

No!

An overwhelming, suffocating surge of resentment, terror, and stark disbelief twisted Qi Yuanyuan's features into an ugly mask.

Barely an hour or two from now, I'm going to die!

Yet why—why me?

I refuse to die! I haven't finished living!

I still have so many unfulfilled ambitions; I haven't escaped the slums, and I haven't extracted vengeance against Xiao Yi!

The mere invocation of Xiao Yi acted as a lightning rod, channeling every ounce of her bottled terror and rage outward. Indeed! Had Xiao Yi not heartlessly banished her to this godforsaken slums sector, she never would have crossed paths with an infected carrier!

It's all Xiao Yi's fault! Everything traces directly back to him!

Blazing with pure, unfiltered malice, Qi Yuanyuan's eyes scorched with murderous hatred. By what divine right was she discarded into the slums to suffer daily abuse and contract a fatal infection, while Xiao Yi walked away entirely unscathed?!

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