WMSR — QT Chapter 146

 

WMSR – QT Chapter 146

By

siofra

Chapter 146: The Senior of the Apocalypse

Because Bai Yichen's disguise across his neck was impeccably arranged, and given that the group emerged directly from District A wearing immaculate, high-end attire—marking them instantly as distinct from the impoverished denizens of the slums who were most vulnerable to zombie rat exposure—nobody subjected them to targeted interrogation. Coupled with the sanctuary's long-standing administrative protocol of maintaining strict entry controls while facilitating smooth exits (easy to leave the sanctuary, difficult to enter), Bai Yichen encountered minimal administrative friction at the boundary checkpoints, passing through the gates without incident.

Exiting the compound proved far less complicated than entering it, prompting Bai Yichen to instruct the guards to halt rather than trailing him into the wasteland; standing past the massive gates and heavy security checkpoints, he offered a quiet wave of farewell before walking out into the deep, frozen snowfields.

Deep within the compound gates, the small cluster of men stood watching as Bai Yichen receded step by step into the distance, leaving an unbroken trail of footprints across the pristine snow. One of the guards gripped the envelope clutched in his palm with white-knuckled intensity—treating the paper as though it were a miraculous talisman—and inquired: "Has Gu Song been notified?"

"The runner has already been dispatched; Gu Song should arrive shortly," the second guard replied.

Trapped in a state of high anxiety, the guards dared not disperse from the exit gates, remaining stationed in place to await reinforcement amidst mounting nervous tension.

Simultaneously, over in Z City, an elite strike team of ability wielders had completed their sweep across the designated ruins, packing the extensive pharmaceutical manifest with a full harvest of targeted medical supplies. Each operative shouldered a heavy, bulging canvas sack brimming with clinical inventory.

Suddenly, a dark silhouette materialized from the distance, rapidly closing the spatial gap to merge with the assembled power-wielders. The arriving operative was none other than Lin Jiawen, who—like his peers—slung a massive canvas sack over his shoulder carrying an equivalent payload of supplies. The singular differentiator was that Lin Jiawen additionally hoisted a long, rigid, square-columnar bundle wrapped tightly in heavy protective layers; while its physical dimensions suggested extreme density and weight, the exterior layers shielded its internal contents from direct inspection.

Xiao Yi frowned involuntarily at the sight, questioning: "What is that?"

Lin Jiawen answered unhurriedly: "I trust I haven't fallen short on my assigned pharmaceutical quota."

Confronted by that neutral response, Xiao Yi immediately clamped his mouth shut. He understood the underlying logic: the sanctuary historically maintained generous compensation structures for ability wielders performing municipal field operations. Provided an operative fully executed their primary logistical quotas without deficit, any surplus resources gathered utilizing personal bandwidth constituted legitimate 'extra earnings'—an unwritten, customary allowance sanctioned by executive policy. Strictly speaking, therefore, he lacked the jurisdictional standing to cross-examine Lin Jiawen regarding auxiliary cargo.

Yet despite receiving no verbal confirmation, Xiao Yi's gaze drifted persistently back toward the rigid, rectangular package dangling from Lin Jiawen's grip. The longer he studied its geometric shape, the more it resembled an unyielding stack of bound volumes—a collection of books.

Could such a hypothesis hold any weight? Typically, the extraneous items power-wielders scavenged from urban ruins consisted of high-value commodities or monetary currency.

As it transpired, Xiao Yi's speculative instincts were entirely accurate: the heavy bundle clutched in Lin Jiawen's hands was indeed an assembled stack of books. Regarding whether risking life and limb to haul back heavy, economically worthless dead-weight like literature was justifiable, Lin Jiawen maintained a singular, unyielding stance: provided it brought genuine joy to the person residing in his heart, the effort was infinitely worthwhile.

Prior to his departure, he had casually promised that individual he would secure his preferred reading materials whenever logistical bandwidth allowed. Though the sudden intrusion of Xiao Yi upon entering the sanctuary had forced him into a prolonged holding pattern, this tactical expedition to Z City provided an ideal, convenient detour to fulfill that pledge.

Gazing down at the bound volumes, Lin Jiawen pictured the expression Mengchen would wear upon receiving them, a soft, involuntary smile blooming across his features.

Once the logistical roll-call confirmed 100% personnel accountability, Xiao Yi conducted a final headcount before delivering the directive everyone anticipated: "Move out. We're returning to the base."

Operating with the disciplined cadence of their outbound journey, the contingent of ability wielders vaulted forward into the wasteland. The primary divergence was that every operative now shouldered a massive, swollen canvas sack, rendering their silhouettes significantly bulkier and anchoring their forward momentum far below the pristine lightness of their departure speed.

While the ability wielder strike team pressed northward from Z City, Bai Yichen had already ventured deep into the desolate perimeter far beyond the sanctuary's sphere of influence. The post-apocalyptic winter exhibited a savage, biting severity; sweeping gales carrying razor-sharp ice crystals lashed against his frame, forcing him to shudder involuntarily and pull his garments tighter across his chest.

He pressed onward into zones devoid of human architecture, until all remaining traces of civilization vanished from his peripheral vision—leaving behind an unbroken, otherworldly expanse of pure, ice-locked white.

Pausing to survey the silent, frozen horizon, an unexpected wave of profound internal calm washed over Bai Yichen. Perhaps ever since his translocation into this grotesque, virus-choked wasteland, his subconscious had quietly accepted that his terminal destiny would inevitably unfold beneath the fangs of a zombie.

Reflecting upon the journey, upon first waking up in this reality, he had never imagined he possessed the biological stamina to survive across half a decade. His most optimistic actuarial projections initially capped his survival window at roughly twelve months. Then fate introduced him to Lin Jiawen, anchoring a sequence of stable, peaceful years that stretched forward with such unbroken consistency that he had momentarily grown delusional enough to believe he might endure across this wasteland indefinitely. Regrettably, illusions remained illusions. His singular, lingering regret was that the viral infection struck with such abrupt, blinding velocity—leaving him zero temporal window to execute a personal farewell with Lin Jiawen.

He owed an immeasurable debt to the man who had shielded his existence across these turbulent years.

Yet, viewing the reality objectively, perhaps this outcome was optimal. Had Lin Jiawen been forced to witness his gradual, horrifying transformation into a flesh-eating zombie, it would have matched the exact nightmare scenario he wished to avert.

Bai Yichen raised his right arm, examining his wrist. The angry lacerations inflicted earlier had already darkened into a sickly, bruised slate-black, while the fluid weeping from the tissue loss lacked its natural crimson vibrancy, replaced by an opaque, turbid discoloration. Though his vision couldn't track the traumatic wounds hidden beneath the collar wrapping his neck, he recognized they had progressed far beyond the trauma on his limbs. Having sustained systemic penetration to such an advanced degree, his human consciousness would inevitably dissolve within moments.

Dragging his increasingly rigid, freezing limbs forward, Bai Yichen pushed deeper into the heart of the snowfields, as his cognitive awareness drifted into a blur with every mechanical, faltering stride.

As daylight slowly bled into twilight, relinquishing the frozen landscape to the encroaching shadows of evening, the expeditionary force of ability wielders finally crested the horizon, completing their thousand-mile transit back from Z City.

As the vanguard approached the perimeter of the survivor safe zone, a specific operative could no longer suppress his burning impatience. Despite carrying a heavy payload exceeding that of his peers, and enduring the profound exhaustion of an all-day forced march, he detonated forward with explosive acceleration—surging past the entire vanguard to sprint directly toward the compound gates. Having endured a forty-eight-hour separation, Lin Jiawen burned with an irresistible, desperate urgency to lay eyes on the person waiting for him at home.

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