But he had nowhere left to go. Walking corpses lay ahead, enemies behind, and there was no water source nearby. Even if he climbed a tree, he would only be pecked by birds.
The only option was those rock crevices that could barely fit one person, gambling on his chances of survival.
After squeezing inside, he first moved rocks to block the opening, then brought out the small amount of stored black fog, covering as much of his body as possible.
“Steady…”
The simple act of manipulating the black fog nearly made his vision go dark. He didn’t dare to recklessly touch it again.
Soon, panic and chaos erupted from the human ranks. Hovercars were attacked by corpse-birds, crashing to the ground, igniting and exploding.
The sound of machine guns tore through the sky, and the roar of thrown weapons and flamethrowers was ceaseless, yet none of it could drown out the enraged howls of the walking dead.
Though human heavy firepower was fierce, the tide of corpses was endless and impossible to kill completely; it was a war of attrition.
The only thing Zhuang Fan could confirm was that the black fog truly could protect him, serving to repel the corpse-monsters.
The walking corpses even actively avoided the crevice opening shrouded in black fog.
The side effects were also obvious. Hiding in the black fog, whispers and murmurs constantly clung to his ears, annoyingly so.
Additionally, under the black fog’s envelopment, he discovered that the wound on his leg bitten by bullet locusts had actually healed completely.
Well, it actually had such a miraculous healing effect. Zhuang Fan suddenly felt that the eerie fog was far more useful than he had imagined.
Zhuang Fan didn’t know when he had fallen asleep, but in any case, he woke to the early morning of the next day.
He focused and listened carefully, but outside was a dead silence. Aside from howling winds, there was no other sound.
Zhuang Fan kicked the rocks of the crevice hard, and was surprised to find that they had all become brittle, like bean curd.
Moreover, these rocks were emitting a faint brownish mist. After parsing his memories, Zhuang Fan learned it was called:
【Decayed Fog】
Humans could be infected by eerie fog; of course, objects could also be corroded by eerie fog, producing this brown Decayed Fog.
Decayed Fog would cause items to continuously rot and decompose until they became hollow shells and dust, at which point the fog would dissipate.
The thicker the eerie fog, the faster it corroded objects.
Furthermore, this Decayed Fog was extremely difficult to deal with. It couldn’t be dispersed by fog-repelling lamps; it required high-temperature baking, or the combined use of ultraviolet light and nanobots, to be thoroughly removed.
Zhuang Fan frowned. He had found a thread of suspicion:
If objects infected by eerie fog—say, rocks—would rot, didn’t that mean the entire Earth would slowly corrode?
From what he observed of the wilderness, this simple conclusion was clearly unsupported.
After crushing the rock, Zhuang Fan was left with some natural sand and gravel in his hand. When he tried to corrode it further with black fog, there was basically no effect.
He gradually came to a realization.
If he actively pushed black fog into rock, the rock would corrode and disintegrate, eventually turning into natural sand and gravel.
Beyond that, it was difficult to rot further.
But without external impetus, most rocks, soil, and other inorganic matter in nature would simply maintain their original state, unaffected by the eerie fog.
The specific principles behind Decayed Fog, Zhuang Fan hadn’t fully figured out yet, because he needed to keep running.
The trees and jungle outside had vanished, all broken and mangled, becoming a barren wasteland.
In the distance were numerous hovercar wrecks billowing with thick smoke, and corpses lay strewn about and rotting like wild dogs.
His main field of study was neuro-robotics, researching brain-computer interfaces and consciousness mapping. Only at such close range could he properly examine the mechanical forms of these guards.
Their prosthetic eyes were completely shattered; their synthetic skin was tough as carved stone; the bulging muscles all over their bodies were more exaggerated than if pumped with steroids;
Below the chest and abdomen were entirely mechanical implants; exoskeletons and alloy joints radiated a cold gleam, and through small gaps one could see the numerous life-support tubes inside—not aesthetically pleasing, yet brimming with violent beauty;
Overall, if these mechanical guards, filled with a wasteland-punk style, represented the average level of human technology seven hundred years later, Zhuang Fan would be somewhat disappointed. They possessed none of that sci-fi futuristic texture presented in films.
Zhuang Fan searched through the graveyard-like scene for a long time and finally found an assault rifle in 95% condition, but it had no bullets.
Then, beneath a hovercar wreck, he found an energy protein bar pinned under a corpse. The packaging was charred, but the inside looked edible. Waste not.
Everything around had burned clean. After searching a while, he found nothing else of value, so he hung the empty gun behind his back. It should be enough to intimidate some bandits.
The sun blazed fiercely, the air gradually growing hot and dry, making the corpses even more unbearable. Silhouettes of Vulture people began circling in the sky one after another.
Zhuang Fan didn’t dare linger. Though he didn’t know where to go, he definitely needed to get as far from the “Cold Ridge Zone” as possible.
The corpse tide had its pros and cons. Where it passed, not a blade of grass remained, but it also prevented wild monsters from ambushing in secret, and his field of vision was much more open.
A figure approached from not far away—an old man wearing a bamboo hat, looking kindly, with a short-barreled shotgun hanging across his chest.
He was sitting atop an ox, with four more in tow.
Only up close did Zhuang Fan realize these oxen were covered in explosively bulging muscles, somewhat resembling Belgian Blues. What was even stranger was that they actually had two heads.
“Young man, are you lost?”
“No, I’m heading forward.”
Zhuang Fan spoke evasively while making way. He didn’t want too much entanglement with the wanderers of the wasteland—this was hard-earned experience from Xu Renyi.
“Oh my, if you’re going to that place, aren’t you just seeking death?”
“How so?”
The old herder pointed to the dense forest in the distance: “See those hole-riddled trees? Inside are ratmen nests, densely packed. If you fall in, you’ll never get out.”
Zhuang Fan hesitated for a moment, then pointed to a direction slightly left of straight ahead: “I’m going there.”
“That’s hilarious. You’ll die even faster there. A bunch of tumor-covered freaks, jabbering away, just waiting to self-detonate for release. Whoever goes there is cursed.”
“What about this way?”
“You really know how to pick. See that pile of stone formations? That’s the Vulture people’s territory. When the corpse tide came last night, they flew away, but they’ll probably be back soon.”
Vulture people… well, he had seen them several times and naturally knew how savage these bird-men were. They specialized in eating carrion and certainly wouldn’t refuse fresh meat delivered to their doorstep.
Seeing Zhuang Fan fall silent, the herder waved his hand:
“Alright, at a glance you’re some fool who ran out from a shelter, never seen the world. Let me take you to a settlement first. You can live a bit longer there.”
Zhuang Fan observed him and gave a slight nod.
He took the assault rifle from his back, gripped it tight in his hands, and cautiously followed behind the old man.
As long as he could get far from the Cold Ridge Zone, it didn’t matter where he went.
The herder hummed a ballad, leisurely leading the way.
Zhuang Fan thought for a moment and asked, “The corpse tide just left last night. You dare be here already?”
“Heh, let me teach you some wilderness experience. Places where a corpse tide just passed are actually quite safe, and you can scavenge for leftovers.”
He patted the sack at his side: “Those soldier ruffians carry quite a few valuable things on them.”
Zhuang Fan asked again, “What’s the name of the settlement we’re going to?”
“No name. Call it a town, but it’s really just a village. Pretty much the same.”
The herder glanced at the rifle in Zhuang Fan’s hand, shook his head, and smiled: “Only soldier ruffians use that thing. Short-range, large-caliber guns—that’s what real men carry.”
Zhuang Fan didn’t reply, carefully observing his surroundings.
After walking for roughly an hour, Zhuang Fan saw a small gathering spot in the distance.
It really couldn’t be called a town. The houses inside were built from iron sheets, discarded containers, and fabric—crude and rudimentary.
A thick, smoky odor wafted over, pungent and foul.
When Zhuang Fan drew near, he discovered the residents didn’t look like normal humans. Their faces were wide, mouths large, with two tusks protruding. Their builds were stocky, skin entirely dark green, with only a strip of coarse cloth around their groins.
The old man led the oxen to the entrance and spoke to the green-skinned male in charge:
“Atuoer, brought the oxen. Five gold.”
Then he pointed at Zhuang Fan and made a gesture: “Fresh meat, one more piece.”
Zhuang Fan remained on guard, raising his assault rifle and slowly retreating. “You’re not honest.”
“How so?”
“Are you sure I can live longer here?”
The herder chuckled. “I really ain’t lying. Their meat lockers are all full. Stay here, and you can live at least a week. Isn’t that much better than running around blindly outside?”
In Xu Renyi’s memories, those lone wanderers who survived long in the wilderness were not kind souls. Zhuang Fan was experiencing this firsthand.
“Waga! Wagaga!”
Atuoer flew into a violent rage at the sight of the assault rifle. At his call, more Greenskins charged over, wielding ironwood clubs and shields.
【Greenskin Clan: Mutated due to excessive radiation. Their skin is dark green and thick, unbearably foul-smelling, cannibalistic, mentally degraded, brutal, stubborn, with strong reproductive urges. Hostile to nearly all races.】
They weren’t much different from orcs.
After memorizing the Greenskins’ traits, Zhuang Fan’s tone turned colder. “Take another step closer, and I will definitely open fire.”
“Atuoer, his gun has no bullets. It’s a bluff. Just grab him.”
The herder pulled down the brim of his hat, then patted the sack at his side, his tone mocking: “Where would bullets come from? I’ve already picked them all clean. Right here.”
Zhuang Fan cursed inwardly, no longer forcing the issue. While the Greenskins were encircling him, he found a gap and broke out, escaping.
Along the way, over a dozen Greenskins jumped down from wooden towers. One of them swung a machete at Zhuang Fan.
To lighten his load, Zhuang Fan gave a fierce swing, and the assault rifle smashed into that Greenskin’s face.
“Whoosh whoosh whoosh—”
More than ten wooden spears tore through the air, falling in an arc, nearly hitting him.
Zhuang Fan didn’t concern himself with what was behind him. The first principle of escape was speed; the second was making full use of obstacles.
The current situation: there were no obstacles in sight, the terrain was flat and broad, an endless expanse of gobi desert. Moreover, the Greenskins’ running speed was in no way inferior to his.
He had really kicked an iron plate.
Half an hour later, Zhuang Fan was completely run ragged, stopping to gasp lightly, yet behind him were still forty to fifty Greenskins in relentless pursuit, shouting “Waga” as they ran.
Are they sick? Is it worth chasing this far?
Zhuang Fan carefully searched the old man’s memories. It turned out these Greenskins were not only stubborn but also extremely vengeful—they wouldn’t stop until their goal was achieved.
Fine, then all of you follow along.
Seeing this, Zhuang Fan changed his escape strategy, charging straight for the distant pile of rocks—the habitat of the Vulture people.
After rushing to the rocky pile, he found a crevice between rocks and squeezed inside, using the eerie fog to conceal himself as much as possible.
The Vulture people, their sweet dreams disturbed, hadn’t even processed what was happening before they saw a group of Greenskins charging aggressively their way.
The Greenskins truly were reckless, raising spiked clubs and shouting “Waga,” completely unafraid of enemies several times their number.
All the Vulture people bristled with rage, flapping their wings and taking flight. Without a word, they dove into a chaotic melee with the Greenskins.
The Vulture people generally shared the same features: long legs, pointed beaks, humanoid shape, covered in black feathers, and with a fair degree of rationality. Zhuang Fan could hear them roaring in fury.
“Damn, these stinking beggars are here again!”
“Are they crazy? How many times has it been!”
“They’re not crazy. They’re here to steal our prey.”
The instigator took advantage of the internal war between both sides to quietly slip away from the rear—a strategic retreat was the best option.