I am the Zombie King of the Apocalyptic World
Chapter 1712 - 1706: A Dream Too Short to Savor

Chapter 1712: Chapter 1706: A Dream Too Short to Savor

The body of Yang Xiangfeng looked as if it had been hacked into a pulp with a knife, only barely preserved as a whole by the luxurious "mold" of the Divine God Armor. But even so, his wide-open eyes, although unfocused, still captured the remnants of his will. During the process of plummeting from high above towards the Zombie King, he had already died.

She shook her head, lacking the ability to close his eyes, she could only lock him back into the Divine God Armor and lift his body.

"Let’s go, the other protagonist is arriving soon, staying here would be unreasonable."

She spoke to Chen Bieli and without waiting for a response, carried Yang Xiangfeng away into the distance. After a moment of silence, Chen Bieli followed her closely, leaving together.

On the other hand, the nearly vaporized Ghost Head’s exploded blood mist scattered over that vague presence, only to be absorbed swiftly. It didn’t care if he survived or not; to it, he was merely an ant. A bizarre shadowy form drifted out from the blood mist, the matters here resolved, next would be that troublesome figure!

At this moment, Sanctuary City had almost become a desert; there were hardly any traces of the demon sound zombies. The area initially taken over by the demon sound horde was completely replaced by the silver-armored zombies, and in the distance, a silver tide surged like a tsunami!

An indistinct existence charged into the zombie horde, and the surrounding silver-armored zombies froze as if turned to stone, their entire bodies convulsing violently as if something was trying to burst out from within. Soon, the bodies of the numerous silver-armored zombies turned completely liquid, drawn towards that indistinct presence by overwhelming gravitational pull.

Suddenly, it halted its high-speed advance and rapidly returned, to the spot where Ghost Head had turned to blood mist. A piece of flesh, spared by some chance, began to swell, with the Level 8 silver-armored zombie’s grotesque regenerative ability rapidly repairing the damaged body!

"Am I...dead? No...I’m not dead...I’m still alive..."

His consciousness dipped from clarity to obscurity as if being forcefully submerged in water, nearly suffocating before abruptly being pulled back out. But before he could take a breath, he was pushed back under again. He didn’t know if this was the sensation of dying — a silence, a darkness where time seemed inert. The next time his consciousness stirred it felt like waking from an endless dream. If death felt like this, perhaps it was tolerable.

From within the writhing mass of flesh, a hand extended, gently inserting into the sand pile before him, granting him a sense of touch. In a world of darkness, he tried to stand. After much struggling, he realized he only had one hand, clutching a fistful of sand when he closed his fingers.

His newly awakened self spent what little strength was regained on this single act, and the hand soon released weakly clutching the sand, consciousness fading once more. He dreamed of waking in that familiar farmhouse, seeing an elderly woman with a bowl of brown sugar rice porridge, a memory sharp and vivid — from when he loved eating such porridge as a child.

"Grandma...is it you..."

"Feeling better? Here, I got this from the city."

Hearing that aged, utmost familiar voice, Ghost Head felt dazed, tears unwittingly brimming in his eyes. He wanted to hug this person immediately, yet in the dream, he couldn’t perfectly control his body, unable to perform the desired action as if all strength had been drained.

"Rest well first."

"Grandma... okay."

He watched his grandmother leave the room, a heart filled with happiness, picking up the bowl of brown sugar rice porridge, taking a spoonful into his mouth, savoring the nostalgic yet seemingly nonexistent taste, listening to the patter of rain outside, glancing at the hazy distant rain through the window. He wore a content smile.

He remembered this scene: as a child, playfully catching crabs with friends, falling into a ditch, scraping his arm. Returning home, casually attending to it, but soon inflaming, developed a fever. After the hospital, he slept on until now, waking to his grandmother bringing a bowl of his favorite sugar porridge.

No longer the child who failed to appreciate; returning to now, he solely wished to carefully, repeatedly savor this bliss.

Taking another sip of porridge, he gazed enamored at the scenery outside, gradually placing down the bowl, extending a hand intending to feel the rain upon his palm. Just as he reached beyond the window, everything vanished in an instant — the lush Green Mountain, rustic village wine and vegetables, raindrops’ serene sounds on rooftops, raincoat-clad wanderers treading distant paths, laughing children running carefree in the rain carrying wild lotuses, even a scolded child on a cow’s back further away, all disappeared in a moment of outreach!

All warmth and beauty collapsed in an instant, faced with blackness, he felt the passage of time, the dream brief yet swift, leaving him little chance for contemplation.

He opened his eyes, returning to reality, seeing strange tree roots on the sand before him.

"Uh..."

He groaned, voice coarse with pain, this suffering not of flesh but soul. He sensed his consciousness being consumed by void, detecting explosive power within his grip, as if to destroy worlds. His thoughts turned bizarrely agile yet weak, like a flickering candle flame ready to extinguish.

"Zombie King...?"

Murmuring two words, hesitant to raise his head, lacking strength to do so, for with great power his body felt exceedingly heavy!

Uncertain if the other heard, it didn’t matter as there was no response, nor did he expect one. Instead, he plunged into the just uttered words, gradually recalling temporarily forgotten memories.

Brother Shi was dead, Wu Zhixiong was dead, and Lian Yong was dead too!

He couldn’t forget the laughter and joviality in the Information Engineering Management Building when they swore allegiance, amusing as they did so to a deity whose name they couldn’t pronounce. Funny, wasn’t it? Yet those scenes seemed among the few happy moments in his apocalyptic life, etched deeper in his mind. It made him abandon fantasizing, dreaming, as overwhelming anger erupted in his heart!

"Zom—bie King!"