His movements were swift and fierce, each swing of his sword carrying a resolute force. The long sword sliced through the air, creating a gust of wind as it fiercely slashed at the oncoming zombies. But the zombies kept coming, one after another, as if they would never be completely slain.
Xiao Yi's clothes were already stained with blood, and it was hard to tell whether it was from the zombies or his own. The blood coagulated on his clothes and was covered by the new blood, forming layer after layer of thick blood scabs.
His breathing became heavier, each breath like a bellows, rough and rapid. Sweat streamed down his forehead, stinging his eyes, but he had no time to wipe it away.
A zombie pounced from the side, Xiao Yi suddenly turned sideways, knocked it away with his shoulder, and swung the knife in his hand, chopping off its head. But another zombie bit his arm immediately, and he roared, used all his strength to throw the zombie away, and then backhanded a knife, ending its life.
His steps began to stagger, his strength rapidly depleting, but his will remained firm. Every step he took, he stepped over the corpses of zombies and blood, the ground was extremely slippery, and he would fall if he was not careful.
Another group of zombies surrounded him. Xiao Yi gritted his teeth and raised his knife again. His arms were shaking from the long battle, but there was no fear in his eyes. In this sea of zombies, he was like a lonely lighthouse, shaky but refusing to go out.
The zombies around were like a surging black tide, pouring in frantically from every corner.
In the distant streets, a dense swarm of zombies stretched as far as the eye could see. They moved with a staggering yet eager pace, their dragging footsteps intertwined to form a creepy, low roar.
In the dilapidated building, zombies squeezed out of the windows one after another, fell to the ground, and then quickly got up and joined the surging torrent.
In the dark alleys, zombies kept emerging, pushing and crowding each other, making terrifying roars, as if cheering for the upcoming bloody feast.
From behind the abandoned vehicles, zombies emerged like ghosts, their bodies twisted and deformed, some even with mutilated limbs, but this did not affect their pace at all. Instead, it made them look even crazier and more hideous.
Every time a group of zombies was defeated, more would come from all directions, like an endless army of demons released from the depths of hell. Their numbers seemed to have no limit, wave after wave, never stopping.
The area that had just been cleared was instantly filled with new zombies pouring in. They piled up layer upon layer, pressing against each other, their distorted faces and empty eyes making people feel a deep sense of despair.
Wherever you look, you can see the disgusting figures of zombies. They are like a never-ending nightmare, constantly approaching, as if they can never be killed off, and they want to completely devour the only remaining life in the world.
Xiao Yi's eyes were shrouded in fatigue, like a thick haze. Those eyes, once bright and sharp, were now bloodshot, and the muscles around them twitched slightly from prolonged tension. Despair, like cold frost, solidified in his eyes, as if endless darkness had swallowed up all the light of hope.
Yet, even so, the weapon in his hand never stopped moving for a moment. The long sword in his hand seemed to have become a part of his body, wielding it mechanically and firmly.
Each swing carried the last shred of his strength and stubbornness. His arms had long since ached to the point of near numbness, and every muscle contraction was accompanied by piercing pain, yet he still held the hilt tightly, refusing to let go even a little.
The long sword sliced through the air, bringing with it a whirring sound, but it also grew heavier. His fingers turned white from excessive force, and his joints were broken and bleeding from the constant friction, but he seemed to be oblivious to the pain.
As the zombies approached with their fangs bared, a flicker of determination flashed in his eyes, and he swung the knife fiercely again. In that moment, he seemed to forget the fatigue and despair, and only one thought remained in his mind: to fight on.
His eyes followed the trajectory of the knife, occasionally a flicker of confusion flashing across his eyes, but then it was replaced by determination. Even if the next second meant the end of his life, he would continue to wield the weapon in this second, fighting for the slightest possibility of survival with his last breath.
The zombies' roars were like rolling thunder, reverberating endlessly in the narrow space, deafening. The sound seemed to come from the depths of hell, filled with endless pain and madness, each one piercing the eardrums and reaching the depths of the soul.
Xiao Yi was in this terrifying clamor, his brows furrowed, his ears buzzing from the harsh sound. But he did not retreat at all, still gritting his teeth and struggling to resist the zombies' attacks.
His physical strength was rapidly depleting. Every swing of his sword, every dodge, every charge, was mercilessly draining the energy from his body. His once vigorous and powerful steps became heavy and slow, and every step felt like dragging a heavy burden.
His breathing became increasingly rapid, his chest heaving violently as he gasped for air, as if trying to suck all the air around him into his lungs. Sweat streamed down his forehead, blurring his vision and flowing into his eyes, causing a stinging sensation, but he had no time to wipe it away.
The pain in his arm had spread throughout his body, and every muscle was trembling and protesting in pain. The weapon in his hand seemed to be getting heavier and heavier, and every time he lifted it, he needed to use all his strength.
His legs began to weaken, his knees kept shaking, and he could hardly support his body. But Xiao Yi relied on his tenacious will to still hold on and continue to fight a desperate battle with the endless waves of zombies.
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