The Demonic Cultivator In Zombie World novel Chapter 7

The Haotai Hotel was a mere three kilometers from the Walmart. Yet, this journey was no longer through a society with flowing traffic, but rather through a city at the end of the day, overrun with zombies.

The streets were cluttered with abandoned vehicles and toppled billboards, and the path was anything but clear, fraught with myriad obstacles. It took a van a full two hours to finally reach the supermarket.

The car door swung open with a whoosh.

Zhao Hong alighted swiftly, followed by three dogs: Dahei, Daho, and Erho, the most loyal, cunning, and ferocious of his spirit hounds.

Zhao Hong cast a skeptical glance around. His vision and hearing, far superior to that of ordinary men, easily discerned something unsettling near the supermarket: an eerie quietude, devoid of even the faintest growl of zombies, with only the occasional scurrying of rats.

He was no stranger to territories ruled by high-level zombies, but such desolation and silence were unprecedented.

"Let's go in and have a look," he suggested, pointing towards the Walmart Supermarket. At his command, the spirit hounds growled softly and advanced into the supermarket via three different paths. Shortly after, their howls echoed through the building.

Zhao Hong furrowed his brow. Experienced in the nuances of canine sounds from his days in the dog business, he knew these barks signaled no danger.

"Leave someone with the car, and come up with me," he said casually.

"Yes," replied a sturdy man, stepping out of the car with bolstered courage to lead the way.

Soon, Zhao Hong and his companion reached the fifth floor of the supermarket unimpeded. The scene before him made his heart skip a beat. Five years had passed since the outbreak of the zombies, and he had grown accustomed to sights of gore.

However, this bizarre spectacle was new to him. Throughout the supermarket, from the first to the fifth floor, were scattered bits and pieces of zombie flesh. It was the height of summer when flies should swarm, yet none dared approach this place.

The sight on the fifth floor was particularly dreadful. Several large bathtubs lay there, each containing only a layer of dried, black-red blood filled with impurities.

In a nearby corner, two desiccated, emaciated zombies lay, their bodies riddled with holes from which red plants sprouted, though now these plants were all dead, having seemingly sucked dry all the nutrients from the zombies.

A tightness gripped Zhao Hong's chest at this chilling discovery.

"Boss... what should we do now?" The stalwart man beside him trembled visibly.

"Are you cold?" Zhao Hong suddenly asked.

The man shivered, "Cold, very cold. The temperature here is very low."

A sense of dread inexplicably rose in Zhao Hong's heart. The outside temperature was at least thirty degrees. Yet, inside the Walmart, he felt chilled to the bone. This was utterly abnormal.

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Zhao Hong knew well that one must not linger in places that defy normalcy! "Let's go." He dared not stay any longer and turned to leave.

Once back in the car, he slowly regained his composure. "Did you bring gasoline?" Zhao Hong, lighting a cigarette and exhaling rings of smoke, suddenly asked.