The Cost

Fat Butcher howled miserably in agony, staggered back two steps, and dropped onto the ground.

He was only A Rank, so naturally he was no match for Lin Dong.

That single slash had already severely wounded him.

However, the Zombie Underlings around him heard Butcher's cries. Desperate to protect their master, they immediately gave up chasing the humans and swarmed toward Lin Dong.

Looking up, there were zombies everywhere, packed so densely that not even water could pass through.

Yet Lin Dong stood where he was, watching quietly without moving.

Suddenly, countless vines shot out from behind him like arrows tearing through the air, instantly piercing those zombies and even stringing some of them together like candied hawthorns.

Then Little Eight flickered into view. In the blink of an eye, her bone claws sent several zombie heads flying.

"Roar—"

A thunderous roar rang out, followed by several thousand Ace Elites rushing over. They had originally been war machines bred for slaughter.

Some of the more powerful zombies had physiques that had reached B+ Rank. They knocked enemy zombies down one after another, smashing their skulls with a punch or snapping their necks outright. Swift and ruthless, each of them could take on ten ordinary elites alone.

"So strong!"

The severely wounded Fat Butcher sat on the ground, his face filled with terror as the last shred of hope in his heart vanished.

Where had these zombies come from?

Fat Butcher felt that these zombies alone could wipe out the five thousand elites he had brought.

The Zombie Underlings around him were quickly slaughtered.

Those thousand-plus Ace Elites could be called Lin Dong's personal guard. Every one of them stood ramrod straight, radiating fierce killing intent as they guarded Lin Dong. No other zombies could approach.

Holding his longsword, Lin Dong