The rusty wind carried the gravel and blew hard on Shao Yan's face, like countless tiny blades cutting him. He opened his eyes suddenly, his chest heaved violently, his throat was so dry that it hurt, and every breath brought a burning sensation. What he saw in front of him was not the ceiling of the rental house he was familiar with, but a gray sky. Broken walls and ruins stretched endlessly in his field of vision. The low roars of zombies could be heard faintly in the distance, like the sound of an old bellows being forcibly pulled.
