He has been reincarnated through countless worlds, adorned with billions of mythological terms!

Yun Yi withdrew his gaze and followed Yun Tianheng out of the room.

Two men in black suits stood in the corridor, wearing headsets and sunglasses, their faces expressionless.

Seeing Yun Yi come out, he slightly stepped aside to make way.

Yun Yi walked past them and smelled a faint scent of disinfectant.

It's not ordinary disinfectant.

It's the kind that's only used in laboratories.

His steps did not falter.

……

Downstairs, the car has already started.

A black minivan was parked at the entrance, its engine humming softly.

The car door was open, and Sister Liu was sitting in the last row, her face pale and her hands clasped together.

Wen Ruotang sat in the middle row, wrapped in a thick coat, holding Yun Nian in her arms.

Yun Nian was still asleep, her head resting on Wen Ruotang's shoulder, a trace of drool at the corner of her mouth, clutching a plush rabbit in her hand—Yun Yi had caught it for her at the mall when she was three years old. It was terribly ugly, but she treasured it and took it everywhere she went.

Yun Yi got into the car and sat next to Wen Ruotang.

Wen Ruotang glanced at him and reached out to pat his head.

"It's fine."

she says.

His voice was very soft, just as gentle as when he held the newborn baby in the hospital and said, "You're quite strong."

But her hands were shaking.

Just like back then.

Yun Yi did not dodge her hand.

The car started moving.

We drove out of the residential area, onto the main road, and passed through those still-sleeping streets.

The sky began to lighten.

Looking in the rearview mirror, Yun Yi saw Yun Tianheng standing at the door, his figure getting smaller and smaller, farther and farther away, until he became a black dot and disappeared into the morning light.

He did not get on the bus.

Yun Yi withdrew his gaze and looked at the street scene rushing past the window.

One by one, the streetlights went out, and the sky gradually brightened.

People started appearing on the streets—jogging, walking their dogs, and buying breakfast.

Steam rose from the steamer baskets at the baozi shop, people were looking at their phones at the bus stop, and the traffic lights changed repeatedly—everything was the same as usual.

Nobody knew today would be different.

Yun Yi leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

He was counting.

They drove through several intersections, made several turns, and drove onto several overpasses.

He was taking notes.

Record the route, the landmarks along the way, and everything that might serve as a reference point.

It wasn't that he didn't believe Yun Tianheng's arrangements.

He was just giving himself some insurance.

After driving for about forty minutes, the car entered an underground parking lot.

The parking lot was large, dimly lit, and had a damp, musty smell in the air.

Several cars were already parked there.

It was black, just like their car, and had no markings.

The car stopped.

Sister Liu got out of the car first, and then a man in a suit opened the car door and reached out to help Wen Ruotang.

Wen Ruotang waved her hand and carried Yun Nian out of the car.

Yun Nian was awakened by the movement. She opened her eyes groggily, looked around, and pouted.

"Where is this?"

"A safe place."

Wen Ruotang said.

"Where's Dad?"

"Dad...come later."

Yun Nian gave an "oh," buried her face in Wen Ruotang's neck, and closed her eyes again.

Yun Yi got out of the car and stood in the parking lot, looking around.

This is a large underground facility—not an ordinary underground parking garage. The ceiling is at least five or six meters high, the ventilation ducts are as thick as buckets, and the fire doors on the walls are as heavy as those used in bank vaults.

They followed the man in the suit through a fire door and into a long corridor.

On both sides of the corridor are white doors, without windows, only numbers—A07, A08, A09…—that stretch to the unseen end.

The man in the suit stopped in front of door A12 and swiped his card.

The door opened.

Inside was a small room with three beds, a bathroom, a TV, and a table.

There was a small window on the wall, high up, letting in a little light.

Please rest here.

The man in the suit said, "You can ring the doorbell if you need anything."

He pointed to a red button on the bedside table, then turned and left.

The door closed.

The sound of the bolt hitting the keyhole was very soft, but it was exceptionally clear in the quiet corridor.

Click.

Sister Liu took Yun Nian from Wen Ruotang's arms, placed her on the bed, and covered her with a blanket.

Wen Ruotang sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the closed door, without saying a word.

Yunyi stood by the window, tiptoeing to look outside.

The window was high up; he needed to activate his eagle eye to its maximum to see anything outside.

A gray, hazy sky.

In the distance, there are the outlines of several buildings, which look like an industrial area.

Further away, there was a chimney, emitting white smoke.

There was nothing else.

He got down from the window, sat on his bed, and waited quietly.

He didn't know what he was waiting for.

But he knew what he was waiting for.

……

Later that day, Yunyi sensed it.

It's not what I heard, nor what I saw.

It's an intuition that seeps from the very core of your being—like a needle silently piercing the thin membrane of air and releasing something.

His skin broke out in fine goosebumps.

The scales stirred beneath the skin, as if something was calling to them.

He suppressed it.

But my fingers were trembling slightly.

It wasn't out of fear, but because his body was telling him—something was coming.

He only watched snippets of the news that day.

Sister Liu turned on the TV and tuned to the news channel. The anchor, with a serious expression, was reporting a breaking news story:

"...Several cases of unexplained high fever, vomiting, and confusion have emerged in the city. Patients exhibited aggressive behavior after being taken to the hospital...The CDC has launched an investigation. Citizens are urged not to panic and to minimize going out..."

The scene cuts to the hospital entrance.

The ambulance lights flashed, and medical staff in full protective gear pushed the stretcher inside.

The person on the stretcher struggled violently, emitting a sound that was not human—a low, hoarse roar, as if squeezed from the deepest part of the throat.

The scene quickly cut away.

Sister Liu changed the channel, then changed it again, and finally stopped at an animated cartoon.

A pink pig was jumping around in the mud puddle, making "oink oink oink" laughter.

Yun Nian woke up, rubbing her eyes as she sat up.

What was that sound?

"It's nothing, let's watch TV."

Sister Liu turned the volume down.

Yun Nian stared at the pink pig for a while, yawned, and lay back down.

Yun Yi sat on the edge of the bed, his mind racing.

High fever, vomiting, confusion, and aggressive behavior.

Protective clothing.

An industrial area with chimneys emitting white smoke.

Project B-7.

CDC.

"It's too late."

The pieces were pieced together.

It's not some ordinary virus—it's a zombie virus.

Yun Tianheng already knew.

He knew the virus would break out, he knew when, and he knew its scale.

He might even know that the virus originated from his laboratory.

So he sent his family here. A pre-prepared, safe, and secluded place.

But one thing is wrong.

Yun Yi glanced at the tightly closed door.

The door was locked from the outside.

He didn't care about that—that door couldn't hold him back.

He cared about something else: Yun Tianheng didn't get on the bus.

He was outside, in that city that was being devoured by the virus.

What is he doing?

Clean up your own mess?

Or something else?

Yunyi leaned against the headboard.

I can hear a child crying in the next room.

They weren't the only family there; there were others as well.

He closed his eyes and began to listen.

The sounds at the end of the corridor, the breathing next door, the sound of air flowing through the ventilation ducts overhead—and outside this building, in that city being devoured by the virus, things he couldn't hear but were definitely happening.

Crying, shouting, footsteps, and inhuman roars.

He can't hear.

But he knew they were there.

Yun Yi looked down at his hands.

The hands of an eleven-year-old child are fair and tender, with scales lying quietly beneath the skin, like a sleeping beast.

He clenched his fist.

Not urgent.

Suddenly, a series of hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor—not the men in suits, their steps were not as steady, but rather hurried.

Then came a scream, very short, like someone had been choked, only half a syllable before it stopped.