Chapter Sixty-Three: The Dark Shadow

Immediately, Lin Dong turned to Tank and his group and instructed, "I'm going out for a while. Keep an eye on the place. Things might not be peaceful lately."

"Don't worry, boss," Tank replied with a goofy smile.

In the next moment, Lin Dong's figure gradually receded, disappearing quickly at the distant street corner.

Tank gazed after him, feeling a pang of emotion. The boss had just brought back a pile of food and was now heading out to hunt again. His heart brimmed with gratitude.

He’s so diligent...

...

After leaving his territory, Lin Dong entered his concealed state, moving silently like a phantom through the ravaged streets, disturbing not a single blade of grass.

A short while later, he reached the museum district. Sensing his surroundings, he felt something was amiss.

A cold wind swept by, tinged with the scent of blood. Above the museum loomed a mass of dark clouds, pitch-black as ink. The clouds pressed so low they seemed about to smother the rooftop, intensifying the oppressive atmosphere.

Thunder rumbled, lightning darting through the clouds like silver serpents.

The wind grew fiercer still... Its mournful howl swept through the city, stirring up clouds of dust and sending plastic bags swirling through the air.

Lin Dong’s keen eyes fixed on the scene ahead.

The vast museum resembled a slumbering beast. Bloodstains covered the surrounding area, scattered corpses of zombies lay about, and all was eerily silent, exuding an aura of death.

Yet Lin Dong could sense three living humans inside, hiding and radiating the scent of panic.

But whatever threatened the three... Lin Dong couldn’t detect it at all.

"How strange. What could it be?" he mused, stepping forward and using his corpse domain ability to phase through the wall.

With the gloomy weather, the museum’s interior was even darker, illuminated only by the occasional flash of lightning.

Lin Dong scanned his surroundings.

The ground was strewn with debris, shattered glass, dried blood, and bodies reduced to skeletons.

These were the marks left when the apocalypse first struck. The museum had been crowded that day—a disaster zone.

Bloodied handprints smeared on the walls told of desperate attempts to escape...

Lin Dong pressed on, heading towards the three living presences.

Soon, in a dim corridor, he found three figures running, gasping for breath.

"Hurry up! I feel that thing is catching up!" one called out.

"Bin, I think it just wants to wear us out—like a cat toying with mice," another said, brows furrowed with worry.

Jiang Wenbin tried to reassure them. "Don’t worry! My brother said to hang on. He’ll be here to save us soon."

"When will Cheng get here?"

"Probably... soon!" Jiang Wenbin endured solely on the thread of hope in his heart.

But what he didn’t know was... Jiang Wencheng was everywhere now, having merged with countless zombies.

The three quickly reached the end of the corridor.

Ahead was a room. With no other choice, they pushed the door open and entered.

The room was spacious—nearly two hundred square meters—emptiness echoing within. Paintings hung on the walls, some had fallen, their frames shattered and glass fragments scattered everywhere.

"No way out!" said a young man with dark skin.

"Shh—" Jiang Wenbin gestured for silence, "Don’t make a sound. We’ll hide."

"Alright," the two companions agreed, shrinking into a corner, backs pressed against the wall for a sense of safety.

Little did they know, Lin Dong was concealed within the wall behind them, watching the trio.

He had no intention of acting yet.

Killing them would be effortless, but the most important thing was... the lurking presence inside the museum.

He could feel it now.

Since the three hid in this empty room, a certain presence was drawing nearer—ethereal, as if not corporeal.

"Is it really a ghost?"

In this apocalypse, many inexplicable events occurred, but Lin Dong had never seen a true spectral ghost...

A flash of lightning split the sky, blinding light flooding the room.

Jiang Wenbin’s anxiety grew; his instincts told him death was drawing closer.

He pulled out his phone and sent another message.

"Brother! Where are you? I’m out of options!"

But after a long wait, there was no reply.

"Damn!" Jiang Wenbin cursed under his breath, but he trusted his brother deeply. The two had depended on each other since childhood. He would come for him... he had to!

Suddenly, a strange feeling crept over him.

Jiang Wenbin looked up.

He began to examine the paintings on the wall, his gaze flicking rapidly. At last, he spotted an odd portrait.

It seemed to be a painting of a black man, his face as dark as coal, features obscured, save for sharp fangs in his mouth and fierce eyes that glinted with menace, like a demon from hell.

"Hey, you two, look—isn’t that portrait of the black man really strange?" Jiang Wenbin tapped his companions.

"Huh?"

...

The two looked at him in surprise, following his gaze.

"Bin, which one are you talking about?"

"The one right in the center!"

"I don’t see anything. There’s nothing there."

Both were baffled.

Jiang Wenbin grew agitated, unable to hold back his frustration. "Are you blind? Right there—"

But halfway through his retort, he turned to look and froze. The portrait had vanished...

At that moment, one companion spoke softly, "Bin, the one in the center is a window."

Another flash of lightning lit up the spacious room.

Jiang Wenbin saw clearly now—the spot where the painting had hung was indeed a window!

It wasn’t a painting, but something was really watching them.

"Holy hell!" In that instant, chills ran from his feet to his scalp, his skin prickling.

The terror was suffocating.

"I saw it... I just saw it! Run!"

Jiang Wenbin bolted down the corridor, wild with panic.

"Huh? What did you see?" his companions asked, bewildered. Seeing him run and panic, they followed suit.

But then, a shadow slipped through the window crack, merging into the darkness, an apparition from the depths of hell.

The shadow flickered, pursuing the three at incredible speed.

In a flash, it caught up to the last one.

With a burning claw, as if wreathed in black fire, it pierced through the person’s back. Warm blood sprayed, splattering onto Jiang Wenbin and the other’s heads.

"Ah?"

The two were petrified, instinctively turning to look.

They saw a towering shadow, its claw driven into their companion’s chest, lifting him into the air.

He wasn’t dead yet, legs flailing weakly, eyes bloodshot, mouth agape, blood bubbling out.

"Help... help me..."

...