The final trace of golden light at Dustin’s fingertips faded as the head of the last zombie at the warehouse entrance disintegrated into dust. Thick, dark brown liquid splattered across the mottled bluestone floor, emitting a nauseating stench. Li Juntang leaned on his broken spear, his chest heaving violently. Shards of zombie bones were still embedded in the dents of his armor. He looked over the sea of fallen zombies, then turned to the white figure ahead. His eyes were filled with the relief and gratitude of a man who had narrowly escaped death. “Thank you, senior, for saving us. I will never forget this life-saving grace.” Li Juntang bowed deeply with clasped hands toward the figure in white floating above. Dustin’s white robe was untouched by filth. His gaze, sharp as an eagle’s, swept across the scattered remains of zombies. His brows furrowed slightly. “These were just small fry. Where is the real zombie horde?” Li Juntang’s expression turned grim at once. He looked southward t...