What?! I Became the Zombie Beauty in the Villain’s Arms – CH47

Chapter 47: Stop Her Next Time

Ying stood motionless, his lethal aura tightly concealed beneath his matte-black mask. Looking down at the crimson pooled around her boots, his cold eyes narrowed behind the visor. “I advise you not to push your clearance parameters any further.”

Pei Xiqing forced her breathing steady. “I merely intended to execute a visual audit of the sector.”

The exact second Ying had broken his cloaking field and stepped into her grid, the dense crowd of civilians who had been aggressively jostling for position instantly scrambled back, leaving a massive, vacant perimeter around his uniform. Not a single citizen dared to crowd a black division executioner.

“The tactical mechanics deployed on those assets up ahead defy standard civilian comprehension,” Ying stated flatly, his hoarse voice cutting through the heavy air. “If your biological system wishes to avoid a total neural collapse and dizzying nausea, I suggest you avert your visual sensors immediately.”

Pei Xiqing stood on her tiptoes, her gaze sweeping across the elevated execution deck. Dozens of heavily armed special ops ability users stood anchored at every choke point, their elemental fields pulsing in high-alert defensive arrays.

But the specific high-level administrator she had been subconsciously tracking was nowhere to be seen within the quadrant.

As they forced their way a step closer to the perimeter, the atmospheric data registered a massive, suffocating spike in toxicity. The air was no longer merely saturated with the hot, metallic scent of fresh blood; a thick, putrid stench of biological decay rolled over the plaza, materializing into an invisible weight that enveloped her senses.

Around their coordinates, several lower-tier civilians had already dropped to their knees, clutching their stomachs as they vomited violently onto the asphalt. Others took a single, horrified look at the stage before spinning on their heels, sprinting away into the dark corridors of the base without ever daring to look back.

An absolute, crushing silence settled over the remaining crowd.

Neurological depression, visceral nausea, and unadulterated despair saturated the collective consciousness of the sector.

Pei Xiqing had navigated through thousands of ravenous mutants along the frontier trail, forcing her mind to face the horror head-on. Although a wave of acute physical revulsion shadowed her expression, she resolutely advanced her steps to the absolute front of the line.

Her gaze locked onto the true parameters of the execution deck.

The entire concrete floor was a lake of streaming gore, littered with the mutilated remnants of human bodies whose skin, muscle, and bone matrices had been systematically stripped apart by heavy tactical blades. It was a shocking, unvarnished display of supreme judicial violence.

Her pupils contracted to razor-thin slits, but her cognitive controls held the line. She maintained a perfectly detached, calm facade on the surface, even as her stomach violently churned, her metabolic receptors rolling back and forth in systemic rejection of the sight.

Ying monitored her biometric stability, a trace of genuine surprise flashing beneath his mask. “Those specific assets were logged as the primary masterminds behind the regional black-market smuggling network. The high tribunal sentenced their lines to a mandatory hundred lashes with high-density kinetic whips, systematically fracturing their flesh and stripping their elemental cores from their nervous systems before termination. Within Franlun’s penal index, this is classified as a standard administrative clearance—but it serves as an absolute deterrent to the populace.”

“What are the precise data sheets on their criminal case?” she whispered.

“To summarize the file: they established an institutionalized network to smuggle high-yield military firearms, illegal black-market munitions, harvested human organs, and vulnerable civilian women out of the fortress,” Ying briefed her, his tone chillingly clinical. “Franlun’s internal execution squads tracked their transit lines through three separate sectors, but their cells continuously exploited systemic blind spots to evade capture. The critical variable is their body count: within a brief six-month operational window, their greed terminated over ten thousand lives.”

“What baseline drove the numbers that high?”

“Because the frontier is overflowing with displaced civilian assets identical to your previous profile—homeless refugees lacking military protection, stripped of a base registry, and entirely devoid of enhanced superpowers. When these vulnerable groups venture past the walls under the guise of foraging or clearing low-tier swarms, the smuggling squads execute a tactical ambush, secretly kidnapping ordinary humans who possess zero social leverage or tracking networks. They aggressively target the most defenseless demographics, entirely bypassing the base guard’s radar.”

Within the brutal economy of the apocalypse, a woman’s biological assets would always command a high transaction value on the black market. Once their lines were seized by a syndicate with malicious intent, the structural fallout was catastrophic.

Ying adjusted his sidearm sling, adding a darker layer of intelligence. “Regarding the organ harvesting, the bio-mechanics run incredibly deep. Franlun’s laboratory research confirmed that human genetic mutations and elemental superpowers are explicitly anchored within the neural pathways of the heart and the cerebral cortex. Consequently, several rogue scientific factions specialize exclusively in purchasing these biological components to artificially inflate their own combat tiers. They manually dissect the hearts and brains of living ability users, unraveling the neural matrices to forcefully graft the elemental powers directly into their own systems.”

Pei Xiqing had zero cognitive memory of how her boots manually navigated a path out of the suffocating crowd. She waited in absolute, frozen silence until the civilian columns began to scatter down the transit lanes, before ducking behind a massive titanium waste receptacle and violently heaving.

She vomited until her equilibrium fractured, her stomach acid burning her throat, until her metabolic system finally cleared the psychological shock and stabilized its parameters.

Ying offered zero verbal commentary on her distress.

In a single, fluid blur of motion, his massive frame dissolved back into the dark architecture behind her shoulder, his cloaking field locking back into place.

Pei Xiqing remained anchored a short distance from the execution deck, the putrid odor of the carnage still drifting past her jawline, but her mind demanded a temporary window of absolute isolation to process the data.

She retreated to a cracked concrete bench, sinking onto the cold surface as she stared blankly out at the towering high-rise blocks on the horizon.

This wasn’t her first shift navigating this post-apocalyptic world.

Yet, the sheer structural horrors governing human society far exceeded her baseline comprehension and psychological tolerance.

I want to pack my utility kit, retreat to the wild frontier, and simply exist as a quiet half-zombie, she thought bitterly.

But what structural algorithm could guarantee that the moment she crossed into the wild, an elite human extraction squad wouldn’t track her viral signature, forcefully clamp alloy hooks through her jawbone, and lock her inside a titanium containment cage for profit?

Pei Xiqing understood that her internal psychological framework lacked the hardened, cynical experience of a seasoned wasteland survivor. Her past life had been a sterile, disciplined grind for professional advancement. The absolute nadir of her previous timeline was nothing more than a temporary financial crisis—shamelessly sprinting across every production set in Hengdian, begging casting directors for a disposable supporting role, and absorbing a continuous stream of verbal humiliation during auditions.

Those were standard hurdles engineered along the path of a traditional career choice, and her will had easily conquered every single variable.

The problems that had seemed like monumental crises to her previous consciousness were completely microscopic now, entirely irrelevant compared to the visceral landscape before her eyes.

This universe was so systematically corrupted and terrifying; no wonder the pre-written script required the destined protagonists to aggressively overthrow the old high command, purge the corrupt factions, and construct a utopian new infrastructure from the ashes.

Standing dead center within the timeline, she finally decoded the narrative logic of why the hero and heroine were destined to forge an unbreakable alliance to dismantle this empire.

Pei Xiqing rested her chin in her palms, sitting entirely isolated beneath the iron eaves of an abandoned storefront for the remainder of the afternoon shift. As the sun dipped beneath the titanic alloy walls, her tracking system suddenly flag a critical oversight: Long Yan had personally handed her an unlocked titanium credit card to secure clean tactical gear and toiletries, yet her psychological preoccupation had completely derailed her schedule, causing her to lose track of the time until now.

Catastrophic timing.

She hadn’t harvested a single piece of supply or purchased a replacement top; she had absolutely zero clean options to wear for the night cycle.

She scrambled off the concrete bench, running back toward the commercial boulevard Long Yan had highlighted.

Her visual sensors were so intensely focused on navigating the cracked blacktop at a dead sprint that her radar completely failed to scan the dark, damp perimeter of an active security cell flanking the lane.

Directly inside the threshold where the shadows met the fading twilight on the ground floor, Duan Xiaolin stood perfectly upright, using a white cloth to calmly wipe a smear of fresh crimson from the cold steel muzzle of his custom firearm.

Two high-tier black division operatives, wearing the signature matte-black masks of Franlun, stood anchored behind his shoulders like statues.

One of the specialists was delivering a low-frequency intelligence report, her head bowed in absolute submission. The administrator kept his heavy eyelids lowered. A captive criminal lay crumpled at his boots, having just taken a high-velocity round at point-blank range, dark blood slowly trickling from the wound to coat the concrete. Duan Xiaolin’s expression was a monument of freezing, oppressive dominance, the sharp lines of his brows and jaw looking completely unyielding.

The dying criminal executed a convulsive twitch, attempting to crawl toward the light as a desperate, muffled plea for a stay of execution left his lips, only for the administrator’s heavy boot to shift, pinning his spine to the floorboards. “Extract the asset,” he commanded flatly.

The operatives instantly dragged the body across the concrete, leaving a thick, glistening trail of dark gore tracking straight toward the subterranean disposal chutes.

Another permanent stain of blood was officially logged into the stone floor of the black site.

Duan Xiaolin executed a smooth pivot, stepping out from the shadow of the water prison into the open courtyard. His eyes narrowed to sharp slits as his visual sensors locked onto the distant, slender silhouette of the girl frantically running down the boulevard.

Ying’s form materialized seamlessly at his left flank. “Her navigation vector crossed the execution plaza earlier, sir. She didn’t intercept your private cell liquidation, but her sensors recorded the full aftermath on the deck. Her metabolic receptors initiated a violent rejection protocol afterward; she spent the past few hours in a severe state of cognitive disorientation.”

Duan Xiaolin’s jaw tightened, his green eyes turning freezing behind his lenses. “Intercept her line and block her clearance before she reaches a restricted zone next time.”

“Understood, Judge.”

“I am adjusting my tracking vector to monitor her baseline personally. Return your unit to the high tribunal.”

“Yes, sir.”

Pei Xiqing accelerated her pace toward the commercial boulevard, continuously checking the digital timer interface on her smartphone as she ran.

An absolute failure of a check-in, she grumbled internally. She had spent an entire afternoon shift drowning in a psychological haze, her processors completely paralyzed by the novel’s plot variables, and she hadn’t captured a single digital frame for her log.

The shift window was closing rapidly.

Sprinting around a blind corner, her physical momentum overrode her evasion protocols, and she crashed heavily into a civilian frame. To her surprise, her optical sensors finalized a match: it was the old vegetable vendor who had cleared her navigation channel hours earlier.

“Apologies… clear the path… it was entirely my miscalculation!” Pei Xiqing gasped, instantly dropping into a crouch on the blacktop to help gather the scattered wild greens that had tumbled from the wicker basket. “I am executing an immediate transaction to purchase your entire remaining inventory.”

The old woman rapidly waved her hands, her wrinkled face softening. “Bury the panic, child. The kinetic impact didn’t disrupt my vitals. Do not log it as a crisis, little girl. This old grandma is perfectly fine.”

“My system requires these exact uncultivated greens for my ration pot tonight anyway. I’m transferring the credits now.”

“Is that the calculation?” The merchant offered a warm nod, stacking the bundles back into the weave. “Cook them down well, child. But which specific elite commander commands your registry? Purchasing raw rations at this late hour… I run a high probability calculation that your domestic head will deploy a severe verbal reprimand against your station if your arrival is delayed.”

Pei Xiqing blinked, slightly puzzled by the archaic social metrics of the base. “The data shows zero risk of that variable. My timeline faces absolutely zero danger of being scolded.”

“If that is the reality, the baseline is optimal. This old grandma needs to accelerate her transit to prep dinner for her own cell; otherwise, my spouse and son will execute a massive wave of anger. But since your transaction has completely cleared my inventory for the shift, their metrics won’t have a justification to complain. Thank you for the resource transfer, girl.”

“Navigate the path safely, grandma.” Pei Xiqing reached into her windbreaker to retrieve Long Yan’s titanium card while stacking the final bundle of greens.

Suddenly, a long, slender, and impossibly elegant hand slid into her field of vision, smoothly lifting the remaining vegetables from the asphalt.

Pei Xiqing snapped her head up, her breath catching in her throat. “Brother Duan?!”

Duan Xiaolin stood framed against the twilight, his gold-rimmed glasses perfectly catching the reflection of the base floodlights. “Does your current metabolic profile demand these specific greens?”

“Mhm… sort of…”

“Package the entire inventory,” he ordered flatly, looking down at her.

The exact second the old vendor locked eyes with his face, every drop of color violently drained from her features. Her lips began to tremble uncontrollably, her vocal receptors completely paralyzed by pure, unadulterated terror; she couldn’t forge a single word.

Duan Xiaolin reached into his pocket, extracting a high-density, flawless crystal core and smoothly holding it out to her.

The old woman remained completely frozen like a block of dead timber, terrified to move a muscle before his presence.

It was only when Pei Xiqing quickly reached out, took the crystal core from his palm, and gently pressed it into the merchant’s calloused hand that the old woman’s nervous system finally reset. Clutching the high-value currency against her chest, she executed a sequence of frantic, trembling nods, surrendered the entire wicker basket into their space, and spun on her heel—sprinting away into the dark alley without ever daring to look back.

Pei Xiqing’s brow furrowed as she watched her run. “What specific variable triggered that reaction in her system?”

“Perhaps her internal clock indicated her dinner protocol was running critically late,” he replied smoothly, his tone entirely level.

“Does a delayed dinner protocol trigger that level of systemic panic inside this stronghold?”

“Affirmative.”

Her brow pulled together into a tight frown.

She watched the man quietly drape his heavy formal overcoat over his left forearm—the fabric carried a microscopic, fresh smudge of crimson along the cuff.

He smoothly took possession of the heavy ration bag from her fingers, his dark green eyes softening with an unvarnished, mesmerizing gentleness as he analyzed her flushed profile. “The vast majority of civilian assets inside these walls operate under that baseline of terror, little zombie,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, intimate purr. “But your timeline will never be permitted to register within that demographic.”

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