As you continue forward, the landscape gradually becomes dilapidated.
Destroyed villages began to appear along the roadside, with houses reduced to half-walls, collapsed roofs, and charred beams and pillars.
Occasionally, you can see the remains of some dead livestock, with only skeletons and fur remaining, the meat having been completely eaten.
Lin Feng's gaze swept over the ruins of those villages without lingering, but he slowed down slightly.
Jiang Zhaoyue, standing slightly behind him, said in a low voice, "The undead race's advance is... faster than expected."
Jiang Yelan didn't reply, but her gaze swept downwards.
The three flew for a while longer, and the density of undead on the ground increased significantly.
The previously scattered patrols have transformed into a vast array of gray and white dots, spreading out along the main road and fields.
Some skeletons were rummaging through the ruins, while others marched eastward in crooked lines, as if they had just been drawn from a completely destroyed stronghold.
Many skeleton soldiers noticed the commotion above them. Their gray skulls tilted back, their empty eye sockets following the three rapidly passing figures. Then they opened their jaws and let out a short, sharp hiss.
Hearing the sound, the surrounding undead warriors took a few steps and chased after the three with their rusty swords raised, but the three were too fast, and they didn't even have time to identify the direction of the afterimages.
The three figures had already swept overhead, quickly shrinking into three black dots and disappearing into the horizon.
Occasionally, a few arrows would fly up from the ground, their force loose and their trajectory unsteady. Jiang Zhaoyue dodged one by sidestepping, while Jiang Yelan casually swung his Shadow Moon Blade, knocking away another.
About an hour later, the scenery ahead gradually changed.
The gray-black color on the ground faded, revealing sparse greenery, and the smell of decay in the air was much fainter than before.
Jiang Zhaoyue slowed down a bit: "We've reached the east side of Graystone City. The vegetation in this area hasn't been completely destroyed by the undead army yet. If we go a little further southeast, we can bypass the main battle zone."
Just as Lin Feng was about to respond, he caught an unusual commotion about two hundred meters behind him out of the corner of his eye.
Four figures were running towards them along a dry ditch, stumbling and moving slowly. One of them was carrying a child in his arms.
Behind them, three undead warriors were chasing at a steady pace, gradually closing the distance.
Let's rewind to more than three hours ago.
Inside the south gate of Graystone City, in the shadows at the base of the wall, three people sat leaning against the wall.
The sounds of battle from the city walls rose overhead—the dull thuds of impacts, roars, and the occasional blast of horns—all mingled together and could still be clearly heard through the thick stone walls.
But no one paid attention to those sounds; they had been listening to them for seven days, and their ears had learned to treat them as background noise.
Carter looked down and inspected his bowstring, running his fingers slowly along the bow arm to make sure there were no cracks.
"Is the string okay?" the person next to him asked.
“No problem,” Carter said. “I had it repaired at the blacksmith’s yesterday, so it should last for a while longer.”
Sitting next to him was Mark, 29 years old, the only one in their group who could withstand a direct confrontation.
The round shield in his hand was bought from the black market; it was white and had pitifully low defensive capabilities, but in a place like this, having a shield and not having one were two different things.
They knew they were novices, three Level 7 Awakeners, at the very end of Graystone City's defense sequence, the reserve of the reserve, usually responsible for transporting supplies and delivering arrows, and occasionally filling in for the wounded on the city walls.
They went up the city wall once, only to catch a glimpse of the dark, surging tide of undead outside before being replaced.
But they didn't complain about why they were only at level 7 after so many years, at least not to their faces.
Because there was something in Graystone City that made them not want to leave—those people, those native soldiers.
Carter and his team enjoyed chatting with them, not for missions or intelligence exchanges, just for conversation.
They talked about the battle situation on the city wall today, whether the soup in the canteen was too salty or too bland, and how an old soldier on a certain watchtower got scolded by his superior for yawning yesterday.
The indigenous soldiers speak slowly, listen attentively to what you have to say, and then reply with a serious "Oh, I see."
There are no short videos, no emojis, and no "read but not reply" messages.
Carter said he felt these people were more human than the people of Earth, a sentiment he hadn't shared with the natives, but he felt in his heart.
Just then, several people came down the steps inside the city wall. They were wearing gray leather armor in the style of Graystone City and were holding halberds with black and red marks still on the blades.
The leader was a burly man in his forties with a short beard and rough lines on his face from the wind and sand, but his eyes were very bright.
Carter recognized him immediately and raised his hand to greet him, "Uncle Paul!"
Paul saw them, grinned, and walked over. Several halberdiers followed him, two of whom sat down against the wall, halberds on their shoulders, and began stuffing rations into their mouths.
"Another switch on defense?" Carter asked.
“Hmm.” Paul squatted down and handed a water bag to the person next to him. “The wave in the south has temporarily retreated, but another wave is coming from the north. The east gate is relatively quiet, but who knows how long it will remain quiet.”
Mark leaned closer: "How long have you been fighting at the South Gate?"
“It started last night.” Paul wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. “Bone fragments are stuck in my nails, I can’t scrape them off. Tonight should be a bit easier, at least around the south gate...”
His words were interrupted by a loud bang.
It didn't come from the city wall, it came from the sky. The sound from that direction seemed to be torn apart by something, and the air itself seemed to vibrate.
Everyone looked up, and then, "The North Gate has fallen!!!"
Someone on the city wall was shouting at the top of their lungs, their voice as sharp as if it had been scraped by a knife.
