Chapter 76: From Terror to Folklore

The journey from Lancity to Baidu was a staggering path spanning over a thousand grueling miles across unforgiving terrain.

To reach their destination, the massive, rambling convoy of heavy military transports, improvised civilian trucks, and battered supply trailers had to navigate down dangerous, winding hairpin mountain roads before embarking on a treacherous trek through a vast, sun-bleached desert.

As the miles accumulated beneath their heavy tires, the physical remnants of human civilization grew sparse.

Crumbled asphalt, completely collapsed bridge spans, and deep fissures tore through the mountain passes, making the onward trek increasingly rough and painfully slow with every passing day.

As the dense, ruined urban structures of Lancity faded far behind them, the landscape opened up into vast, exposed stretches of barren rock, winding cliffside trails, and an endless ocean of pale desert sand.

Without the towering skyscrapers, concrete alleyways, and subterranean sewer networks to offer dark cover, Summer’s forty-five Elite puppets could no longer maintain their stealthy patrol.

Out in the stark light of the open wilderness, their greyish-blue forms became completely visible to the thousands of weary survivors peering out from the canvas-covered beds of the trailing trucks.

The very first time the civilians caught sight of the grey figures sprinting in flawless military formation alongside the highway, a wave of sheer terror tore through the entire column.

Panicked screams echoed across the convoy, mothers clutched their children tightly against their chests, and soldiers hastily raised their rusted rifles with trembling hands, fully expecting a bloody horde assault.

However, as the time passed, that visceral terror slowly gave way to absolute, wide-eyed awe.

The survivors watched in utter disbelief as these greyish-blue ferals ignored the human vehicles entirely. Whenever wandering packs of wild, mutated beasts or ravenous zombie hordes charged down the rocky mountain slopes toward the exposed flanks of the convoy, Summer’s puppets moved with terrifying, preternatural speed.

One and her elite vanguard intercepted every single threat with calculated, lethal efficiency, tearing through the wild monsters before a single drop of human blood could be spilled on the snow-dusted sand.

To stem any potential widespread hysteria before it could ignite into a chaotic stampede, the military command had taken quick action.

Through the crackling walkie-talkies and emergency radio receivers mounted inside every transport vehicle, the central broadcast system issued a repeated, official announcement.

The clear, calm voice of an officer echoed through the truck cabins, informing the public that these formidable, organized zombies were not an invading horde, but the personal, bound guardians under the absolute command of the Rogue leader’s young daughter.

This single revelation swept through the migrating populace like wildfire, drastically shifting the public’s perception.

The small girl who had once been viewed as a terrifying, anomalous monster was suddenly elevated into a legendary, revered figure of safety.

Without Summer having the slightest clue, her informal fan club, the notorious ’Chubby Mafia’, began expanding its ranks at a mind-boggling pace across every single vehicle in the caravan.

Inside a crowded, canvas-topped supply truck near the rear of the column, the thick air smelled of stale canvas, exhaust fumes, and cheap wool blankets.

A group of elderly survivors and tired mothers sat huddled together on wooden crates, watching the grey shadows vault effortlessly over a rusted boulder alongside the road.

"Look at them go," an old man with a weathered, leathery face muttered, adjusting his thick wool cap as he marveled through the open flap of the truck. "Not a single one of those vile beasts even gets within fifty yards of our wheels. I haven’t slept this soundly since the first week the sky broke."

"It’s all thanks to the little lady," an elderly woman sitting across from him replied softly, her trembling hands clutching a wooden rosary. "My grandson told me she’s no bigger than a second-grader, yet she controls those terrifying warriors like her own private army. Heaven must have sent her to protect us weak fools."

"Hmph, heaven?" a middle-aged woman holding a sleeping toddler chimed in, a fond, emotional smile touching her dry lips.

"If you ask me, she’s sweeter than any angel. Did you see her yesterday when the column made a brief stop at the mountain spring? She was wearing that tiny little backpack, marching around like a general, but the moment my boy offered her a piece of dried peach, her crimson eyes lit up like Christmas candles!"

"I saw that too!" a teenage girl near the edge of the truck bed blurted out eagerly, her cheeks flushing red with excitement.

"She tried so hard to look cold and unbothered, taking the peach with this stern, serious face, but she was practically bouncing on her toes as she chewed it! She’s so adorable! Some of the young men in truck seven are already making a handcrafted carved wooden shield for her as a token of gratitude!"

"Don’t you dare let her catch you calling her cute," the old man chuckled warmly, shaking his head. "The kids from the lower district say she likes to be called the Chubby Boss! If you call her little or sweet, she will scowl at you until her cheeks puff up!"

A collective, gentle laughter echoed through the cramped truck bed, momentarily washing away the heavy dread of their uncertain future. Across hundreds of similar vehicles rolling across the dusty highway, similar conversations were taking place.

Stories of Summer’s immense strength, her adorable antics, her love for sweet snacks, and her fierce protection of her friends were shared among the survivors like sacred folklore.

To these desperate, exhausted people who had lost everything to the apocalyptic darkness, the little zombie girl had unwittingly become a shining beacon of hope, a living guardian angel wrapped in an arrogant, chubby package.

Meanwhile, at the very head of the migrating column, the heavy lead command vehicle rolled smoothly across the flat desert stretch.

Summer was sitting comfortably on the padded front passenger seat beside her mother, completely oblivious to the fact that thousands of humans behind her were worshipping her as their savior.

Her tiny feet dangled far above the floorboards, swinging rhythmically back and forth to an imaginary beat. Her small, dark eyebrows were tightly knitted together in profound concentration as she stared out the side window at the vast, desolate landscape.

Her small stomach let out a loud, hollow grumbling noise that echoed distinctly inside the warm cabin.

"Still hungry, my little star?" Salma asked softly, her dark green eyes softening as she reached out with one hand to gently stroke Summer’s dark hair.

"Mmh..." Summer let out a long, pathetic whine, her little hands pressing firmly against her empty stomach. "The desert has no good candies at all. One and Two haven’t found a single Elite zombie in two whole days. Everything out here is just weak, bony trash."

Salma’s lips twitched upward into a fond, indulgent smile. She reached into the glove compartment, pulling out a small, carefully preserved box of sugar-coated fruit jellies that her scouts had scavenged from an underground luxury bunker days ago.

She opened the lid and offered one to Summer.

Summer’s crimson eyes instantly sparkled with unholy delight. Forgetting all her stoic dignity, she snatched the jelly, shoving it into her mouth and chewing with bliss, her chubby cheeks expanding as she swallowed it whole.

Through their faint soul link, Shadow sighed with profound relief.

’At least the sugar keeps her mind off the craving for human flesh for a little longer. But Corruption is right... if we don’t find a proper cluster of Elites or a Lord soon, her hunger will reach a critical point before we even glimpse the gates of Baidu.’

Salma watched her daughter lick the leftover sugar crystals off her tiny fingers, her inner warmth instantly cooling into a razor-sharp focus as she glanced into the side mirror.

Something is wrong...