"Hehe... roar."
A spry zombie with pale rolling eyeballs and a mouth brimming with viscous liquid, was the most robust figure among the horde, its condition more intact with only its arm bitten.
This zombie surged forward, growling as it clawed at Lin Fan.
Silver light flickered from the blade, slicing through the zombie at the waist as smoothly as a knife through tofu, without a sound.
There were simply too many zombies.
With one slain, zombies lunged from all directions - front, back, left, right - a path that spelled certain death for anyone, a road devoid of the slightest hope.
Lin Fan was terrifyingly composed, the Frostmourne in his hand instilling him with courage, while the three-dimensional data on his display was key to successfully eliminating the zombies.
Spinning on the spot, the Frostmourne traced a circular ripple, its swift strokes and hefty force creating friction with the air, generating scorching gusts that cleaved the onrushing zombies.
