Apocalypse King: Recruiting S-Tier Beauties With My Ruler System
Chapter 149: Cold Steel and Pale Flesh

Chapter 149: Cold Steel and Pale Flesh

March 20th, 1:05 PM — Longwan Mall, Rear Loading Corridor

Mu Qinglan POV

——

It didn’t wait.

The moment I shifted my footing, the Ghoul exploded forward — no wind-up, no snarl, just speed. It leapt across the blood-slick tiles like its body lacked weight, like a cloud, long arms arcing down like blades.

I raised Endless Night.

Steel rang as its claws met my sword.

The impact shot down my bones. I twisted, deflected — but it’s second strike coiled in from the side, joint twisting in a way that wasn’t human. Not even close.

I stepped back, breathing shallow. One gash opened across my thigh, cloth tearing, blood spreading through the fabric like ink in water.

Its claws dragged across the tiles as it followed, crouching, shoulders hunched like a stalking hound. No sound. Just breathless intent. Its face was still blank, still silent — and yet I felt it watching.

Calculating.

Trying to understand how much I had left.

Another strike. Low this time — it skidded into a slide, arms scissoring at ankle height.

I jumped — barely.

The edge of its forearm carved through the hem of my coat.

My boots hit the ground again with a jolt. I planted one foot, twisted, and slashed down hard.

The blade kissed flesh.

White fluid hissed against the air, spraying across its chest. It staggered back two steps — but didn’t fall. Not even close.

My lungs burned with fire, from lack of oxygen and overuse.

My legs ached.

Still, I kept moving. Cutting. Blocking. Every strike now was a split-second away from death.

The Ghoul wasn’t just fast.

It was aware.

It pressed again, claws dragging sparks from the blade’s edge as we locked. I turned my hips, shifted left, then rammed the hilt of my sword into the hollow between its ribs.

It flinched.

Just slightly.

Then its head twisted. I mean, really twisted. The neck bent back on itself, too far, the motion cracking like bones rubbed raw — until the blank face was staring upside-down into mine.

I swallowed bile.

Its arm came crashing down.

I blocked, but my right hand numbed on contact. My shoulder buckled. I stumbled sideways, gasping as blood rushed back into my arm.

"—glhh... Qing—lan..."

The sound crackled through my earpiece.

I froze for a heartbeat. My body moved on instinct — roll, dodge, slice.

I pivoted away, heart pounding harder now for more than one reason.

"John...?"

Static.

Nothing more.

The Ghoul had paused, too. It turned its head slowly, as if it had heard something too.

Then it pounced again.

This time, I caught the claws with the flat of my blade, kicked off a crate, and sent both of us crashing sideways into a display shelf. The impact split wood and bent metal.

I hit the floor first.

The Ghoul landed above me.

I rolled, slashing across its leg — it jerked back, hissing steam from the open wound.

I stood again.

Breath rough.

Ribs burning.

It was learning.

Every second we fought, it became more precise.

And yet—

So was I.

Clang—!

It struck again.

A whip-fast arc aimed for my throat — too wide, too early. I moved before it committed, ducking low under the swing, blade slicing upward from my hip in a counter-motion.

Steel tore across its chest. White fluid sprayed the tile again. It twitched—staggered, but didn’t fall.

Its claws scraped the wall as it backed away. Not retreating. Resetting.

It’s learning.

But so was I.

I breathed through grit teeth, grounding my stance. I could feel the torn muscle in my thigh, the pulsing in my ribs. Wounds that should’ve crippled me.

But they didn’t.

The pain was distant, real, but thin. Like something beneath my skin filtered it. Softened it.

No. Not softened.

Adapted to it.

My body moved before my thoughts finished. Each breath was easier now. Sharper. The pain was there, but it no longer dictated my motion. I could feel my pulse slow, muscles tightening in rhythm, movements syncing not with panic... but with precision.

This wasn’t just training.

It was evolution.

My eyes locked on the Ghoul.

We’re the same, I thought, just for a heartbeat. No... not quite. I’m still me.

Then I rushed forward.

The Ghoul shifted, prepared for a high swing.

I didn’t swing.

I kicked.

My boot drove into its shin, cracking the limb sideways — the joint bent with a sickening crunch, but it still didn’t fall. It turned mid-motion, letting itself fall backwards to roll and recover.

I chased it. No hesitation.

My sword came down in a sideways slash, but it caught the blade again. This time with both arms.

The force of the clash sent a spike through my shoulder. The Ghoul shoved forward — we slammed together. I twisted, dug my foot behind its leg, and threw us both against the crates.

It flailed. My blade pulled free.

Then—

"—ssssss! Qing—... Coming—now—Hold On!"

John again.

His voice staggered through static — distant, broken, strained. But there! He was coming, he said he was coming to me!

I don’t understand, and those simple words created a storm in my body and mind.

Cold... streaks of ice grew along my blade... my stomach felt hot, despite the frigid ice qi inside me.

"John! I’m—"

The Ghoul reacted.

It struck the side of my head with its elbow, sharp and deliberate. My skull rattled. My legs buckled.

It knew that voice mattered.

I fell to one knee.

My grip loosened.

The Ghoul’s claws came down—

I rolled, barely escaping the strike. The tile shattered where my head had been.

I came up, coughing blood, hand still gripping Endless Night.

My fingers trembled. The blade’s edge gleamed with smeared white and red.

End it.

I turned my stance, exhaled once, and the world seemed different... everything turned blue and red... the ghoul’s body with several red lines and marks...

What is this?

Ice qi flowed through my blade and around my wounds, closing them temporarily. Cold, yet secured.

The Ghoul was shifting again, slower this time. One leg twitched wrong. A cut leaked too much fluid. The chest wound hadn’t closed.

It was healing slower.

That was all I needed to see.

I could win this.

Even if I had to kill it piece by piece.

Its limbs moved out of rhythm now.

The Ghoul’s balance had shifted. A damaged leg. A slower coil in its spine. The marks across its chest still hissed, still leaked that pale sludge. It was weakening.

But so was I.

And yet—

I didn’t feel pain.

Not anymore.

A low mist crawled over the floor. Not smoke. Not dust. It was cold.

Coming from me.

The hilt of Endless Night had frost along the guard. A faint glow bled from the runes carved into the base of the blade. Pale blue veins crawled up my wrist, webbing beneath the skin.

My blood had slowed.

But I wasn’t slower.

I was clearer.

Like my breath had become glass, my nerves wired into every motion. This must have been the thing John gave to me in bed... after I made love to him to remove Shen Yifei from his mind... The Ice Orchid Sutra... something that made sex amazing.

It was awake now.

The Ghoul moved.

I moved faster.

A pivot off the right foot. I slid under its outstretched arm, the edge of my sword brushing along its ribs — not a slash, a cut, deliberate and sharp. The white liquid burst across the wall behind it.

Then froze... the healing stopped.

It twisted mid-air, trying to catch me with an elbow strike, but I was already past it.

My movements flowed like water around it.

No, not water.

Like ice.

Cold. Sharp. Unstoppable.

The Ghoul turned, faster now, desperate — its claws flashed toward my throat. I stepped forward instead, under the arc of its arm, and slammed my hilt into the side of its skull.

Crack.

Bone split.

It reeled.

I didn’t give it a breath.

I stepped into its space, chest to chest.

My left hand gripped the back of its arm.

My right thrust Endless Night upward, into its torso.

All the way in.

The blade hissed — frost laced the wound, and a violent spasm ran through its limbs as Ice Qi exploded into its chest.

It tried to scream.

But it had no mouth.

Instead, it shivered. Violently. Head twitching. Back arching.

I twisted the blade once and pulled it free.

It staggered, two steps back.

Three.

Then it dropped to one knee.

Steam poured from its wounds.

White matter leaked in pulsing waves, but the ice qi started to freeze... causing the healing to slow, almost stop!

It tried to stand again.

Didn’t make it.

And for the first time... it didn’t recover.

Its body slumped forward. Limbs twitching.

But not rising.

I stood still, sword low, chest heaving.

The mist crawled along my skin.

And the cold receded.

Endless Night still shimmered. But the frost faded from my arm.

"Just a little more... please...."

I begged my failing body — the pain, damage, and injuries only slowed by the ice...

"—Qinglan—can you... hear me now...?"

I tapped the side of the comm. "I’m here."

His breathing sounded horrible — breathless, relieved.

"I’m coming."

The Ghoul twitched again, once, and then flung back into the vent... a loud bang sounding before it vanished.

My hands thrust Endless night into the ground, as my body collapsed to the ground.

I wasn’t supposed to survive.

But then again... I’ve never been good at dying on time.

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