Apocalypse King: Recruiting S-Tier Beauties With My Ruler System
Chapter 82: Breath of Dust

Chapter 82: Breath of Dust

John Wang’s POV

March 17th, 2025 — 8:50 PM

Longwan University — Linbei Campus, Pharmacy Exterior

—

I hit the street a second before the roof caved in.

Concrete and steel crashed down behind us in a roar of pulverised stone and screaming metal. A shockwave slapped the air flat around me, tossing dust and burning grit into my eyes, my mouth, my ears.

I didn’t stop moving.

Zhou Xue’s weight was slung over my shoulders — lighter than she should’ve been, all bone and blood and shredded muscle. She let out a breathy gasp against while clinging to my back, her fingers clutched weakly at my jacket, but she stayed conscious.

Good.

I staggered over broken stones, but finally caught my footing and bolted across the rubble-strewn street, boots slamming hard against cracked asphalt. Every breath burned like sucking in sandpaper.

Behind us, the pharmacy finished collapsing, the last of the roof falling with a wet, crumpled roar.

Couldn’t think about it.

Couldn’t afford to look back.

Survivors scattered into the streets ahead — some limping, some dragging each other, most just running blind. No formation. No plan. Just pure animal panic.

Mu Qinglan and Shen Yifei cut through the chaos, clearing the path. Qinglan led, cold and sharp, the Type-9k barking in quick, surgical bursts. Yifei was clumsy but stubborn, stabbing at anything that moved too close, her spear slick with black blood.

The infected didn’t chase hard yet.

They were still busy tearing at the ruins.

We had minutes. Maybe less.

I sucked in a breath, nearly gagged on the dust, and forced my legs to move faster.

Zhou Xue stirred weakly.

"Put... me down," she rasped, voice cracked raw.

"Not a fucking chance," I grunted.

She went still again, not arguing, just breathing in shallow, painful gasps against my shoulder.

Good girl.

A broken chunk of wall crashed down a few feet to my right, sending shards of brick skittering across the road. I veered left without slowing, knees screaming, lungs shredding with every pull of air.

The gate.

We had to make it to the goddamn gate.

Another cluster of infected stumbled into the street ahead — maybe fifteen, maybe more. Hard to count through the swirling dust.

Mu Qinglan didn’t hesitate.

She tightened her grip on the Type-9k, brought it up one-handed, and emptied a short, savage burst into the first three zombies in front of her.

Two went down clean.

The third kept moving with half a face, twitching.

Qinglan hooked the SMG around her back immediately — the magazine dry — and shifted her stance. She caught the next infected across the jaw with her metal bat, the impact snapping bone with a sharp, ugly crunch. Blood splattered the pavement.

Another quick step forward — another heavy swing — she crushed the next skull flat against a broken street sign. Her movements were rough now — less clean, less precise — but they were still powerful and dangerous.

Shen Yifei followed behind her, screaming something hoarse and wordless, charging in low with her spear braced forward. She stabbed one through the stomach and used the leverage to pivot into another, half-spinning under its flailing arms.

I adjusted my grip on Zhou Xue, her weight shifting dangerously as she half-slipped.

Had to keep moving.

Had to get clear before the whole street fell into chaos again.

The University’s outer wall loomed ahead — broken, yes, but still a barrier. Still, something to put between us and the flood that was coming.

Five more meters.

Three.

A scream tore through the street behind me — someone getting caught, ripped down. I didn’t look. Couldn’t help them. Wouldn’t support them. Survival wasn’t about being a fucking saint.

Only two things mattered:

The ones who stayed.

The ones who didn’t.

I made the broken hole in the wall, ducked under a twisted rebar snag, my back scraping rough stone hard enough to tear cloth and skin. Didn’t stop.

Zhou Xue whimpered once but held on.

I staggered into the ruined courtyard inside the university grounds and dropped to one knee, setting her down as carefully as my wrecked arms would allow.

She slumped against a half-fallen column, coughing hard, blood flecking her lips.

Alive.

Still breathing.

I looked at her — really looked — for the first time.

Bruised. Cut. Bloodied.

But alive.

Still fighting even now, fingers clenching weakly into fists like she was ready to swing at the next thing that moved.

That dead spark in her eyes — the one I’d seen before — it hadn’t gone out.

If anything, it burned hotter.

Good.

I needed fighters.

Not corpses.

I pulled my system interface up, flicking to the tally list as the dust settled.

[Combat Summary]

Mu Qinglan Killed: Stage-1: 36 — EXP +360 / ZKP +180

Shen Yifei Killed: Stage-1: 24 — EXP +240 / ZKP +120

John Wang Killed: Stage-1: 11 — ZKP +55 | Stage-2 Brute: 1 — ZKP +50

Total ZKP Gained: +405

Total EXP Gained (from allies only): +600

The numbers rolled past the corner of my vision.

Felt hollow.

Didn’t matter right now.

I stood, wiped the blood and grit from my mouth with the back of my hand, and turned my head toward the shattered courtyard stretching out into the dark.

This was only the beginning.

Longwan University was a battlefield.

And now...It was my battlefield.

—

We cleared the broken wall just as the pharmacy collapsed behind us, a roaring mess of stone and screaming metal. Dust chased us into the courtyard like a living thing, curling through the air, blinding, choking.

But inside the perimeter... There were walls. Watch posts. Survivors.

Lights glared down from towers made out of scrap scaffolding and twisted sheet metal. Sandbags lined the open spaces. They built barricades using desks, old cars, and wire fencing. Rough. Ugly. But working.

Guards — real guards, armed with batons, machetes, even a few battered pistols — shouted from the towers when they saw us coming.

"Identify yourselves!" one barked, voice cracking through a beat-up megaphone.

I didn’t stop.

Didn’t slow down either.

I had Zhou Xue slung over my shoulder, bleeding and coughing. Shen Yifei dragged two scared kids behind her. Mu Qinglan flanked me, her bat dripping black blood.

We looked like hell.

The guards recognised it, too. I saw their stances stiffen — weapons rising a little higher.

Trouble.

They smelled it on us already.

The others behind us — the pharmacy survivors — dragged themselves in through the ruins, coughing, bleeding, some half-collapsing.

The ones who had stayed behind.The ones their leadership had already written off.

I slowed only once we were well past the outer barricade.

Zhou Xue slipped down against the base of a rusted-out army truck, breathing shallow but steady.

Around us, the courtyard buzzed with low, tense energy. Some survivors stared at us, the others edged away. The guards muttered into radios, watching us like wolves eyeing a wounded deer.

We weren’t welcome or trusted here.

And unless I made a move fast, we wouldn’t last long inside these walls.