Apocalypse King: Recruiting S-Tier Beauties With My Ruler System
Chapter 87: Last Stand

Chapter 87: Last Stand

John Wang’s POV

March 17th, 2025 — 9:51 PM

Longwan University — Linbei Campus, North Lab Block, Main Entrance

—

The wall shook under another slam.

Fine powder drifted down from the cracked ceiling, the scent of rust, blood, and old concrete choking the air.

I adjusted the Type-9K in my grip, fingers flexing over the cool polymer frame.

Beside me, Shen Yifei shifted her weight nervously — spear angled high, feet planted a little too close together.

I tapped her shin with my boot.

"Wider," I muttered, keeping my eyes on the broken doors.

She nodded, adjusting — copying my stance in a rough but eager mimicry.

Good enough.

My new spear still didn’t feel comfortable, a weapon that didn’t quite suit me as much as I tried.

But there wasn’t enough time to try something new.

The lobby was half-collapsed — broken support beams jutting down from the ruined ceiling, old furniture and overturned tables pushed into makeshift barricades.

We had about three meters between the wreckage and the front entrance.

Three meters of killing ground.

The dead began to show through the shattered windows — blank-eyed, twitching, dragging broken hands against the glass.

The glass didn’t last long.

A spiderweb of cracks spread out with a shriek.

Then the first pane shattered inward.

They flooded in.

Five at first — then ten — then more.

I raised the Type-9K calmly and squeezed the trigger in short, sharp bursts, three shots each.

Heads snapped back.

Bodies jerked and dropped.

[John Wang Kill: Stage-1 Infected — ZKP +5]

[John Wang Kill: Stage-1 Infected — ZKP +5]

[John Wang Kill: Stage-1 Infected — ZKP +5]

The system flickered at the edge of my vision, but I barely registered it.

Too many.

More climbing over the corpses of the fallen, clawing at each other, snarling.

"Left!" I shouted.

Shen Yifei spun clumsily but fast, driving her spear deep into the gut of a charging zombie.

It barely staggered.

"Push it!" I roared.

She screamed, gritting her teeth, and shoved harder, twisting the shaft.

The infected toppled sideways, thrashing.

Her movements were rough, but they were great. I noticed her skill with spears reached level two, and I could tell that she’d been practising a lot in secret. Maybe when Qinglan and I left the base, but it was impressive to see.

The first wave was thinning — bodies piling up across the front, broken and leaking.

For a moment.... a brief moment, I thought we could hold it.

Shen Yifei must have thought the same.

I caught the shift in her stance — the way her shoulders straightened, how she lunged out, chasing the staggered corpses that were still twitching, not moving away but falling apart under the hits.

Her spear jabbed lower, sharper, faster, striking at anything still squirming.

Overextending.

Too eager.

Too far from cover.

"Yifei! Fall back!" I shouted.

I opened my mouth to call her back...

The second wave hit before my shout even finished.

The sound was like a thousand fists hammering steel.

The outer field where I’d seen them gathering broke like a dam bursting —

hundreds of bodies pouring forward in a howling tide.

The pressure of it shattered the remaining windows, sending debris flying.

A few of the front-row infected tripped over the bodies.

The rest didn’t and used the momentum for the falling debris to come faster, much heavier and hungrier for blood.

Shen Yifei jammed her spear into a zombie’s chest and pulled — but the shaft caught.

She slipped, body crumpling in slow motion.

"John!" she screamed, arms flailing. "Help!"

Another infected latched onto her wrist — another grabbed her shoulder, gnashing teeth inches from her throat.

"Damn it!" I cursed, my gut twisting sharp and cold.

There was a feeling of anxiety in my chest, heavy and cold. The sense of safety and victory extinguished with cold water as I moved instantly, vaulting the shattered desk between us, the Type-9K firing short, brutal bursts — with a popping snap, their heads snapping back and bursting like melons.

[John Wang Kill: Stage-1 Infected — ZKP +5]

[John Wang Kill: Stage-1 Infected — ZKP +5]

The infected holding Yifei dropped.

But more clawed at her.

’System, I need a grenade... anything!’

Though my bullets wouldn’t run out, if they overran the main building, everything would collapse, and our job wasn’t to fight like martyrs!

I reached out and grabbed the collar of her jacket and yanked her backwards, hard enough to lift her off the ground. Her small hands clutched my arms, desperate. Boots slipping on blood-slick tiles, I half-dragged, half-carried her backwards as the infected swarmed.

"Are you bitten, Yifei?"

"N-No!" she gasped, eyes wide, tears threatening but not falling.

I stomped one zombie’s face in — felt the bone collapse under my boot...

Then flipped the Type-9K back up and emptied another burst into the oncoming mass.

Bullets punched through skulls.

Some fell.

More came.

The front entrance was gone — swallowed under hundreds of snarling bodies, a black wave clawing toward us, the air thick with rot and blood.

No more holding.

No more delaying.

There were too many, even the sub-machine gun couldn’t finish this.

And there was no time, either.

I hooked my arm around her waist — hoisted her onto my shoulder, her weight slamming into me — and ran.

Ran as hard as I could.

Blood pounded in my ears.

The roar of the dead behind us grew louder with every step.

I sprinted for the only salvation left:

The narrow entrance that the system pointed out earlier.

—

March 17th, 2025 — 10:15 PM

Longwan University — Linbei Campus, North Lab Block, Side Hall

—

The side entrance door slammed behind us.

Old steel scraped the frame with a screaming grind as it shut.

I dropped Shen Yifei onto her feet hard enough that she staggered, nearly falling.

"Stay," I snapped — more reflex than thought.

Outside, the roar of the herd slammed against the building, rattling the thin walls.

I didn’t wait.

Boots hammering the cracked floor, I grabbed the nearest piece of debris — a heavy filing cabinet, rusted and half-collapsed — and slammed it across the inside of the doorframe.

The impact sent a shudder through the walls.

Another table.

A fallen steel shelf.

Anything heavy or with some weight.

I shoved it into place, layering the blockade piece by piece, fast and dirty.

A low, heavy thud hammered against the outside of the door, warping the metal inward slightly.

The barricade creaked but held.

For now.

An eerie silence filled the dark passage, and I couldn’t help but catch my breath after blocking the entrance. If only I could use my system to build or dismantle useless things. The muffled noise of the dead slamming uselessly against the outer walls broke the silence.

The dim hallway stretched ahead, littered with broken shelves and collapsed cabinets, blocking any straight path forward.

I exhaled slowly, adjusting the Type-9K across my back, rolling my shoulders once.

Behind me, I heard it — a small, choked breath.

Not a shout.

Not a cry.

A hiccup, sharp and fast, like she was going to hyperventilate.

I turned my head slightly and froze for a moment.

Not because I was surprised.

But because of how fast she moved.

Shen Yifei grabbed my jacket in both fists, slammed her forehead against my chest, and held on like if she let go the whole damn world would break open under her feet.

She shook in my arms, whimpering slightly as tears dripped down her cheeks. "I thought..." Yifei trembled as she hugged me tighter, rubbing her face and nose against my shirt, but she was fine and alive... just a little stressed.

Like a wire stretched too tight.

"It’s okay, don’t be upset."

I rubbed her back, watching the distance and preparing myself. This wasn’t a safe zone, but forcing Yifei to move now would be retarded.

Her breath hit my neck — hot, broken, desperate.

A short amount of fighting and we both started to smell, sweat, rotten blood and a sense of fear.

"Thank you," she said. "Thank you, John..." A small, but honest voice, lacking her usual tone, was spoken in such a low voice that I almost missed it.

I let her stay in my arms while using the time to recover.

Let her press closer, shaking against me.

Her heart punched wild through the thin fabric between us, a frantic, ugly rhythm.

She shifted once, just enough that I felt it — a twitch like she was thinking about pulling away.

She didn’t.

Her fists remained locked around my back, eyes closed tight.

I sighed quietly and lifted my hand and set it on the back of her head and held her there.

"You did good," I said. "We’re both still breathing."

Nothing amazing came to mind, so I just spoke the truth. No lies.

A second passed. Maybe two.

Then she peeled back, just a little, wiped her face hard against her torn sleeve. A quick, scrubbed motion like she was washing the moment off her skin.

I didn’t say a word.

Neither did she.

There wasn’t room for talking.

Just breathing.

Just standing there, alive, in the middle of everything that wasn’t.

For now.

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