Apocalypse King: Recruiting S-Tier Beauties With My Ruler System
Chapter 91: The Edge of Control

Chapter 91: The Edge of Control

Mu Qinglan POV

March 17th, 20xx— 10:08 PM

Longwan University — Linbei Campus, North Lab Block, Sector C2

—

The wall behind us detonated without warning.

I dropped flat and rolled behind the nearest overturned desk. Shrapnel bounced off the steel, a chunk of debris missing my face by less than a hand’s width.

"Fall back!" I shouted.

Deng Hua was already moving. He had Chen Xun slung over his shoulder — the smaller scout was conscious, barely, arm dangling, blood trailing behind them in a slick streak across the tile.

Guo Fan ran after them, empty-handed except for the pipe he kept waving like it meant something. Useless.

Liang Qiu came last. She turned mid-step, slammed the steel side door shut, and kicked a splintered table leg through the handle bracket.

"Structural breach upstairs," Liang Qiu said. "Undead incoming. Thirty seconds or less."

There was no time to respond to her.

I pulled the pistol from my belt — a knockoff 9mm that rattled when I moved too fast — and checked the magazine. Twelve rounds left. One spare mag in the side pocket, and another taped one to my thigh. That was all.

The gun that we stole from those damn idiots that attacked us, breaking the mood so John didn’t rail me.... Damn it! I hated this gun, but it was useful... wasting my stamina for these fools wasn’t worth it.

I glanced back once through the dust cloud. The far side of the corridor was gone — a blast hole ripped wide, venting white smoke from what looked like ruptured chemical lines. The fire suppression systems had failed; the heat was rising.

"We move south," I said. "Storage wing."

"That’s a choke point," Guo Fan replied. "Too narrow. They’ll flood it."

"I’m aware."

"But we won’t have room to—"

"Move."

He hesitated.

I stepped forward and shoved him.

"Don’t test me!" These fucking people coming between me and John. If not for them, I’d be with him now... There are too many zombies—this couldn’t be normal.

He stumbled, then ran. I didn’t watch where.

Deng Hua reached the next door and shoved it open with his shoulder. He dragged Chen Xun halfway through and dropped him against the far wall. I could see the blood soaking into his pant leg. Deep wound. Maybe groin artery. Unconfirmed.

We didn’t have time to confirm.

I crossed to them, gun up, keeping my line-of-sight back through the haze. Liang Qiu covered me — silent, reliable. She didn’t talk unless he had to. That made her quite useful. But I hated the way she looked at John...

It’s bad enough he’s with Yifei...

"Pressure plate’s gone," Deng Hua said. "I think it’s through."

I didn’t look.

"We hold this corridor. Reinforce both flanks. Use shelves."

"What about Chen Xun?"

"If he can shoot, he stays upright. If he can’t, put him behind a wall."

The lights overhead flickered again. Emergency red, pulsing in and out. A beat like a dying heart. Somewhere past the breach, I heard the first wet, dragging steps of the infected scraping through the debris.

I raised the pistol.

It felt too light.

I pointed to the shelves. "Use those. Block the left and rear."

Guo Fan hesitated. Looked at me like he needed more.

He didn’t get more.

"Now."

He moved. Finally.

Liang Qiu didn’t wait for instructions. She was already dragging a toppled table across the hall, bracing it against the blown-out doorway. Her arms flexed under the strain — lean, not bulky, but strong enough to get it done. No wasted words. No wasted motion.

I checked the side corridor — nothing visible yet, but I could hear them. The slow, irregular scrape of bodies against concrete. One of them moaned. Wet, ugly sound. Close.

Chen Xun groaned behind me.

"Keep him upright," I told Deng Hua.

He glanced at me, then back at the kid’s leg.

"He’s losing too much. I can’t patch this."

"You can press on it."

"He’ll bleed out."

"Then sit him in a corner and make him hard to see."

Deng Hua didn’t argue. He lifted Chen Xun under the arms and pulled him toward the side closet — shoved some boxes aside, cleared the line of sight to the door, and propped him upright.

A distraction was worse than a corpse.

The lights overhead flickered again.

Red. Red. Dim.

"What do these lights mean?!" My voice louder than I expected... but the heavy feeling in my chest just kept growing... John’s gun stopped shooting, and the last thing I heard was Shen Yifei’s yelp.

John.... don’t die.

The feelings constantly grew, but I was too awkward to share them... did he hate how stiff I was? Even during this moment, as we are about to die, I just wanted to know him better.

No, maybe that’s why...

"It’s the generator... it’s been damaged and the long pulses are the backup kicking in..."

Clack!

The lights became dim, with a dull red colour, but nothing too difficult. But it made it hard to see the floor well.

I counted three seconds between pulses now. Shorter than before. That meant we were losing auxiliary power. If the backup generator in C Block went down, this wing wouldn’t hold.

"Deng Hua... is there a time limit for backup power?"

"About 20 hours on low usage!"

There was enough time, we could find John and that woman he wanted to save... then escape. I got too comfortable with John and never expected it to be so hard.

John, people will flock to you in droves once they know the truth...

Guo Fan slammed the shelf into place across the rear hall and turned to face me as I broke out of my thoughts.

"Secured," he said, voice too loud.

I raised my pistol and took a position near the broken wall.

"One way in," I said. "We hold it."

Deng Hua joined me. He had a crowbar in one hand, something like a kitchen knife in the other.

"I get first hit," he said.

I didn’t answer.

The hallway went silent.

No footsteps.

No voices.

That was worse.

There were three ways to die here.

The corridor might hold for a few minutes if we reinforced it properly. But the flank entrances were too exposed, and the walls too soft. One breach would split us in half. The storage wing was a coffin—long, boxed in, with no vertical access since the upper stairwell collapsed.

First option: hold the line and get swallowed.

Second: break through the chemical dump room, where anything could be waiting.

Third: backtrack into the same breach we barely survived getting through.

All bad. Just a matter of choosing which version of death hurts less.

Guo Fan kept pacing near the side barricade. His hands hovered around his belt like he’d lost something he was too afraid to admit. He didn’t even realise he’d been muttering.

"Stop moving," I said.

"I’m not—"

"Then make yourself useful."

"I already locked it down."

"Do it again."

He stared like I’d insulted his ancestors.

I turned away.

Liang Qiu didn’t speak. She stayed kneeling near the front barricade, ear tilted toward the hallway. Listening to the noises, maybe she would find a way... the girl wasn’t useless despite annoying me.

I adjusted my grip on the pistol. Not because I needed to shoot — I just hated not holding it.

Scraping sounds echoed from the far hall. The rhythm was uneven — flesh slapping tile, slow feet dragging. A low cough, half-human. They were closing in.

I could feel something in my chest tighten.

It wasn’t fear. It was an absence.

John’s gun wasn’t firing anymore. Shen Yifei’s voice had gone quiet. Nothing on comms. No signal from his system. He was too quiet. Too far. Something was wrong. Even when my phone tried to dial him... it just went dead.

"What’s going on?"

"Closer," Liang Qiu answered.

Deng Hua rolled his shoulder, adjusted the crowbar in his hand.

"Don’t try anything clever."

"Wouldn’t dream of it."

I checked on Chen Xun. Still upright. Still conscious, but drifting. Pulse fading. At least he wasn’t screaming.

Guo Fan muttered again.

"We’re going to die in here."

No one replied.

He said it louder. "We’re going to die in—"

I stood up and levelled the pistol at his head.

He froze like I’d flipped a switch in his spine.

"Shut up," I said. "You’re noise. That’s all you’re doing."