Sweat dripped onto the ground, evaporating into a puddle.
Tang Xiaoquan leaned against the wall, trying to calm his heaving chest.
But, when it rains, it pours, and fate seemed to give him no such respite.
Because just as he leaned against the wall, ready to take a couple of breaths, a series of "crackling" sounds of bamboo and wood breaking came from behind him.
Tang Xiaoquan felt a chill run down his spine, for there was no need to look back; at that moment, the only possibility for such a sound was that the zombies ensnared by the wooden ladder had broken free.
What to do? His stalled brain started to work again.
Tang Xiaoquan glanced left and right, his mind rapidly making a decision.
In front of him was a commercial street running east and west, and from his estimation, the street stretched at least several tens of meters.
