Chapter Fifty-Three: Walking One’s Own Path

Rebuilding Civilization

Looking back at the convoy growing ever more distant, Xie Han gazed at the ten people seated calmly inside the minibus and asked in a low voice, “Are you afraid?” To be honest, Xie Han was quite satisfied with the subordinates brought by Taishan. Not only was Kong Fu strong, but he was also a crack shot. Even when faced with immense danger, he maintained a passion that never lost its composure. Just like this time, though everyone knew the operation was a near-certain death, no one questioned him—there was only obedience.

Of these ten, the leader was Ah Mu, one of Taishan’s three most capable assistants. Ah Mu’s temperament matched his name: he seldom spoke and wore the same wooden expression all day. Judging by looks alone, Ah Mu seemed an easy target. But Xie Han knew that was only surface. When trouble arose, that seemingly slow body became agile as lightning, and his precise marksmanship could blast an enemy’s head apart in an instant.

Xie Han had no idea how Taishan had recruited so many sharpshooters. For someone like Ah Mu, if the opportunity arose, Xie Han would much rather put a sniper rifle in his hands than a pistol or a submachine gun. With Ah Mu’s accuracy, he’d make a formidable sniper, securing a whole kilometer on his own.

Xie Han knew a thing or two about sniper rifles. Over the decades, such long-range weapons had made a quantum leap, especially in the apocalypse. In the modern era, hitting a target in the head from a mile away was the mark of a world-class sniper. But in these end times, advances in sniping meant even an average shooter could hit a target from a mile and a half away—let alone a top-tier sniper. Within two miles, it was a death zone.

Xie Han’s gaze did nothing to change Ah Mu’s expression. He merely smiled faintly and replied, “Captain, it’d be a lie to say I’m not afraid. But that fear vanished three and a half years ago, the first time I shot a zombie. For three years since, except for days inside the base, I’ve been killing zombies nonstop. To me, they’re just moving targets. I stopped being afraid a long time ago.”

“A true man...” Ah Mu’s composure earned Xie Han’s admiration. He couldn’t imagine what kind of brutal experience one had to endure to acquire such calm. Perhaps that was the greatest gift the apocalypse bestowed upon its survivors.

Perhaps Ah Mu’s demeanor influenced the other nine as well. They all faced the situation quietly, only gripping their submachine guns more tightly. Xie Han said, “Excellent. Worthy men of Taishan, worthy to be my brothers.” He drew a deep breath and declared with pride, “What are zombies? We’ll carve our own bloody path. Humanity’s future belongs in our hands. I believe the zombie rampage is only temporary.”

With Xie Han’s bold words, the atmosphere in the minibus lightened; it grew lively. Xu Qiang even used the smart system to play some upbeat music, humming along to the strong rhythm as he sped the minibus forward, racing down the ring road.

Perhaps because no one had traveled this ring road before, there weren’t many zombies wandering about—just a few scattered here and there. Still, the roar of the minibus engine quickly attracted those lurking at the roadside. One by one, they crossed the greenbelt, climbed over the barriers, and shambled toward the minibus. But at a steady eighty kilometers per hour, the zombies barely made it over the median before being left far behind, never posing any real threat.

After about five or six smooth kilometers, Xu Qiang grew excited. “Captain, you were right—barely any zombies out here.” They’d already left the plaza area, and even the zombies along the road were thinning out. Still, after his initial excitement, Xu Qiang grew vigilant, keeping his eyes fixed ahead.

Xie Han had long since memorized the map of Wangtian City and didn’t need Zhou Ruomeng to call it up. He pointed at a massive overpass ahead and said, “Take the second interchange and then turn right.”

The minibus passed under the overpass and entered an eight-lane avenue flanked by residential buildings. Countless trees were planted between the buildings, lending a peaceful air in the early morning. But beneath that tranquility lurked deadly danger. Occasionally, zombies wandered out from the trees. The vast city seemed to be in hibernation—soundless, eerily still.

The minibus rolled alone down the avenue, where abandoned vehicles were strewn everywhere. Perhaps the virus had struck too suddenly, resulting in pile-up after pile-up. Sometimes, corpses hung like dried meat in the wrecks. In Xie Han’s eyes, those who died in the crashes were the lucky ones—at least they didn’t rise again as zombies, cursed with no rest even in death.

After several minutes on the eight-lane road, the minibus finally slowed. The abandoned vehicles were growing more numerous, and with no other survivors having passed this way, the road was tough going.

With the minibus slowing, zombies wandering the roadside finally had their chance and surged toward the vehicle.

“On alert!” Ah Mu didn’t need Xie Han’s command; he rose from his seat and shouted. He thrust his rotary submachine gun out the window, bracing it on a titanium steel bar. The other nine were just as quick; nine submachine guns appeared at the windows, aimed at the approaching horde.

The submachine guns weren’t much louder than the minibus’s engine. Facing the onrushing zombies, Xie Han didn’t stop Ah Mu and his team. When the zombies closed to within thirty meters, ten submachine guns opened fire at once. Ten tongues of flame swept over the zombies.

With minimal recoil, these weapons in Ah Mu’s hands were as lethal as machine guns. In a barrage, two or three bullets were enough to blow out a zombie’s brain. After suppressing the first wave, the team switched to single shots; nearly every burst of flame from a muzzle sent a zombie down, skull shattered on the road.

Against ordinary, unevolved zombies, if their numbers didn’t present a threat, then it was slaughter, pure and simple. This wave wasn’t large, and Xu Qiang kept the minibus moving, so after just a few exchanges, more than a hundred zombies lay dead twenty meters behind.

Xie Han was surprised; the power of ten submachine guns rivaled that of ten machine guns, a testament to the team’s marksmanship.

After passing that stretch, the minibus picked up speed, the zombie threat dissolved. Ah Mu and his team sat back down, swapped out magazines, and their calm faces revealed nothing of the carnage—over a hundred zombies killed in just over a minute.

A few minutes later, as the minibus continued along the avenue, Xie Han recalled the map’s markings and quickly found the right spot. Here, the buildings were sparse; occasionally, a rusted-out truck could still be seen at the roadside. After three and a half years of wind and rain, the windows were shattered, the bodies covered in rust—chances of them starting were slim to none. Some trucks had even been pushed over by zombies. Xie Han couldn’t imagine how they’d toppled something weighing over ten tons.

As the number of abandoned trucks increased, Xie Han spotted four huge numbers hanging from a billboard in the distance: Yong’an Freight Yard.