A few figures entered from the supermarket entrance, bathed in sunlight: five men, each armed with different implements—a cleaver, a kitchen knife, a wrench, a mop, and the like.
The imposing man leading them was muscular, covered in stubble, with a fierce glint in his eyes that suggested immediate trouble. He gripped an exceptionally broad, heavy blade, dotted with flecks of dried, dark blood.
“Boss, we’re in luck! Some monster must have wiped out all the zombies in this supermarket, haha…” said the man holding the wrench, dressed in mechanic’s overalls, his eyes burning like those of a hungry wolf.
“Wait!” The sturdy leader frowned, scanning the surroundings. “All the zombies here have knife wounds. Maybe some powerhouse took them out.”
“How is that possible!”
“Boss, you’re overthinking it.”
“Is there really someone that strong? We’re talking about hundreds of zombies! Unless Ultraman showed up.”
“Maybe some monster’s claws were just too sharp.”
The other four shook their heads, absolutely refusing to believe that such a powerful person existed.
The stout leader pondered for a moment, then decided he was indeed reading too much into it. If someone that powerful truly existed, he probably couldn’t be called human anymore; he’d be a god!
He commanded, “Hurry up and haul the food back to the hideout, in case that monster returns.”
“Got it!”
The other four nodded in agreement and proceeded down the right aisle into the supermarket. Three men began loading supplies, while the stout leader and one other man guarded the entrance, watching for any activity to prevent any monsters from rushing in.
“Huh?” As the three entered the store, they were immediately struck by the sight of the completely emptied shelves, causing them to exchange startled glances, recognizing the shared bewilderment in each other’s eyes. Finally, one of them mustered the courage, “Let’s go take a look inside.”
He stepped in first and instantly spotted several figures inside. At first glance, he mistook them for zombies and nearly jumped, but focusing his vision, he realized they were humans and let out a massive sigh of relief. He turned back to his two companions, “There are people inside. Let’s go check it out.”
The other two looked slightly surprised, nodded, and the trio walked in together.
Inside the supermarket, they saw six figures. One man was leaning against a wall, dozing off. Another, an exceptionally beautiful girl, was squatting near a zombie, holding a small knife. The remaining four men stood by the goods, watching them with puzzled expressions.
“Just ordinary people,” the man with the wrench murmured, relieved.
“What should we do?”
“Should we call the Captain?”
“It’s such a minor issue, no need to bother the Captain. Just tell them to leave. These few people have incredible luck, getting here even before us.”
“Right!” The man with the wrench stepped forward, facing Bai Long and the others, and said coldly, “This area is occupied by us. Pack up your things and get out immediately!”
Bai Long looked at him strangely and replied, “We got here first. You’re the ones who should be leaving.”
The man with the wrench glanced at him and sneered, “Stop wasting time. If you don’t want to die, scram!”
“Oh,” Bai Long pondered, as if savoring the meaning of the word. After a long pause, he raised his head. A handsome smile graced his clean-cut features as he slowly walked toward the three men. His fire axe suddenly swung out, fast as lightning, shearing directly into the shoulder of one of the youths, the immense force cleanly severing the joint.
“Aaaah!!” A scream like a butchered pig echoed through the supermarket.
The other two men only saw a blinding flash of steel before their companion’s arm was ripped away, leaving them staring at Bai Long in wide-eyed horror.
“I forgot to tell you guys…”
Bai Long smiled pleasantly, “I don’t much care for people telling me to ‘scram.’”
That sunny, handsome smile appeared far more terrifying to the three men than the grin of a demon. They shuddered, their limbs going cold, an icy dread crawling up their spines, sweat pouring down.
“What’s going on?” At this moment, the stout leader and the other man from outside rushed in. They took in the sight of Bai Long’s group and the severed limb on the floor, showing shock, before their expressions slowly darkened, turning frigid. “Why did you hurt someone?”
Bai Long shrugged. “Because I felt like it. Because I was happy to.”
After more than a month of hunting zombies, he had long grown accustomed to the gore. He even occasionally helped Ye Zhu dissecting the undead, making him completely habituated to human organs. As a result, he hadn't noticed the sheer accumulation of killing intent building within him, sometimes prompting an uncontrollable urge to murder.
On the battlefield, soldiers are most susceptible to post-traumatic stress, which inflicts negative effects on their spirit and psyche, often leading to pessimism, disappointment, and hostility toward their surroundings. Living in the apocalypse for so long, constantly watching cannibalistic zombies, and killing dozens daily who look nearly identical to oneself—this kind of psychological strain is immense, slowly eroding a person’s core and leading to an irritable temperament.
This condition would later be termed: Post-Killing Syndrome!
Ye Chen, who had been sleeping with his eyes closed, slowly opened them. He glanced at Bai Long, frowned slightly, and a thoughtful flicker crossed his eyes.
Hearing Bai Long’s reply, the stout leader’s face turned grim. “Since you want to die, I’ll grant your wish!” He took a step forward, bringing his great blade down in a chopping motion that seemed capable of splitting mountains, his momentum ferocious.
Splat!
A flash of axe light, and a head flew into the air. The stout leader’s body collapsed instantly, blood spraying from his neck to drench the four men nearby, who were paralyzed with terror.
In terms of sheer physical ability…
Bai Long possessed the strength of five men, and the speed of his attack was utterly beyond the stout leader’s capabilities.
“Are you going to leave on your own, or do I have to make you?” Bai Long asked, a few flecks of bright red blood adorning his smiling face.
The four men felt an icy chill run through them and immediately turned tail, sprinting out of the supermarket.
“Problem solved,” Bai Long said with a relaxed smile, turning back to Zhuge Fan. “Start packing things up.”
Yue Heng and Mo Feng didn’t seem surprised by the display and continued their work packing.
Zhuge Fan, clearly shaken by Bai Long’s previous actions, regarded him with persistent apprehension.
As dusk approached, the group loaded up the consumable snacks from the supermarket—a total of over a dozen crates. Although the supermarket was huge, only the first floor held food; the second floor had clothing, and the third was dedicated to entertainment.
These dozen crates of food were divided among the four men of Bai Long’s group. Bai Long, having the best physique, took six crates, while the frail Zhuge Fan only managed two small boxes.
Ye Chen and Ye Zhu, traveling light, led the way out of the supermarket. They stepped out as the setting sun cast long shadows behind them, painting the sky in shades of crimson and gold.
Zhuge Fan stared at the hundreds of dead zombie bodies outside and was greatly astonished, his curiosity about Ye Chen’s group deepening. After walking a short distance, the group entered a deserted street. The high-rise buildings flanking them showed no sign of life; their windows gaped like the eye sockets of demons, looking down upon them.
Zhuge Fan shrank back, moving toward the center of the group, and nervously asked Bai Long, “There won’t be too many zombies here, right?”
Bai Long laughed, “Don’t worry, even if there are zombies, it’s fine.”
Just as he spoke, a third-floor window in a nearby building suddenly shattered, and a man plummeted out, hitting the ground with a sickening thud and dying instantly. Immediately after, several more figures poured out of the same broken window, crashing down onto the pavement. In moments, they scrambled back up and began tearing into the corpse of the man who had just fallen.
This horrifying scene startled Bai Long and the others. Zhuge Fan’s face turned ashen, nearly gagging.
“Roar!”
At that moment, those few zombies also noticed Ye Chen’s group and charged forward excitedly. Their roars alerted the zombies hidden throughout the street. Undead spilled out from every building—some rushing from ground level, others leaping directly from upper-story windows, smashing into pulp upon impact.
“Holy crap! There really are zombies!” Bai Long exclaimed, utterly dumbfounded.
Ye Chen looked at the nearly two hundred zombies charging toward them and shouted, “Follow me!” He moved in an instant, charging toward the nearest building and taking a defensive position at the entrance. He glanced at Mo Feng, who was holding an exquisitely crafted handgun, preparing to fire at the approaching horde.
Ye Chen said gravely, “Don’t use guns!”
Mo Feng paused, looked at him, then nodded and tucked the weapon away.
If used skillfully, the power of a handgun was enough to kill a monster with the strength of forty men. Using such a high-lethality weapon on zombies seemed like overkill.
Ye Chen gripped his axe with both hands, his gaze sharp and cold, as he watched the zombies rush closer. His muscles coiled, veins bulging on his arms like terrifying earthworms.
“Cyclone Dragon Slash!”
Whoosh!
A gale erupted. The axe moved with the grace of a butterfly’s descent, tracing a strange circular arc that protected his entire perimeter. Any zombie that approached the boundary of his encirclement was instantly slain.
Inside that circle was his world, a space no unwanted presence was allowed to enter.
...
Updates have been slow these past few days. Starting today, I’ll be more diligent, aiming to post earlier in the future. The first update should be around 7 AM, and the second before 10 AM...