Chapter 18: Life-or-Death Speed |
Can an ordinary person break through the sea of zombies in front of him?
There aren’t a thousand, but there must be eight hundred at least!
He’d already sparred a little with them; these zombies were vicious, not the slow, dopey kind from movies.
They were unnaturally agile, their movement not much worse than living humans.
They did not fear pain, they feared nothing in death, and they still had sight and hearing.
Wu Zhong swallowed, gripped his gun, checked the magazine—only fifteen rounds left...
What good is that!
Not to mention his lousy marksmanship, even if he hit one per shot, that’s at most fifteen zombies.
He pulled out his combat knife and swung it twice, thinking inwardly, “I have to rely on this thing to slash through a thousand crazed zombies trying to kill me?”
With Gizzard around, these zombies would be no real threat and would be able to protect him.
But who could have guessed Gu Yue would catch up and use the disaster artifact to trade one-for-one with Gizzard.
Now, everything rested on him alone.
“What to do? What should I do?”
Wu Zhong paced the observation room, trying to think of a plan.
There were no useful tools here; after thinking it through, the only option was to “make Gu Yue help.”
Right now, the man-and-ghost pair were at the main door wrestling over the Gordian tangle.
Gu Yue’s surrounding air had condensed; zombies gave way. He periodically unleashed green blade qi that ripped through the undead like a meat grinder.
That alone was a massive killing weapon.
“If I toss the tangle to the other side, he’ll cut through the horde to get it.”
“I can follow behind him then, right?”
Wu Zhong muttered. It was risky but feasible—the energy Gu Yue released did massive damage to the zombies.
“First clear the zombies at the door.”
He pulled a grenade, flipped the safety, and shoved it through the door crack.
Then he hurried to a corner of the observation room, lay down on the floor, and covered his ears.
Boom! The explosion sounded.
Wu Zhong stood bewildered, thinking the blast was weak.
Then his mouth twitched into a laugh: “Heh... heh heh ha? Hahaha? Hahahahaha!”
He laughed—wildly, rebelliously, a manic laugh!
Yet his eyes were vacant and confused.
“Huh? Hahaha, why am I laughing?”
“Oh ho ho ho... I can’t hold it! I really can’t hold it!”
Wu Zhong doubled over laughing, tears streaming—he just wanted to laugh and couldn’t stop.
It was agony; it felt unbearable.
But he laughed anyway, trying every way to stop himself and failing, as if his nerves had been crossed.
He laughed until he cried, laughed until he could hardly breathe!
“Ugh heh heh, I can’t breathe... oh ho ho ho... cough cough... oh ho ho ho...”
He was reaching a breakdown, clutching the wall, laughing until his belly hurt.
And worse—outside, the zombies were laughing too!
A line of dead heads made strange noises: “Gak gak gak...”
“Ke ke ke!”
The zombies thrown over by the grenade hadn’t died; the grenade’s power was low, like a concussion blast.
But the forced-laughter effect was far more terrifying than the concussion.
Even the zombies could not avoid it!
A throng of undead jammed outside the door, their heads stuck in the crack, cackling at anyone inside—what a chilling scene.
Wu Zhong laughed until he nearly vomited, tears streaming like a waterfall.
This is it, it’s over!
Despair flooded him: “How could this... this grenade is a disaster artifact too?”
“Damn it, it looked like a normal grenade.”
“Are you kidding me? Who carries something like this as a weapon?”
He cursed in his head, never imagining Gu Yue’s grenade would be such a cursed thing!
No wonder earlier Gu Yue had faked a throw and didn’t really toss it—its radius was huge, and in that cramped terrain while fighting a ghost, using that grenade could have affected oneself.
“It’s over... I’m contaminated... forced laughing? I’ll laugh until I die... trapped in endless laughter, tormented?”
He thought of Ever-Thirst Plum and the unsolvable tangle. He knew how terrifying those things were, and the more he knew, the more terrified he became.
Eternal, unsolvable, hopeless absolute traits.
Now he’d contracted one, forced to laugh himself to death!
“No... no... I’m infected, so should I kill myself?”
Wu Zhong felt suffocated and began spiraling. He laughed with tears, convulsed and coughing, yet couldn’t stop.
Trembling, he picked up his gun and aimed at himself... if he was going to be forced to laugh to death, he’d rather make it quick.
Like those forever-thirsty souls, many chose suicide in the end.
“Hahaha... hahaha! I brought this on myself; one shot should be easy...”
He considered shooting himself, but his finger froze on the trigger.
He wasn’t resigned; he couldn’t bear it.
If he died, his grandfather on the hospital bed would be left with no one to remember him.
Suddenly his head cleared like it had exploded.
“I can’t die... I can’t die... living is everything.”
Wu Zhong forced calm. He’d been through life and death before; after yesterday’s escape from death, he valued life even more.
“This effect might not be unsolvable.”
“Unit 985 uses these as weapons. Gu Yue had four—there has to be a countermeasure! They must have a way to break it! Maybe the antidote is on him.”
“That’s right, it has to be.”
He calmed down, laughed aloud, and stood up. After a moment of thought, a spark of insight hit.
He opened another grenade.
This time he tossed it at his feet: Bang!
The grenade’s power indeed was weak—just a jolt—and then the laughing stopped.
“Okay? I’m okay!”
“Really... if I detonate it again it will be gone?”
Wu Zhong panted, touching his mouth, then broke into wild joy.
“As I thought, this grenade is an area-effect influence that easily harms its user.”
“If Unit 985 equips these, they must carry the antidote too.”
“Gu Yue only had a gun, a knife, and four grenades—nothing else... I’ll try it.”
“Heck, I’ve been blasted once and infected—another hit won’t matter. I didn’t expect it to work.”
He licked his lips, surprised he'd cracked the artifact’s weird effect himself.
Explode once to force laughter, explode again to cancel it—trait reversal.
It sounds simple, but the bizarre logic defied reason! It was outright inexplicable.
To conceive this and then have the nerve to act...
Afterwards, Wu Zhong couldn’t believe he’d dared.
Of course, these grenades were military equipment already fitted by Unit 985, not hidden lethal curios like Ever-Thirst Plum or the unsolvable tangle.
But he was a complete civilian with no prior exposure.
The first hit nearly drove him to suicide by panic and agony.
Luckily he overcame fear, calmed, and found the solution.
In the face of death, his mind became startlingly clear—an epiphany.
The feeling was incomparable; he even felt a little pleased with himself...
Bang bang bang bang!
After a short rest, Wu Zhong raised his gun, aimed through the door crack at each zombie head, and blew them away one by one!
After clearing the doorway, he hefted his knife and charged out.
Zombies roared at him; he lowed and cut a merciless slash that split a skull, spraying gore.
The knife was light, sharp, and made of a unique material.
It was the best blade he’d ever handled—cleaving a skull was as simple as slicing watermelon!
“Nice knife, really a nice knife!”
Wu Zhong gripped it with both hands and cut with calm brutality. Thanks to the keen edge, he kicked and slashed, slaughtering over a dozen zombies!
Still, his arms began to burn.
No matter how sharp, he had to exert full force with every swing, and concentration was absolute.
This wasn’t like the “nuclear-powered protagonist” in the games he’d played—real physical exertion drained him.
“Hiss!”
“Ohohoho!”
More zombie packs stampeded like bloodhounds following a scent, lunging at Wu Zhong.
They were fast, running as if fully grown humans sprinting—an overwhelming, terrifying onslaught!
Wu Zhong glanced back at the already-torn gate, knowing there was no turning back, and forced himself to run forward.
In his head he thought about the past three years of working himself to madness.
What had been most torturous? For him, it was the job—the petty tasks, crushing pressure; he felt he was dying from work.
No sleep, waking up with his head buzzing.
Those days were unbearable; remembering them now filled him with resentment.
Splat!
He charged past Ghost and Gu Yue, snatched the tangle, and hurled it with all his might to the other side.
Slash slash!
Gizzard’s ghostly claws struck, carving a deep, bloody wound across Wu Zhong’s arm; he screamed in pain.
“You damn ghost...!”
He’d been cautious enough, but a man-and-ghost team violently handling the tangle meant his fingering the prize at the wrong instant still cut him.
His whole right arm couldn’t be lifted—agonizing pain!
Strangely, Gu Yue’s effect was different: the green blade qi that lingered over him caused no harm but instead staunched and healed the wound.
“This edge cuts so well, Gu Yue bro!” Wu Zhong said in surprise.
Gu Yue’s green energy harmed ghosts and zombies but healed living flesh.
That gave Wu Zhong more confidence.
Once the tangle was tossed away, Ghost soared over the horde and flew ahead.
Gu Yue dashed on the ground, carving a bloody path.
Wu Zhong, knife in hand, trailed behind playfully, only needing to deal with a few big and small zombies.
But the good times didn’t last!
Gu Yue ran too fast—maybe nearly seven seconds per hundred meters?
His figure was like flying; even at full sprint Wu Zhong couldn’t keep up.
The formation stretched, and the zombies around him grew thicker and more crowded.
“Damn!”
Wu Zhong wished for two more legs, eyes bloodshot—this was life-or-death speed.
These zombies’ mobility was no different from living humans!
Once they crowded in numbers, even with Gu Yue creating a path, their ferocious charge still snagged at him!
“Ugh! What the—”
He was caught off guard; blood spurted down his back as a zombie clawed a fresh wound.
His face drained white: I was scratched by a zombie, I was scratched by a zombie, I was scratched by a zombie...
“No! I’m not infected with corpse toxin, am I?”
Wu Zhong broke into a cold sweat, spinning his knife and forcing his way out of the mob, still not daring to stop.
Because the dense horde behind him pressed on relentlessly!
Gu Yue and Ghost stopped to keep fighting over the tangle; Wu Zhong couldn’t afford that and sprinted alone to the entrance of a food duct and dove in.
Thud thud thud!
He crawled through the duct at top speed; his hands and knees scraped raw, but he didn’t slow—zombies were still crawling after him!
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Gak gak gak...
“There’s no way forward!”
Not far ahead, the lateral passage ended. He looked up and saw an upper route.
The duct’s inner wall was smooth and tapered upward; he tried to climb but couldn’t find any footholds and slid back down.
“Shit!”
Wu Zhong realized the duct wasn’t designed for people to climb—its taper and smoothness prevented zombies from climbing up. Infinite Summer had planned for Ghost to lift him up in this stretch.
The original plan was for Ghost Gizzard to snatch him and fly him up!
“What now? What do I do?”
Wu Zhong pressed his back to the wall and looked back at the swarming zombies filling the duct—there was no return!
His arm hurt; even after a moment’s healing it throbbed.
His sword arm felt heavy; he could barely swing.
Bang bang bang!
His brain raced as he crouched and opened fire.
In such tight quarters, every shot could blow a head.
The zombies were crawling forward, their heads aimed at him and stacked; all he could see were heads and arms.
Yet because the duct was so cramped, even if he killed a zombie, the ones behind shoved the corpses forward.
The gap between him and the undead shrank.
At this rate, he would be squeezed entirely inside the duct, surrounded by zombies...
Unable to move, climbed all over by the undead, chewed to death—no chance of survival.
“What to do? What to do?”
He watched the undead push like a wall of meat, inching closer, the space tightening.
Death was counting down and there was no one to rely on.
For now, only himself—what could he do? He could weld doors.
“Door... door... right, is there a door here?”
“There should be a gate in the duct, right?”
He looked left and right—none! No door at all!
“Ahhh, how is there not even a door!”
Clang clang clang!
He panted, sweating, and wildly hacked and stabbed at the duct wall with his knife.
Surprisingly, the blade was so sharp it dug into the steel pipe.
He dug in harder and suddenly the tip went through.
“Huh?”
The hardness and edge quality was incredible—a treasure blade.
Wu Zhong’s eyes flashed. With a clear idea, he threw his full force into stabbing and chopping the iron wall.
He moved fast, life-or-death speed, the duct ringing with metal. Zombies gurgled and surged forward like a meat wall.
“Faster! Faster!”
His muscles burned and his wounds bled, but he couldn’t stop—he forced himself to work even faster.
The blade was hard and sharp, boring into steel like cutting meat. Before long he’d made a C-shaped gap.
He pried hard; the torn iron bent and he levered up an irregular circular sheet.
The duct was ripped open, but beyond it was a concrete wall—the passage had been encased in reinforced concrete.
“Hold! Hold it!”
Wu Zhong knew he couldn’t get out; he slammed his shoulder against the iron sheet and pushed with everything.
“Huff huff huff... creak creak!”
Zombies had come through; a dozen arms grabbed at him, a few mouths biting his shoulders and limbs.
“Aahhh!” Wu Zhong screamed, gritting his teeth.
He steeled himself, bearing the bites and tugs, and kept pushing the iron plate.
The plate was thick, the duct interior, but with all his strength he bent it like sheet metal, holding it across the passage.
It didn’t completely block the opening, only about seventy to eighty percent—but enough. The gap was too small for a zombie to crawl through; they could only reach hands in to grab.
Wu Zhong drew his gun and shot zombie heads that were biting him.
Then he staggered back, bloodied, and leaned against the duct wall, looking at the countless zombies stopped just two meters away by the small bent iron plate.
He had pulled a piece of iron out of the duct and bent it into a fence-like barrier.
It instantly became an immovable obstacle that halted the tide.
Through the edge gaps, countless hands and feet poked and were trampled.
The cramped, dim space reeked of an unbearable stench.
Wu Zhong curled up in the corner; his muscles relaxed and he moaned from pain.
Yet he laughed.
“Heh heh heh heh...”
His brain was so intensely high on adrenaline—the urge to survive had become addictive.