Chapter 218: I Don

No wonder some people turn into zombies incredibly fast—within minutes of being bitten—while others hold out for two or three hours; it turns out the split speed of zombie robots varies so widely.

Zhang Su nodded thoughtfully, then suddenly remembered something and asked: "Dr. Fu, you just mentioned activation—what counts as an activated zombie robot? Are there unactivated ones?"

"There are!" Fu Wei replied: "All of us—you, me, him—currently harbor unactivated zombie robots inside our bodies."

"What triggers activation? Death?"

Zhang Su felt no surprise; from prior observations, he had already confirmed this.

"Exactly—death! To answer your other question: the only way to obtain an activated zombie robot is through a living zombie!"

Fu Wei emphasized: "The teeth and nails of living zombies act like specialized activation devices, while their flesh and blood contain vast quantities of disabled zombie robots—think of them as dead batteries, incapable of infection."

No wonder contact with zombie blood doesn't cause infection—it's all because of this…

Duan Wu suddenly understood; he had never been certain whether zombie blood was infectious.

Zhang Su compared Fu Wei's findings with his own past experiences and confirmed they matched; he then asked: "Dr. Fu, is it possible to be bitten by a zombie and not turn?"

Fu Wei lowered his eyes in thought, then said: "Theoretically, yes—but in practice, I've never encountered such a case. The human immune system struggles to eliminate zombie robots, yet it has never won…"

"Are we humans really that weak?" Duan Wu shrugged with a strange expression.

"There's not enough time!" Fu Wei shook his head. "The human immune system activates far too slowly compared to the replication speed of zombie robots. But I believe humans can evolve resistance to them—assuming we can survive long enough…"

Hominins appeared nearly two million years ago. In that time, they overcame countless bacteria, pathogens, and viruses, even teetered on extinction—but always rose from the flames reborn.

"Sigh…" Zhang Su let out a long breath; the more he learned, the more hopeless he felt.

After a moment of silence, he said: "Dr. Fu, you've studied so much—let me ask the most critical question: is there any way to reverse it?"

"No."

Fu Wei answered with cold, decisive clarity, then added:

"At least within my understanding, there is no reversal—because zombies and humans, at the genetic level, no longer belong to the same species. You can think of them as ugly humanoid machines. That means, the moment a human is controlled, they are utterly dead! It's a cruel truth—reversal would be resurrection. Unless figures from religion or myth descend… I don't believe in gods!"

"You haven't told Liao Youzhi this, have you?" Duan Wu asked.

"No—he couldn't accept this reality."

Fu Wei shook his head helplessly.

"Dr. Fu, about two months ago, there was heavy rain. I saw zombies drawing energy from it—afterward, a large number grew stronger: faster, stronger, more sensitive. Yesterday, light snow fell, and today, when we went out to scavenge, we found zombies had grown stronger again. Do you have any research data on this?"

All previous questions were conclusions—ones that, even if known, couldn't be changed. But this question Zhang Su now asked concerned the present, the future.

Fu Wei frowned, recalling: "I've noticed this phenomenon too. As you said, zombies are indeed growing stronger—but due to limited samples and testing conditions, I haven't gathered detailed data."

"This…" Duan Wu grimaced. "So they're really robots that can upgrade bit by bit."

"Exactly. View zombies as robots, and everything becomes clear: rain and snow are like upgrade codes injected into them. After the upgrade program runs, they grow stronger—doesn't that make sense now?"

Fu Wei allowed himself a rare smile—he felt the conversation had finally found resonance.

Zhang Su gave a bitter shake of his head: "It's easy to understand—but right now, I need a way to resist this. If zombies keep growing stronger, we'll become increasingly vulnerable!"

I don't advocate violence, but unfortunately, the only way to end this disaster is to kill every single zombie—and after humans die, they must be cremated or have their brains destroyed before burial.

Fu Wei helplessly spread his hands; human technology seemed pitifully inadequate here.

The three sat in silence for a long time, the only sound the slurping of drinking water—the atmosphere was stark and hollow.

"Dr. Fu," Zhang Su spoke again: "You've encountered countless zombies. Do you have any plausible theories on why this disaster erupted?"

Fu Wei looked puzzled. "Based on the information I've compiled, the disaster erupted at seven a. . our local time—nearly simultaneously across the globe. This couldn't have been caused by human technology. Not with the level of civilization we have today."

Though he gave no direct answer, the implication was clear: the culprit behind this disaster was not human.

"Not our generation—then maybe the previous one's tech? Or the next? No, the next hasn't arrived yet. Earth? Alien? That's it. Hah! My life's been worth it—I get to fight against the tech of another civilization. Isn't that awesome? Hey, Brother Zhang, isn't that awesome?"

Duan Wu, surprisingly optimistic, suddenly felt immense fortune after hearing Fu Wei's words—he was still alive, after all.

"Yeah, it's damn impressive—but we still have to survive!" Zhang Su turned to Fu Wei: "Dr. Fu, forgive me for saying this, but your findings are just explanations of the current situation. The actual theories that could help us fight zombies seem scarce?"

Fu Wei flashed a brilliant smile, then reached behind his wheelchair, took down a backpack, and pulled out a vacuum-sealed plastic bag, placing it on the table.

"Theories support research. This is the research result!"

Zhang Su picked up the plastic bag and examined it: inside were four gray substances, the size of jujubes, their surfaces smooth—but with his sharp vision, he could see intricate micro-patterns, giving them a sci-fi feel.

"What is this…?"

Zhang Su set the bag down, completely baffled.

"The zombie's thalamus."

Fu Wei picked up the bag with visible delight, his eyes glowing with rare passion.

"What?"

"Thalamus?"

Zhang Su and Duan Wu both froze. They'd heard the word before—knew it was an organ inside the head—but weren't sure if it belonged to the cerebrum or cerebellum; it was too obscure.

"The human brain, structurally, is divided into the cerebrum, diencephalon, and cerebellum. The thalamus is a vital component of the diencephalon!"

Fu Wei gently shook the plastic bag.

"So… uh, this diencephalon—no, the thalamus—what does it do?" Zhang Su asked curiously, taking the bag back from Fu Wei and studying it closely, trying to uncover its secret.

"I haven't told anyone about this discovery. Or rather, I hadn't had time to report my experimental results to Liao Youzhi before the zombie outbreak occurred—and thank heaven I didn't tell him."

As he spoke, Fu Wei patted himself, then awkwardly smiled: "Mr. Zhang, you took my dagger. Could you lend me one?"

"Dagger?" Zhang Su didn't know what he intended, but still drew his short dagger from his belt and handed it over.

"Thank you."

Taking the dagger, Fu Wei rolled up his sleeve and, under Zhang Su and Duan Wu's shocked stares, slashed his own arm in one swift motion—the sharp blade opening a two-inch gash, blood gushing out immediately.

"Hey!" Duan Wu jumped back: "What the hell are you doing…?"

"Don't rush!" Fu Wei remained calm, as if the blood flowing from his arm wasn't his own.

He set down the dagger, reached into his bag, and pulled out a metal box the size of a deck of cards. Opening it, he took out half a gray, unremarkable object, shoved it into his mouth, and bit down.

Zhang Su's face and lips twitched involuntarily—he saw clearly: Fu Wei had just eaten a zombie's thalamus!

"Soon! Watch…"

Fu Wei swallowed about a quarter of the thalamus, placed the rest back in the box, then showed his wound to the two.

Time passed slowly. Zhang Su silently timed it. After roughly thirty seconds, the bleeding stopped. Then, the flesh around the wound began regenerating—buds sprouted rapidly, the wound closing at a visible pace.

The entire process took less than two minutes. The seven- to eight-centimeter wound was fully healed, leaving only a raised scar!

Some settings may be inconsistent—please forgive any contradictions…

(End of Chapter)