Chapter 296: Three Non-Killings

"Brother Good Man, hehe, I… I'm badly hurt, pretty serious, don't know if I can be saved, but right now I just want a drink of water. Got any?"

Pan Guoliang, already familiar as if they'd known each other for years, reached out his hand toward Zhang Su, who stood by the hatch, asking for water, his face still wearing that optimistic smile.

Zhang Su waved to the people around him and said, "Bring me a bottle of water."

"Catch it, Brother Su."

Wu Lue quickly pulled a thermos from his pack and tossed it over.

Zhang Su caught the thermos, crouched down, and dropped it precisely beside Pan Guoliang.

"Ah, water's good, but if I could get some liquor, that'd be even better!"

Muttering to himself, Pan Guoliang struggled to twist open the thermos and gulped down several mouthfuls.

Seizing the opportunity, Zhang Su took in Pan Guoliang's condition: his side had a large tear in the clothing—likely where he'd been cut open—but the full extent of the wound wouldn't be clear until he removed his clothes.

Zhang Su waited until the man finished drinking, then said, "Xin Qi told me squads one and two were combat elites. So, elite comrade, you must be the tank gunner?"

Pan Guoliang fumbled weakly in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette pack; when he opened it, only a lighter remained…

"Heh, I always said this protection racket wouldn't last—they wouldn't listen! But now it's too late to talk about it. Even if three more squads were in the barracks, the end result would be the same: death."

"Do you know where Ma Juguang and Yao Xiaobin are?"

The Type 99 tank operated with a three-man crew: the commander handled overall command and communication, assisted the gunner with target observation and machine gun operation; the gunner aimed and fired the cannon and machine gun, and also had the critical duty of loading shells; the driver, as the name implies, operated the tank.

"Gunner? Pfft—I'm a deserter! Damn it, those crazy bastards' freakish monsters went wild. I was fighting zombies up front, and next thing I know, a piece of corrugated steel flew at me like a throwing knife. Lucky I dodged—it would've sliced me clean in half. I barely made it into the tank alive, barely saved half my damn life!"

"I figure I'm done for, Brother Good Man. Give me a cigarette. Consider it my farewell."

Pan Guoliang smiled carefree. At this point, nothing weighed on him. He looked up and said, "I didn't decide to collect protection fees—it's not my fault. The guilty are clear. Brother Good Man, you've got to find Ma Juguang and Yao Xiaobin. We've got no grudge against each other. Just send me off. Even as a ghost, I'll protect you. How's that?"

Zhang Su felt a grudging respect for Pan Guoliang's optimistic attitude.

Pan Guoliang strained to shift his body and said, "Since you made it here, you must've wiped out Old Sun's, Old Hou's, and Shark-Arm Liu's squads, right?"

Zhang Su shrugged, finding the whole thing oddly theatrical.

As he spoke, Pan Guoliang chuckled bitterly.

"Ha, you don't even know who I am, and you're already asking me for water and cigarettes, chatting like this?"

Pan Guoliang asked without any emotional fluctuation—food collection wasn't their elite squad's job, so he felt no personal stake.

Zhang Su had only ever heard "even as a ghost, I won't let you go," but never "as a ghost, I'll protect you." The others nearby quietly chuckled.

"Cough… cough…" Pan Guoliang coughed weakly, leaning against the cold control panel, smiling: "Xin Qi said you're a good man, so I call you Brother Good Man. As for your real identity… to a dying man, who you are doesn't matter. I've got no family left—no lost brother from childhood, ha."

"Ha, so Brother Good Man's here for revenge?"

"Shark-Arm Liu…" Zhang Su knew he meant Liu Lei, squad six's commander—apt nickname, since the man looked exactly like a shark-arm. He nodded. "Correct."

"We did consider it, but before we could act, you got surrounded by the horde."

"I came from Tianma Isle—that place your Qinglong Army sent three squads to collect food from."

Zhang Su introduced himself.

Pan Guoliang strained to lift his head toward Zhang Su and gave a thumbs-up gesture—meaning, give me one.

Zhang Su frowned, pressing further: these two were the army's commander and deputy commander—they might still be alive.

But Pan Guoliang's answer surprised him.

"Of course I know. If you send me off, I'll find their souls in the underworld and beat them up for you. How's that?"

"Dead? You're sure?"

Zhang Su was stunned. The Qinglong Army's current survivors totaled eight—this man counted as one, leaving seven others. Yet neither the top two leaders were among them.

"What's uncertain? Zero-Zero-Four got loose from the lab, didn't even bother identifying pheromone directions before slicing those two clean through. Their intestines were longer than hand-pulled noodles. Ugh, I'm starving. A hot bowl of hand-pulled noodles would be perfect."

Pan Guoliang's erratic train of thought left Zhang Su speechless.

"Do you know of any other survivors here?" Zhang Su tossed a cigarette into Pan Guoliang's lap.

"Hey, thanks!" Pan Guoliang lit the cigarette, took a drag, and exhaled a thin plume of smoke that drifted through the tank. Then he continued.

"There might still be people in the underground lab beneath headquarters. There's also an underground storage room near the weapons depot. Other than that, check the other tank—that's about it for hiding spots."

Zhang Su turned his head toward headquarters. Beneath the ruined building lay the lab—whether anyone was alive or not, he had to check.

"Hey, elite comrade, what's your condition?"

"If the medical team were still alive, I'd lie there for a month and survive. But now? I'm screwed."

Pan Guoliang, cigarette dangling, slowly lifted his shirt. A three-inch gash lay across his ribs. Emergency bandaging and his awkward posture had prevented heavy bleeding, but expecting natural healing was pure nonsense. The cold weather had saved him—if it were summer, the wound would've already turned gangrenous.

If no one found Pan Guoliang, he'd last at most two more days in the tank—freeze to death, die of thirst, starve, or bleed out. Plenty of ways to go, pick your favorite.

"I can save you—but only if you're worth saving."

Zhang Su glanced at the people from Daqiao Village busy nearby, then crouched down, lit his own cigarette, and spoke slowly.

"Worth it? I've got skills—I'm proficient with every weapon. If I hadn't been too lazy to kiss up to the higher-ups, I wouldn't be stuck as deputy squad leader. Brother Good Man, listen to me: save me, and you'll never regret it!"

Pan Guoliang suddenly saw a glimmer of hope and began boasting. He could face death calmly, but if there was a chance to live, he certainly didn't want to die!

Unfortunately, his earnest performance struck Zhang Su as unconvincing.

"Cough…" Zhang Su had never met a dying man so full of chatter. He tapped the tank's thick steel hull. "Can you operate this?"

"Of course. Everyone in squads one and two trained on it. I've been commander, gunner, and driver."

Pan Guoliang was excited, but restrained himself due to his wound.

"That first shot that went wide that night—was that your doing, half-baked gunner?" Zhang Su asked.

"Huh?" Pan Guoliang blinked, his grimy face furrowing in thought, then shook his head with a strange expression. "I wasn't even on the tank that night, Brother Good Man. To be honest, I missed the only real combat chance we had—damn, what a shame!"

"I'll assume you're competent. But understand this: if I save you, you work for me. Loyalty is the most important thing. If you cause trouble in my camp, I won't give you a chance to regret it."

Zhang Su spoke calmly. The deputy squad leader's abilities were unquestionable—even if not top-tier, he was still useful, provided he remained loyal.

"Brother Good Man, just being alive is enough for me. Where I stay doesn't matter. Who I work for doesn't matter. Like I said before, only a faction within Qinglong Army pushed for protection fees—many of our brothers disagreed, they just didn't bother fighting it. Don't lump us all together as villains. As the old saying goes: don't save someone you doubt; save someone you trust. You decide."

Pan Guoliang sucked the last puff from his cigarette, then crushed the butt out on the control panel, smacking his lips as if this were his final smoke in life.

"Well said: don't save someone you doubt; save someone you trust! I'm Zhang Su. Saving you isn't hard—but once I do, you obey me. No second thoughts. Understood?"

Zhang Su looked down at Pan Guoliang inside the tank, seriously asking.

The sudden gravity made Pan Guoliang realize this question was serious. He dropped his carefree joking tone and nodded. "Brother Zhang, I'll follow you. But I have three rules: I won't kill three kinds of people."

"Oh? Tell me."

Zhang Su watched Pan Guoliang curiously. The man knew killing was unavoidable in the apocalypse. To state his limits before death was admirable.

"One: I won't kill children under three. They have no memories—they can be raised to carry on humanity. Two: I won't kill those who can't move. I'll let them die on their own, but I won't be the one to kill them. Three: I won't kill those who've helped me."

Pan Guoliang counted off each point on his fingers, serious and precise.

Everyone had their principles. Zhang Su thought only the second rule was slightly off—but it didn't matter. If someone couldn't move, whoever killed them made no difference.

Combining it with the third rule, Zhang Su smirked. "So… does that mean I saving you counts as helping you?"

"Of course! You've given me new life—you're like my rebirth parents… cough… cough."

As Pan Guoliang spoke passionately, he burst into violent coughing. After a long while, he caught his breath and lifted his hand from his wound—his palm was soaked in blood.

(End of Chapter)