Chapter 496: You

Pfft…

Chen Hanzhou pulled the mechanical prosthetic from the man's skull, rubbed the spot hit by the bullet—honestly, it still hurt!

"You're one tough bastard, you crazy dog!"

He stared coldly at Lei Zi, a man doomed to die.

The explosion killed many on the spot; some were blown into puzzle pieces, limbs flung dozens of meters away, drenched in blood—but the architect of all this was still barely clinging to life.

"Brother Su always believes in killing without torturing, but you, you insane, stupid dog, you don't even deserve to be called human—too bad so many people are watching…"

The last line, Chen Hanzhou muttered to himself—he knew exactly why he'd come out today; too much cruelty might hurt the boss's recruitment efforts.

But his muttering had been heard. Lei Zi gasped weakly: "Stop pretending, you fucking hypocrites! You're scared of being seen? Call me a dog? You're all fucking phonies!"

Chen Hanzhou didn't care about the insults—he wouldn't waste energy on a dying man. He glanced at the ordinary Tianqi members already tending to themselves, then looked down at Lei Zi: "Speak. How do you want to die? How do you want to end this insane, stupid life of yours? Today you're lucky—I'll give you a quick death."

In Chen Hanzhou's mind, this kind of scum should've been revived with zombie brain matter, then tortured for forty-nine days, rotting slowly in terror and despair!

"Cough… hehehe."

Lei Zi's face was patchy with black, red, and white. He coughed weakly: "How do I want to die? I don't wanna die, you idiot, haha…"

The lunatic, even at death's door, was still delirious. Then he remembered something, his interest flaring: "Hey hey, don't hit my head—turn me into a zombie! Turn me into a zombie, then play with you guys!"

"Madman…"

Chen Hanzhou didn't waste more words. He picked up the pistol he'd taken from the man he'd killed, aimed it at Lei Zi, and pulled the trigger—his eyes calm, locked on the target.

He killed without guilt, unafraid of the dying man's stare—as if to say: remember my face well. Don't piss me off in your next life.

Pop.

A gunshot. A bloodied hole opened in Lei Zi's skull—his insane life ended.

"Let me go! I swear I won't retaliate—I'll make sure all the stolen supplies are returned! I'm telling the truth! Without me, you'll never get them back!"

South of the convoy, Huang Yixiao, cornered by Zhang Su's relentless advance, could only retreat step by step. His companion, who'd been fleeing with him, had died ten seconds ago—his head severed in one swift stroke, still fresh and glistening as it flew through the air.

When he saw this man charge toward the detonator like a legendary hero, he knew instantly: this wasn't ordinary. The scene, once only seen in films, unfolded before his eyes—and it shook him to his core.

He didn't want to die. His pistol was empty, spare magazines lost. He had to think of another way—words were his last weapon, and he had to use them well: "You're quite the character. So much has happened, your people are nearly all dead—how could Ding Wei be so useless? You say you won't retaliate? On what grounds?"

Zhang Su didn't rush to kill Huang Yixiao. If nothing went wrong, he was the last survivor—and Zhang Su had questions.

Hearing he'd been granted a moment to breathe, Huang Yixiao's face lit up with hope: "Don't worry—I've got a plan. Frame the Survivors' Alliance for this. Even if our boss wants revenge, he won't have the strength!"

Absolute Justice had roughly two hundred members, with over sixty combatants—the highest military-to-civilian ratio in Qincheng's survivor camp. Today, nearly thirty were wiped out—crippled beyond repair.

"You mentioned the Survivors' Alliance…"

Zhang Su's expression twisted in disbelief. He stepped forward aggressively.

"Let me tell you—the Survivors' Alliance has already joined Tianma Isle. Liao Youzhi died yesterday. I personally sent him off. He's probably crossed the Naihe Bridge by now. Even the ambitious second-in-command, Gong Chengming, went with him!"

"What…?"

Huang Yixiao froze. This was the most shocking news he'd heard today. Before he could react, the man in front of him—100% lethal—was closing in.

"Don't! Don't move! I warn you—if you push me too far, we all die!"

Huang Yixiao stumbled backward, fumbling into his chest and pulling out a small change purse. He swiftly extracted a pure white wax pill. Against his blood-smeared, soot-blackened face, it looked unnaturally white. He raised it, ready to crush it.

Zhang Su hadn't expected a secret weapon. He halted instantly. Alertness flared—but curiosity burned brighter. He wanted to know what it was.

"You've got more tricks? What's this? Don't tell me it's another bomb!"

Huang Yixiao retreated two more steps, fingers tightly gripping the wax pill: "Only idiots like Lei Zi play with bombs. This is high-tech. Swallow this, and you're all dead."

"You eat it, we die? Oh, I get it—enhancement drug, right?"

Zhang Su guessed instantly. His own camp had people researching similar things.

Huang Yixiao was stunned—he hadn't expected such quick recognition, and yet the man still looked calm. A chill ran through him. He forced a menacing glare: "This isn't some ordinary enhancement drug! Once I swallow it, none of you will be enough to fill my teeth!"

"Still time to walk away. I'll forget what happened before. But once I swallow it, you'll regret it too late!"

"Regret too late?"

Zhang Su sneered. It reminded him of Liao Youzhi's empty boasts—how his zombie bomb could cover all of Qincheng. In reality, it couldn't even cover a single town without wind help.

In this world, no one's word could be trusted—not even when enemies lied.

"If it's so powerful, then swallow it. Let me see how big your teeth really are."

Zhang Su raised his hand, gesturing for him to eat. Today, he refused to believe this nonsense.

Huang Yixiao took a deep breath. His grimy face twitched. His fingers trembled as he held the pill. His words weren't just exaggeration—they hid the truth…

The pill's effects were indeed brutal—but so were the side effects. Worse than the red chili pill. No turning back. Swallow it, and you die—only with enough power left to finish unfinished business before death.

"What? Afraid to swallow? Can't? Won't? Doesn't matter. Since you won't, hand it over!"

Zhang Su moved before his words finished.

He'd originally planned to let him swallow it and observe—but now he regretted it. First, he wasn't arrogant. Even with boosted strength, he didn't think himself invincible. If things spiraled out of control, it'd be disastrous.

Second—if it was truly as powerful as claimed, why waste it? Better to take it back for study.

Swish… "Ahh…"

Huang Yixiao reacted slower than Zhang Su. But as Zhang Su attacked, he instinctively dodged—and squeezed the pill with all his strength, determined to go down fighting. Before he could crush it, his wrist burned with pain—and his arm felt suddenly light.

Plop.

His wrist was cleanly severed. The pill and his hand fell to the ground. Blood sprayed like water.

"I'll kill you!"

His hand severed, Huang Yixiao's eyes flooded with blood. He went berserk, screaming, abandoning all defense—charging straight at Zhang Su, swinging his remaining arm with terrifying ferocity.

Puff… puff…

Huang Yixiao's combat skill was decent. Even with one arm, he managed two exchanges with Zhang Su. But mostly because Zhang Su wasn't trying to kill him—if he had, one strike would've ended it.

For Huang Yixiao, this level of skill was impressive. In full health, he might've matched Lu Yu in a 4-6 split.

Boom…

Two clashes were his limit. Zhang Su didn't hold back because he had one arm. He struck again—a fist the size of a sandbag slammed into Huang Yixiao's skull!

Thud. Solid. Unyielding.

Huang Yixiao staggered back, eyes spinning, stars flashing before him…

That trope—giving the enemy time to recover after a hit—only existed in stupid TV dramas. Reality: Zhang Su gave him no pause. He stepped forward and landed three more punches!

Boom boom… boom. Not strong enough—dazed, brain hurt.

Huang Yixiao finally collapsed. His vision went black. He lay on the ground—brain hemorrhage? Who knew.

"Still trying to fight? Who gave you the guts, you piece of shit."

Zhang Su muttered, bending to pick up the white wax pill. Tiny cracks already marred its surface—just a little more pressure and it would shatter.

He brought it to his nose and sniffed.

"Ugh!"

An indescribable stench seeped from the cracks, blasting straight to his brain. His stomach churned. Thank God he hadn't eaten lunch—if he had, he'd've vomited all over the ground. "What the hell is this? No wonder he wouldn't swallow it!"

Zhang Su swallowed hard. A pill that made you fight to the death—why make it smell like this? What a terrible final experience. Was the point to make the enemy vomit from the stench? Pfft… pfft…

Zhang Su tore several strips of cloth from Huang Yixiao's clothes. He wrapped the walnut-sized pill into a fist-sized bundle. The stench vanished. He stuffed it into his bag, then dragged Huang Yixiao back to the convoy.

"Husband, what happened to this guy…?"

Zheng Xinyu saw Zhang Su dragging back a corpse-like figure, wiped sweat from her brow, and asked curiously.

"This guy was the negotiator from before. Probably held some rank in Absolute Justice. He's likely the last survivor. Keep him alive for questioning. Give me rope."

"Here!"

Zheng Xinyu pulled a small coil of rope from her bag and handed it over, then reported the casualty count.

Zhang Su listened silently, tied Huang Yixiao up himself, then joined the rescue efforts.

After half an hour of frantic work, under the miraculous power of zombie brain matter, fourteen severely wounded were saved—all out of danger. Twelve were combatants; the other two were unlucky front-line captives.

After treatment, the wounded all recovered well—each brimming with energy.

Ironically, those with non-fatal wounds suffered more. Their injuries weren't severe enough for the miracle drug, but the burns and cuts burned fiercely. They all winced and gritted their teeth.

Most heartbreaking: three combatants had died permanently—one from the kindergarten branch, two from the auto park branch.

Auto Park members worked together, using tools to dig three large graves beside the dead trees by the road. A proper burial—rare dignity in the apocalypse. Absolute Justice's dead got no such honor.

"Heaven's will is unpredictable; human fortune is fleeting. Brothers, rest in peace!"

Zhang Su led everyone before the simple mounds. The three fallen lay in their graves. He held three lit cigarettes high, smoke curling. He bowed forward, then stuck the cigarettes into the earth. He lifted Ju Wuying's wine flask and poured wine over each mound.

Splash… crackle.

The wine soaked instantly into the dry soil—as if the three fallen brothers had tasted the liquor.

"Brothers, smoke well, drink well, rest easy. Twenty-six lives from Absolute Justice will pay for yours. But that's not enough… I say you shouldn't rush to be reborn. Who's having babies these days, right? Wait a while—more Absolute Justice lunatics will join you. Remember: I said this. I'll make it happen."

Zhang Su's tone wasn't loud. It was almost quiet. Those farther away couldn't hear. But those nearby felt goosebumps rise on their arms.

Whether the joke about the King of Hell was funny didn't matter. His promise was solemn—not just for the dead, but for the living to witness. Zhang Su slowly capped the wine flask and returned it to Ju Wuying. Then he turned to the Auto Park survivors and called out: "These three gave their lives so you could live. Pay your respects!"

At his words, Yang Xin immediately led the group forward. They bowed deeply three times before the mounds, then stood in silent mourning for one minute.

Funeral rites aren't for the dead—they carry different meanings in different times. Here, this ritual taught the living: warned them that peace isn't free. Their quiet lives were bought by others bearing burdens.

When the ceremony ended, Zhang Su called Yang Xin forward, pointed at the crowd, and asked: "That woman looks shattered. Who's her family?"

"Sigh…" Yang Xin touched his forehead wound, face grim. "Her name is Peng Ying. She was with that grave's little knife—a pair. They came to the Auto Park separately, then found each other. Poor, unfortunate couple…"

Zhang Su looked at Peng Ying. Several older women surrounded her, trying to comfort her. Kindness offered warmth—but words were always too weak.

He turned to Zheng Xinyu: "When you have time, talk to Peng Ying. Give her material compensation. Ask her about her future. If she wants to stay in logistics, assign her work she likes. If she wants to fight, bring her to the reserve squad—train with the Women's Army."

"OK, leave it to me!"

Zheng Xinyu nodded. This was her duty.

(End of Chapter)