Chapter 557: My Dad Is Amazing! (Please, Subscribe!)

"Everyone except the Wangs, put your hands on your heads, squat down, and don't move!"

After speaking, Zhang Su gestured to his companions and walked toward the opposite group.

Dozens of combat personnel immediately followed behind.

Thud. Thud. Thud…

The rhythmic thumping of boots on the ground signaled the approach of dozens of well-armed, alert soldiers; the battered survivors complied without resistance, all lowering themselves into squatting positions with hands on their heads.

Wang Guangjun had no time to process the information his son had given him; in a daze, he saw a dark mass of figures drifting toward him, and seeing his companions all squatting, he hurriedly dropped down too—while also grabbing the arm of his son, who stood motionless beside him.

"No need, Dad—the other side said Wangs don't have to… hey!"

The young man looked noticeably stronger than the old man, but his strength was nowhere near comparable—he was helplessly pulled down, his expression awkward.

Seeing everyone else with hands on their heads and his son's sulky face still uncovered, Wang Guangjun quickly grabbed his son's arm and forced it onto his head, his voice hoarse with reprimand: "Follow orders, or you'll suffer for it!"

"Old Wang, spoiled yogurt smells bad—what's there to suffer?"

Zhang Su walked up to Wang Guangjun and cracked a loud joke.

Wang Guangjun was a neighborhood milk deliveryman; after the disaster, he survived solely by drinking milk—first fresh milk, then yogurt when the fresh milk spoiled, and even by the time he left the neighborhood, he still hadn't finished the yogurt.

Zhang Su, Zheng Xinyu, and Zhong Xiaoshanjian had all drunk plenty—not for free, though; they'd traded instant noodles and cigarettes with Wang Guangjun.

Wang Guangjun, squatting with his head down and hands clasped, froze at Zhang Su's voice—he'd never heard it before, despite hearing the loudspeaker announcements countless times.

The familiar voice pierced his mind; he looked up at the man before him, his vision slightly blurred, and instinctively stood up.

"Oh my god… this, uh…"

Tan Huajun finally saw Wang Guangjun's face clearly; the strong woman finally broke, turning away as tears streamed down her face, her sobs heavy with grief.

Zhang Ya stood beside Tan Huajun; she didn't know the history between Tan and Wang, but she knew Tan needed comfort, needed a shoulder—she pulled her into a tight embrace, unsure how to console her, so she simply patted her back gently.

"Brother Zhang? Is that really you?"

Even after hearing the voice and seeing the face, Wang Guangjun still couldn't believe what lay before him.

"Yes, yes!"

Lu Yubo leapt forward, waving his arms excitedly, shouting: "Uncle Wang, do you remember me? I'm Lu Yubo! Do you remember me?"

Back at the gas station, Lu Yubo had wanted to join Zhang Su, but Zhang Su had been furious at Lu's refusal to kill his own zombified companion—only after Wang Guangjun pleaded on his behalf did Zhang Su agree to take him in.

Lu Yubo had always been grateful to Wang Guangjun, never expecting to repay him—after all, in the apocalypse, no one knew if they'd live to see tomorrow—but seeing him now, reduced to this pitiful state, made Lu Yubo's nose sting.

"Lu Yubo…" Wang Guangjun studied the man before him, and for the first time, a smile cracked across his horrific face—one corner of his mouth lifting: "It really is you, Brother Zhang, and Little Lu!"

"Damn it, Old Wang, finally believe it? Of course it's us—not just us two, Old Tan's here too. You… you remember her, right?"

Zhang Su paused mid-sentence, his emotions swirling.

Their initial meeting had been brief, but under the extreme circumstances, Wang Guangjun and Tan Huajun had developed feelings—had Wang not needed to go to the university for his son, they would have walked together through the apocalypse.

Reuniting should have been a good thing—but now Wang Guangjun was unrecognizable. It wasn't that he found the man ugly; it was the sheer fear his appearance inspired, an unbearable barrier.

Hearing Tan Huajun's name, Wang Guangjun's left cheek twitched visibly; he immediately lowered his head, waving his hands frantically: "I remember her, but we shouldn't meet—I can't face Tan Mei with how I look now…"

Everyone around was no fool; even without anyone revealing details, they quickly pieced together a story from scattered clues—each version slightly different, but all broadly similar.

The crowd sighed. So the legendary sharpshooter, Fat Sister, had once shared a bond with this man? What a tragedy—Wang Guangjun had already met the Reaper so early, yet hadn't walked beside her, ending up like this.

Everyone wondered why Wang Guangjun had parted ways with the Reaper, but no one dared ask now—only a handful knew the truth, and asking wouldn't yield answers.

"Big Brother Wang!"

Tan Huajun wasn't deaf; with Wang Guangjun's hearing impaired, he spoke loudly—she heard every word. She pulled away from Zhang Ya's shoulder and walked slowly toward Wang Guangjun, her rifle slung over her shoulder, her face filled with tender sorrow.

"Big Brother Wang, it's me—Tan Huajun. What happened to you? What did you go through? Waaah…"

Tan Huajun was shattered.

After the apocalypse, she'd been trapped alone at the gas station, waiting, waiting—until survivors finally came, only to find Zhang Su terrifying, Zheng Xinyu and Zhong Xiaoshanjian equally harsh—only Wang Guangjun had spoken to her kindly.

For the first man to comfort her after the collapse of the world, Tan Huajun had etched his image into her heart. Though Wang Guangjun was over a decade older, that didn't stop her feelings from growing; in quiet nights, she'd imagined their reunion—maybe it would happen, maybe not.

If it didn't, fine. But if it did, it would be beautiful—if he was alone, she'd stay with him; if he had someone else, she'd compete!

Hope was hope, fantasy was fantasy—but reality was cruel. The reunion had come, unexpectedly—but the man before her had changed beyond recognition.

The hardships of this journey, only Wang Guangjun himself knew.

Tan Huajun was heartbroken—not just by Wang Guangjun's transformation, but by her own inability to look past his appearance and see only his soul.

They say love means loving the soul—but saying it is easy, living it is impossibly hard.

"I… I…"

Wang Guangjun stammered, unable to speak. His emotions surged, yet he shrank from Tan Huajun, wishing he could vanish into the ground—but before he could turn, he was pulled into a tight embrace.

"Big Brother Wang, let me take care of you from now on."

Tan Huajun summoned the courage to voice her heart—emotion couldn't be denied, but reality was even more painful.

Zhang Su said nothing. Given Tan Huajun's contributions and abilities, and considering Wang Guangjun a fellow fighter—even if broken—he'd be kept alive.

"Um…"

The young man squatting beside Wang Guangjun raised his head, sensing the misunderstanding: "My dad's eyes and ears are damaged, that's all—he's fine otherwise, and he's really strong. Really strong."

"What nonsense! Killing a few zombies is 'strong'? You've never seen the real world!"

Wang Guangjun didn't react with pride to his son's praise—he scolded him instead.???

The crowd paused, stunned—but for everyone, this was the first good news they'd heard.

They'd assumed Wang Guangjun was half-dead; now they learned he could still kill zombies—stronger than many ordinary support members!

If they knew the "few zombies" he'd killed were the rabid zombie dogs from yesterday, they'd be even more shocked! Tan Huajun, still emotionally overwhelmed, noticed the boy's odd gaze and quickly released her grip, stepping back two steps, cheeks flushed: "Strong is good… strong is fine…"

"Old Tan, maybe you should listen to what you just said."

Zhang Su felt the mood was too heavy; he forced cheerfulness, noticing others' expressions soften. He clapped Wang Guangjun on the shoulder and announced loudly:

"Old Wang, if I'm not mistaken, this is your eldest son, right?"

Wang Guangjun nodded, yanking his still-squatting son, Wang Zhetao, to his feet—swift, decisive, not graceful, but undeniably powerful.

"That's right, Brother Zhang. His name's Wang Zhetao. Useless as they come!"

Wang Zhetao frowned, embarrassed—but his mood was actually decent; he chuckled awkwardly and scratched his head.

Everyone around relaxed; no one took Wang Guangjun's words seriously—eighty percent of fathers described their sons that way. Normal.

But they didn't know—it was Wang Guangjun's true thought…

Saving Wang Zhetao was Wang Guangjun's mission. With luck and strength combined, he completed it—but that was only the beginning of his post-apocalypse life. From the moment he rescued his son, the real journey had just started.

In the days that followed, Wang Zhetao's behavior deeply disappointed Wang Guangjun…

From childhood to adulthood, the few months they spent together in the apocalypse were the longest they'd ever shared—nearly inseparable, learning each other intimately—and finally… the son thought his father stubborn, the father thought his son useless.

Among the crowd, only Ding Yongguo understood Wang Guangjun—he sensed from his tone and expression that his son was no better than his own nephew. He sighed inwardly.

"Come on, Old Wang, you can't talk about your own kid like that," Zhang Su waved his hand, smiling at Wang Zhetao: "I think Little Tao's fine."

"Fine." A perfectly polite, diplomatic phrase.

"Brother Zhang, I'm telling the truth. Look at this brat—he doesn't even say hello. Come on, say 'Uncle Zhang!'"

"No way. Brother Zhang is so young—'Uncle' sounds ridiculous. Let's just call each other by name. Brother Zhang, nice to meet you."

Wang Zhetao smiled broadly and bowed deeply to Zhang Su.

Among the crowd, Ding Yongguo silently glanced at his nephew—only to see his face twisted in disdain, clearly disgusted by the flattery, his contempt written plainly.

Ding Yongguo rolled his eyes inwardly: Look at him. Now look at you!

If two teenagers of similar age were both combat liabilities, Wang Zhetao had already shown one strength—he knew how to speak sweetly!

Too bad…

Anyone else might have fallen for Wang Zhetao's charm—but Zhang Su didn't care. In his view, charm alone was "0." Without the "1" of real strength, "0" meant nothing.

"Haha, fine! Let's just call each other by name!"

Zhang Su clapped Wang Zhetao's arm—muscle tone was decent, so combat ability was probably acceptable. But what did Old Wang mean by "useless"? Now wasn't the time to investigate. After the greeting, Zhang Su turned to Wang Guangjun: "It's been hard, Old Wang—you've finally gotten what you wanted. We shouldn't stand here chatting. One question: do you want to come with me?"

"Brother Zhang… can I say something?"

The middle-aged man beside them, ignored until now, spoke up awkwardly—he'd been the group's leader, left standing aside too long.

Zhang Su looked at him, raised a hand—go ahead.

The favoritism was glaring: warm and friendly with Wang Guangjun, cold and distant with this man—clearly saying: I was just catching up with an old friend. You don't deserve my courtesy.

"We're refugees from Niuyazi. I'm Hu Yong'an. We contacted the Survivors' Alliance before, but I saw LeGou Mall…"

"No need to look. The person who talked to you yesterday was me."

"Huh?"

Hu Yong'an pointed helplessly toward LeGou Mall, staring in shock at the young man before him.

Zhang Su felt a pang of awe—these people had traveled dozens of kilometers to reach Qincheng. Human potential, under crisis, was limitless.

"Let me be straight: the Survivors' Alliance no longer exists. Only Tianma Isle does. See those people? All former ordinary members of the Survivors' Alliance. These few were their core members—they've all joined Tianma Isle.

And these, former members of Tianqi Corps; these, from Xiao Ying Society; those over there, from Civilization Guardians—all have joined Tianma Isle. So—what's your choice?"

Hu Yong'an and his group exchanged glances. Qincheng had changed utterly. Zhang Su had named four factions he'd heard of—all formidable, at least equal to Niuyazi Camp! And now all four had willingly joined Tianma Isle, not under coercion—clear proof of Tianma Isle's strength.

As Niuyazi's leader, Hu Yong'an was no fool. While others were still stunned, he'd already decided—he nodded firmly: "We want to join Tianma Isle too. Brother Zhang—no, Boss Zhang—please take us in!"

As he spoke, he removed his gloves with dignity, clasped his fists in salute, his bearded face earnest, his eyes filled with sincerity.

Zhang Su looked at the ragged Niuyazi survivors—each pair of eyes held hope. Finally, he turned to Wang Guangjun and said plainly: "Old Wang, your companions all want to join Tianma Isle. You know me—I know you, but I don't know them. I welcome anyone who joins, but the procedures can't be skipped."

Wang Guangjun listened intently; when Zhang Su finished, he slapped his chest: "Brother Zhang, we all want to join your camp. We'll follow your rules, no questions. If you tell us to crawl, we won't walk!"

"No, no…"

Zhang Su wouldn't lower his guard because of Wang Guangjun—but he wouldn't go too far either. That wasn't justice. "I must protect my men. First, surrender all weapons. Then, bind your hands. If you object, speak now—you're free to leave. I won't stop you."

The Niuyazi survivors had endured much. At Zhang Su's demand, they all nodded. Some faces remained numb.

"Since there are no objections, good. Follow my orders: hand over your weapons first."

Ding ding dang dang.

Everyone threw out the weapons they were carrying; apart from a few crudely made homemade guns, there was only one passable standard-issue pistol, the rest were all cold weapons, and they appeared to be of poor quality.

(End of chapter)