Chapter 183: A Broken World, the Gods Come to Save

A rotting bird beat its tattered wings, slicing through the grey heavens trailing an aura of death.

Mid-flight, feathers fell like withered leaves, drifting swiftly through the ruins of a broken city before finally landing on a rusted iron railing outside a fortress-like building, where it tilted its head and let out a low, hoarse cry.

Its hollow, lightless eyes turned toward the tightly shut metal gate.

Crack!

A gunshot exploded in the silence, tearing through the stagnant air.

A reddened bullet pierced the grey dusk, striking the immortal bird with unerring accuracy; its body instantly disintegrated, rotten flesh and shattered bone scattering in every direction, dissolving into a clump of black smoke ripped apart by violence.

"Hey, not bad shooting, right?" A gaunt, humanoid figure emerged from the swirling sandstorm, a revolver-shaped pistol spinning idly on his index finger.

"Blackie, save your bullets. The underground fortress's ammo stockpile is already running low—we should be spending them on those annoying raiders instead."

From the drifting ochre dust, another thin, small figure stepped out, a heavy pack on his back and a large modified weapon in his hand.

The two figures arrived before the rust-streaked metal gate.

Listening to his friend's continued grumbling beside him, the one called Blackie pulled down his face mask and bared a grin of white teeth:

"Good haul today, so don't nitpick."

Saying so, he looked up at the camera above the metal gate and waved.

Shortly after, the metal gate let out a low, grating screech of metal on metal, as if some great beast were waking from slumber.

As the metal gate moved, flakes of rust rained down, scattering over the dust piled before it.

The hinges groaned under the strain, as if they might collapse entirely the next second.

The metal gate stopped moving once it had opened only half a meter wide, and the two figures slipped through the gap into the interior.

Entering the safety tunnel, a breath of air carrying a mix of metallic rust and disinfectant rushed to meet them.

The corridor inside was narrow and dim, the emergency lights overhead flickering unsteadily as if about to go out at any moment.

Advancing along the tunnel, the walls were plastered with various mottled warning signs, most already blurred beyond recognition, with only fragments like "Virus Quarantine — Do Not Approach" and "Emergency Evacuation Route" barely legible.

Nearby, thick steel beams crisscrossed haphazardly; the fortress interior resembled a colossal beehive, ringed by densely packed rooms and corridors, each room serving a different function.

Arriving at the great hall, countless gazes turned toward them.

The man called Blackie pointed at the pack on his friend's back, spread his arms, and let out a cheer:

"Good haul today—a batch of compressed biscuits, twenty-five years past their expiry."

Hearing this, the gaunt-faced survivors in the great hall lit up and joined in the cheer.

After briefly exchanging with the searchers in the hall the location where these supplies had been scavenged, Blackie took the pack his friend handed him and headed to the energy supply room.

This was the fortress's core area, divided into the energy supply zone and the communications center, where the generators' muffled roar was deafening.

Pipes and wiring snaked every which way across the room, like the blood vessels and nerves of some steel beast, channeling the energy that kept the entire fortress alive.

In the communications zone, a row of antiquated equipment flickered with faint lights, while an elderly man kept vigil at the instruments, trying to catch even the faintest trace of a signal from outside.

Yet, to this day, all they had received was endless silence and stillness.

Reaching the end, he pushed open a door—this was the fortress shelter's supply storage room.

It held the few remaining food, medicine, and daily necessities; the cans on the shelves had all rusted, their labels nearly illegible.

Blackie clearly remembered that the leader had taken these cans out to show off when he was very young.

But they had never been opened; keeping them here was merely for psychological comfort, a "quenching thirst by looking at plums" effect.

The medicine boxes on the shelves were also damaged, revealing uneven pills inside; the scarcity of supplies hung over the survivors like the scythe of the Grim Reaper, constantly reminding them how harsh the road ahead would be.

Handing the pack stuffed with compressed biscuits to the woman in charge of supplies for purification, Blackie then headed straight to the living quarters and pushed open a wooden door.

Inside, a group of children were huddled together, their faces sallow, their bodies thin and weak, their eyes filled with exhaustion.

Blackie carefully drew from his inner pocket a bar of chocolate already somewhat melted and misshapen; the children's gazes were instantly drawn to it, a longing kindling unbidden in their eyes.

"Brother Blackie, you're hoarding supplies," an older child whispered in warning.

Blackie didn't answer; he crouched down, tore open the foil wrapping, broke off a finger-sized piece, and held it out to the child who had spoken:

"Eat. Cut the chatter."

"Thank you, Brother Blackie."

The older child gathered his courage, took the chocolate, and split it into uneven smaller pieces, handing them out to the companions beside him.

The children took the chocolate, put it in their mouths; the sweetness, long absent and nearly forgotten, spread across their tongues, and satisfied smiles appeared on their grimy faces.

After distributing the chocolate to the children in turn, Blackie kept none for himself and turned to leave the room.

Blackie's room was on the first basement level—a thirty-square-meter room.

Setting aside all his gear, he went to the bathroom.

He crouched down, scooped up a handful of dry, fine sand, and rubbed it over his body; the grains slid slowly through his fingers with a rough texture.

Rubbing gently, the sand scraped against his skin with a faint "shaa-shaa," carrying away the oil and grime from the surface.

He continued to smear the sand over his chest, back, and legs, the grains rolling across his skin like countless tiny brushes.

Finishing the wash, he stood up, slapped and shook his body vigorously; the sand rained down like an old shell peeling from him, and though his skin remained dry, it felt a touch fresher.

Walking out of the bathroom and redressing, he sat down at the desk.

He lit a dim little lamp, took out a battered book, and began to leaf through it.

The book had been left behind by the room's previous owner, recording many scenes of the world before the Immortal Virus outbreak.

Turning the pages, his fingertips gently traced those long-faded pictures: beneath blue skies and white clouds, children ran across green grass, their laughter seeming to drift through the paper.

On bustling city streets, neon lights flickered, crowds milled about, faces beaming with carefree smiles; and that azure ocean, shimmering with light, as if one could smell the salty, damp sea breeze.

He stared at these images, his gaze gradually growing distant.

To him, these scenes were like phantoms of another world, as remote as a dream.

He tried to imagine such a world, but had no corresponding memories with which to weave the pictures.

Blue skies and white clouds?

The truth was, every time he stepped out of the fortress shelter, he looked up and saw only a gray, hazy sky, shrouded by a thick layer of dust that nearly blocked out the sun.

Green grass?

The areas he had explored held only cracked earth and vast quantities of withered vegetation, with not a trace of life to be found.

The more beautiful the descriptions in the book, the more he felt an indescribable sense of alienation.

Those bustling streets, clear rivers, warm sunlight… to him, they were like a fairy tale that had never existed.

He had doubted countless times whether such a world had ever truly existed, or if it was merely a beautiful illusion crafted by humans in despair.

At least he had never seen it with his own eyes.

It was just like the canned food in the old leader's hands—likely empty (no actual food inside).

He closed the book and let out a soft sigh.

His fingers unconsciously rubbed the book's spine; a faint mildew scent drifted from its pages, mingling with the smell of dust—just like the world he now inhabited, decaying toward ruin.

He carefully returned the book to its corner, burying a dream he had never been able to touch since birth.

Exhausted in body and mind, he lay on his bed and soon fell into sleep.

The beautiful scenes from the book appeared in his dream, but the moment he awoke, only the dim, mildew-scented room remained.

Leaning his arm on his forehead, he stared at the ceiling as Hei Pi began to drift into wild thoughts.

Just as he was about to rise, the door slammed hard:

"Hei Pi, get up and stand guard—a massive horde of Immortal Zombies is heading toward the fortress."

Hearing this, Hei Pi's relaxed nerves snapped taut; he leapt from bed, quickly dressed, and rushed toward the Exploration Hall.

Dozens of fully armed warriors had already gathered there; seeing him arrive, his childhood friend "Xiao Jin" hurried over, tense, and pressed a modified weapon into his hands:

"Hei Pi, get ready for battle—the Not-Dead Zombie Tide is coming."

As he spoke, Hei Pi pointed toward the large screen above the hall.

The screen was split into sixteen sections, each positioned near the fortress to monitor the outside environment.

Cold numbers and images flickered, finally freezing on a desolate scene of urban ruins.

In the footage, beneath a gray sky, swarms of Not-Dead Zombies were slowly moving toward the fortress.

Their bodies twisted and broken, skin rotted away, revealing gleaming white bones; their steps were stumbling and slow.

As time passed, the number of Not-Dead Zombies appearing on screen kept growing, like a black tide slowly drowning every inch the cameras could capture.

Realizing this was a You Shi phenomenon, Hei Pi clenched his weapon tighter.

You Shi was a phenomenon in the Mo Ri Shi Jie: Not-Dead Zombies, wandering aimlessly, gathered together; because those ahead had bodily damage and moved slowly, those behind piled up in greater numbers.

Gradually forming massive Not-Dead Zombie legions, advancing in overwhelming force.

This process was like highway traffic jams—vehicles ahead crawled slowly side by side, causing more and more vehicles to pile up behind.

Not-Dead Zombies evolved rapidly and possessed extremely sharp senses of smell.

Among them, some "Special Variants" had emerged, capable of detecting the presence of fresh blood from great distances.

Such a massive Not-Dead Zombie Tide likely contained one of these Special Variants.

The Zombie Tide could launch a devastating assault on the fortress at any moment.

If it happened, the fortress's blast doors might not withstand the destruction from these monstrously strong creatures.

All combat personnel gathered in the hall, eyes locked on the large screen above, the air thick with tension, almost suffocating.

"Release the disinfectant."

At that moment, a figure with white hair stepped beneath the large screen and spoke sternly to the operators at the control panel.

The operators did not hesitate—they immediately pressed the switch.

Instantly, two nozzles extended from outside the metal door, spraying a limited supply of purple liquid to disperse any lingering odors near the entrance.

Time passed; the Not-Dead Zombies in the screen's split views gradually filled every section.

The first wave of Not-Dead Zombies now approached the metal door, stumbling forward toward the distance.

No crisis had yet occurred, but the warriors in the hall felt unbearable tension—the danger was not over, for more Not-Dead Zombies were still coming.

The second wave also arrived, slowly drowning every inch of the camera's view; close-up lenses clearly captured the hollow eyes and grotesque faces of the Not-Dead Zombies, as if they might burst through the screen and pounce on everyone inside the fortress.

Low, guttural growls echoed throughout the hall.

In the silent environment, even the muffled thudding of hearts could be heard beating in different chests.

"Keep hold of your weapons—don't fire prematurely from nerves."

The white-haired leader spoke sternly, his gaze fixed on the screen just like the warriors'.

At that moment, Hei Pi took a deep breath, wiped sweat from his forehead, and turned to Xiao Jin beside him:

"Jinzi, do you think we can survive this round?"

"Of course we can—haven't we survived You Shi events before? Every time, we made it through safely. This won't be any different."

The man called Jinzi spoke with firmness, but his expression betrayed his tension, and he unconsciously swallowed hard.

The third wave of Not-Dead Zombies approached during their conversation.

The chatter in the hall ceased instantly; warriors gripped their weapons tightly, knuckles whitening from the pressure.

Just as they thought the third wave was ending, a single Special Variant appeared on screen—noticeably taller than the other Not-Dead Zombies.

Its skin was a strange bluish-black; beneath its rotting muscles, faintly glowing bones were visible; a few sparse strands of hair clung to its decaying flesh.

This Special Variant had been mechanically following the main horde, but suddenly seemed to sense something—it halted, swaying slightly from the pressure of the zombies behind, yet standing firm in place.

Its cloudy eyes slowly turned; two yellowed fangs emerged from its parted mouth.

Its nostrils flared rapidly, as if sniffing the air for some scent.

The warriors in the hall, already on edge, felt their hearts leap into their throats.

Even the white-haired leader's eyes flickered with panic.

The soldiers gripped their weapons tighter, everyone holding their breath as if making the slightest sound would completely enrage that zombie.

Everyone understood that once that zombie confirmed life existed within the fortress, they would face an unprecedented crisis.

Even if the Immortal Zombie Tide could not break through the fortress's explosion-proof metal doors, a prolonged siege would gradually exhaust their resources until they died.

As time passed, the Immortal Zombie with its unique skin tone, seemingly drawn by some signal, slowly rotated its body in place on the surveillance screen.

Though its movements were stiff, they carried an unsettling focus, its cloudy eyes occasionally sweeping toward the direction of the fortress.

Every casual sweep felt like a heavy hammer striking the hearts of the soldiers in the fortress hall.

Immediately, it began moving closer to the fortress; with every step, its body swayed uncoordinatedly, leaving patches of filth on the ground with its rotting feet.

As it walked, it constantly raised its head, sniffing the air, its head twitching from time to time.

The Immortal Zombie drew nearer, the soldiers' heartbeats growing more violent, as if they would burst through their chests.

Many young soldiers' hands trembled slightly uncontrollably. Seeing the soldiers' emotions stretched to the breaking point, the leader standing at the front spoke in a low voice:

"Don't panic, it isn't sure yet."

Yet the leader who spoke these words had fine beads of sweat covering his own forehead, his eyes revealing an unhidden Solemnity.

The zombie reached the thorn obstacles near the fortress, extending a withered, scar-covered arm to grope aimlessly at the barriers, emitting a low growl from its mouth.

The soldiers inside the fortress stared tightly at the surveillance screen, their nerves stretched to the extreme.

Click.

A soldier disengaged the safety on his firearm.

Click! Click! Click!

The other soldiers followed suit, disengaging their safeties, fingers resting on the triggers, their gazes shifting from the surveillance screen to the safe passage ahead.

The atmosphere became Ge Wai Ning Zhong; everyone held their breath.

Just then, the zombie on the surveillance screen suddenly licked the bloodstains on the railing, then turned and continued following the zombie tide toward the distance.

"Danger averted." The leader's voice, sounding as if a burden had been lifted, rang out.

At that moment, the soldiers' taut nerves received a brief respite.

Every soldier felt they had walked through the gates of death.

If this special-type Immortal Zombie launched an assault on the fortress gates, all Immortal Zombies would follow.

They did not know the specific reason, but analysis suggested that the virus within Immortal Zombies, upon detecting "food," would prompt the Immortal Zombie to release a special pheromone.

When an Immortal Zombie detected a life force and was attracted, the specific pheromone it released would be instantly perceived by other nearby zombies, like a chemical signal conveying the message "there is food here" to other zombies, attracting them to gather.

But the brief resolution of the crisis did not mean safety; the massive zombie tide behind was still advancing.

The fourth wave, the fifth wave... whenever a special-type Immortal Zombie appeared in the footage, the atmosphere in the fortress hall became Ge Wai Ning Zhong.

"Jinzi, do you know what I was thinking just now?"

Heipi nudged Jinzi standing beside him with his shoulder, speaking with a look of lingering fear.

"Thinking what?" Jinzi swallowed again, his gaze fixed on the large surveillance screen, but he replied anyway.

"I thought that if this crisis is averted, I will definitely take out all the biscuits I couldn't bear to eat last time and finish them. I suddenly realized one thing: the greatest regret of my life would be dying before I finished the biscuits."

"I thought it was a big deal. If we survive this crisis, I'll give you a pack of my collected Zhen Pin; it's only expired for two years."

Hearing these words, Heipi looked extremely surprised:

"Expired for two years? Where did you get it?"

"A group of wanderers we helped last time gave it. They supposedly once controlled a food production factory, so much of the food in their possession has a more recent production date."

"Damn, why didn't they give me any?" Heipi's eyes widened instantly.

"Because you're ugly."

The casual banter alleviated the oppressive mood considerably.

After a brief exchange, Heipi and Jinzi turned their gaze back to the large screen.

The zombie tide had passed halfway; special-type zombies appeared one after another, but no accidents occurred.

Everyone's mood fluctuated with the appearance of each special-type zombie.

Just then, a special-type zombie over three meters tall appeared on the surveillance screen.

When it was less than a hundred meters from the fortress, it suddenly dropped to the ground, crawling toward the fortress along pheromones invisible to the naked eye. When it was less than 30 meters away, it launched itself, knocking other Immortal Zombies aside, and crashed against the metal door like a madman.

The crisis descended with unexpected speed.

Boom!

Accompanied by a deafening roar, the metal door shook.

On the surveillance screen, all Immortal Zombies raised their heads after that deafening roar.

The orderly advance of the zombie tide was broken by that deafening roar.

Boom!

The second impact sounded.

Rust powder scattered from the metal door under the impact, and its edges scraped out a sharp sound.

Even the Immortal Zombies that had already walked far away stopped their aimless steps at that moment, a bloodthirsty glint surging in their cloudy eyes as they all turned toward the direction of the fortress.

Immediately, growls rose one after another, and all Immortal Zombies turned toward the fortress shelter.

Pushing and shoving against each other, they rushed toward the metal door without regard for anything.

Besides the door, even the walls became targets of attack.

Immortal Zombies possess no intelligence; they can only lock onto the specific location of a target through pheromones provided by other Immortal Zombies.

They have no concept of a "door"; every obstacle in their path becomes a target for their attack.

For a moment, the Immortal Zombies' growls, chaotic footsteps, and the sounds of bodies colliding intertwined, forming a terrifying symphony of death.

The soldiers inside the fortress, terrified by this sudden crisis, turned deathly pale.

They realized something terrible had happened.

Now that the pheromones had already spread, all the Immortal Zombies were attacking frantically, and they would not stop until the entire fortress was destroyed and every one of them slaughtered.

During this time, other passing Immortal Zombies would also join this frenzied assault.

Judging by the state of the metal gate, it probably wouldn't hold much longer.

Instantly plunged into a desperate situation, a look of despair surfaced in every warrior's eyes.

The fortress had recorded many historical events; some were brought by warriors who had fled from other regions, and they had documented scenes of shelters being surrounded by Immortal Zombies — the ferocious assault simply would not cease.

He looked up at the big screen.

Immortal Zombies felt no pain and knew no fatigue, throwing themselves wave after wave against the concrete walls.

Fine cracks had already appeared on parts of the wall, and once the plaster fell away, the metal steel plates inside were exposed.

During this process, the lower-bodied Immortal Zombies shattered into pieces from the impacts, black blood and chunks of flesh splattering everywhere, yet they never stopped damaging the walls.

"Prepare for battle!"

The aged leader let out a roar, then strode quickly to the control console and pressed a red button.

Instantly, red lights lit up in every section of the fortress, and two flamethrowers extended above the metal gate, spewing fire to scorch the Special Specimen and the Immortal Zombies beside it.

But the high-temperature flames did not slow the Special Specimen's assault in the slightest — even though its body was set ablaze, it still rammed the metal gate with all its might.

The leader then looked at the warriors standing ready in formation, their expressions despairing, and said in a deep voice:

"I know you're afraid. So am I. In the face of death, no one can remain calm — but…"

The leader paused, his gaze sweeping across every face:

"We still have the right to choose!"

"We can choose to give up and wait to be torn apart by the Immortal Zombies, or we can use our lives to defend the dignity of our kind (humanity). We cannot lose the courage to resist — even if there's only a sliver of hope, we must try to break out."

"When the gate is breached, all warriors protect the non-combatants and break out — for your families, fight to the death!"

The sound of weapons being cocked rang out one after another.

"All hands, prepare to meet the enemy. Use your bullets to tell these monsters we will never submit."

Having spoken, the leader, already white-haired, moved to the very front of the formation and raised the modified weapon in his hands.

The weapon was shaped like a steel beast, with six modified barrels arranged in a ring; each had been specially treated, its surface gleaming with a faint blue sheen, and the main body of the gun was refitted from materials salvaged from abandoned vehicles, with thick cooling fins covering the entire frame like scales.

Before long, the non-combatants from underground arrived one after another at the main hall.

Seeing them carrying bundles large and small, the leader couldn't help but roar:

"Throw everything away! Carrying supplies will only slow you down when you run — worry about food after you've escaped."

Under the leader's arrangements, the non-combatants were positioned at the center of the main hall, surrounded layer upon layer by the combat personnel.

The muffled sobs of children, the comforting voices of women… all manner of sounds intertwined, deepening the oppressive atmosphere of the scene.

Boom!

Just then, the metal gate at the end of the tunnel collapsed with a thunderous crash.

The ferocious figure of the 3-meter-tall Special Specimen Immortal Zombie, its body ablaze, was revealed under the flickering emergency lights.

"Break through!"

The white-haired leader pulled the trigger at this moment; the Gatling-like weapon's barrels spun and tongues of flame spat forth, and the warriors beside him all unhesitatingly squeezed their fingers tight on their triggers.

In an instant, a rain of bullets poured toward the front.

The Special Specimen zombie charging at the very front was driven back again and again by the dense barrage of bullets, even knocked off its feet several times by the impact, but after only a brief pause it quickly scrambled back up and lunged forward with a roar.

The tide of Immortal Zombies surged like an unstoppable black flood, pouring in endlessly.

"Advance!"

Following the leader's command, the warriors pushed forward.

Precious bullets, usually too precious to use, were now poured toward the front without the slightest reservation.

Relying on covering fire, the warriors advanced several meters behind the leader, but before they could exit the tunnel they fell back again.

They discovered the Immortal Zombies' bodies were simply too tough — bullets alone could not kill them.

The tunnel acted like a filter, reducing the number of Immortal Zombies that could rush in.

Even so, they still found it hard to advance.

But if they stepped out of the tunnel, they would face an endless swarm of zombies attacking from all directions.

At this moment, behind the leader, a look of despair also surfaced on that swarthy, ferocious face.

He had already realized the fortress's complete fall was only a matter of time — it wouldn't be long before their stockpiled bullets ran out.

When that moment came, what awaited them was being devoured alive by the Immortal Zombies.

It was only after putting the breakout plan into practice that they found it unworkable.

The Immortal Zombies' strength simply could not be opposed by the firearms in their hands.

Despair spread through the main hall; the sobs that kept rising were drowned out by gunfire, and everyone had already foreseen their own ending.

After being infected, they would become Immortal Zombies—though the greater likelihood was perishing amid the Immortal Zombies' frenzied gnawing.

Several minutes later, the Immortal Zombies broke into the main hall, and the leader at the very front of the formation had an arm torn off; though he survived, any contact with the Immortal Zombies meant infection was inevitable.

At this point, even putting a bullet through the temple could not reverse the ending.

The virus would devour flesh and blood energy within the body and multiply rapidly, and in the end they would still become an Immortal Zombie — a mindless husk driven by instinct alone.

Warriors fell one after another, just as everyone believed the chapter of their lives was about to end—

Something unexpected happened.

A dense crimson airflow, like a surging tide, swept violently into the fortress tunnel with the force of an avalanche.

This crimson airflow seemed to possess a life of its own, nimbly weaving through every crevice of the tunnel, and in the blink of an eye it filled the dim fortress main hall.

The light it released was as dazzling as the blazing sun, illuminating every corner of the tunnel as bright as day.

At the eleventh hour, the immortal zombies lunging at the surviving warriors were suddenly bound tightly by crimson qi.

Like countless resilient ropes, they swiftly wrapped around each immortal zombie's body, layer upon layer from limbs to torso, sealing them completely.

Struggling violently within the crimson qi's grip, the immortal zombies let out chilling roars, but all efforts were in vain.

Then, the crimson qi surged with force, dragging the zombies' bodies at incredible speed toward the tunnel's exit.

The bodies of all the immortal zombies left long trails across the ground, kicking up clouds of dust.

Under this immense pull, every immortal zombie inside the fortress space was yanked out of the tunnel and thrown heavily onto the open ground beyond.

This sight stunned the warriors in the hall who had already prepared for death; even Blackie, whose expression had been one of despair, now turned his gaze toward the tunnel entrance.

A figure appeared before his eyes.

He stood at the tunnel entrance like a statue, his upper body bare, every inch of skin radiating raw power.

The dim light carved the contours of his muscles, their taut, flowing lines exuding beauty.

His broad shoulders were thick as boulders, as if capable of bearing the weight of the entire world.

His deltoids rose high, meticulously sculpted, rigid yet fluid, full of three-dimensional strength.

In this age of food scarcity, where most survivors were emaciated from malnutrition, this body looked to Blackie like a god.

The rise and fall of his chest, in his eyes, resembled a towering castle—solid, broad, unshakable.

The biceps and triceps on his arms were like a pair of coiled bombs, veins snaking across the muscle surface like veins of power, ready to unleash immense energy at any moment.

When he clenched his fist slightly, the muscles tensed instantly, and crimson qi surged rapidly.

A crimson sheen instantly coated his bronze skin, like a natural armor, radiating wildness.

"Watch out!"

At that moment, the special-type zombie lunged at the figure.

Blackie, anxious, shouted out a warning without hesitation.

But what happened next made Blackie's eyes widen.

The special-type immortal zombie, capable of breaking through blast-proof metal doors and immune to bullets, had its neck gripped in a single hand.

The mysterious man's arm muscles twisted like hardened iron tongs, locking the special-type immortal zombie in place.

Fingers wrapped in crimson qi sank deep into the zombie's rotting flesh; the zombie thrashed desperately, emitting low, guttural roars—but all resistance was futile under the figure's control.

Then, the biceps on the mysterious figure's arm swelled violently, each muscle seemingly infused with endless energy, as he slammed down with crushing force, squeezing the zombie's neck tighter.

The crimson qi enveloping his body grew even more furious.

With a loud "Boom—"

The special-type immortal zombie's head exploded in his hand, black sludge and shattered brain matter spraying everywhere; bits of flesh and blood splattered onto his face, yet he paid no mind, merely scoffing as he shook his head, flinging the filth away—exuding sheer dominance.

The crimson qi continued swirling around him, washing away all filth.

The endless waves of immortal zombies nearby launched another assault.

He stood alone at the tunnel entrance, like a door god.

Facing the clawing, snarling immortal zombies, the mysterious figure roared like an enraged lion—each punch carried boundless power.

With every strike, crimson light trailed behind, and entire groups of immortal zombies fell.

The nightmare beings of their world were, before this figure, mere ants easily crushed.

The overwhelming power utterly stunned the survivors in the fortress hall.

They stared dumbfounded at the figure guarding the tunnel, even wondering if they were already dead and seeing nothing but a postmortem hallucination.

At that moment, the towering figure guarding the tunnel turned his head toward them.

He grinned, revealing white teeth, and raised his thumb.

At this moment, the player's mind was flooded with challenger prompts.

The group of protected survivors was providing a constant stream of wish-power, and in mere moments, 1,200 points had already been collected.

If traded on the marketplace, this would be worth at least 12,000 Shou Shou Jili.

The hardest part of exploring Suo Xiao Shi Jie wasn't dealing with immortal zombies.

These weakling zombies couldn't even pierce his defense if they stood still and tried to bite him.

The hard part was finding survivors.

Every time he located a survivor settlement, it generated massive wish-power.

At this moment, the regional voice channel was filled with players' shouts:

"Aaaah, who found survivors? I've been wandering for hours and haven't seen a single one! Anyone willing to share a survivor coordinate? I've got a whole backpack of food cans waiting to be processed."

"I think you're all showing off behind my back—500 Shou Shou Jili for a survivor settlement coordinate."

"I've recharged my flying sword twice and still haven't found a single hair—could it be that all the survivors in this world are dead, and we came here for nothing?"

"Can you all shut up? Don't mess with my head—I refuse to believe there isn't a single survivor left."

"So satisfying—gathering wish-power is this easy? The feeling of wish-power rising every second is amazing. Still no one found a survivor? (Screenshot of wish-power gains)."

……

Hearing Mao Mao Xuan posted his gains screenshot in the regional and guild chat channels, then clenched his fist tightly.

Instantly, the crimson qi surrounding him surged toward his right fist, gathering briefly before exploding forward in a devastating punch.

Boom!

The earth trembled; the crimson-fused punch wind tore through the air.

Before the punch even reached, searing heat had already swept outward.

The group of immortal zombies ahead let out low roars; their rotting bodies twisted and shattered under the crimson punch wind, as if crushed by an invisible giant hand.

The crimson qi continued surging forward like a raging dragon—wherever it passed, zombie bodies exploded, black blood and shattered bones sprayed everywhere, the air thick with stench and the smell of burning flesh.

This punch seemed to condense the power of heaven and earth into a single point—like divine judgment at the end of days—erasing all filth and decay from Hearing Mao Mao Xuan's sight.

After twisting his body to gather strength, the special trait of the Gao Qi reactivated.

He threw another heavy punch, and the Immortal Zombie seemed like a toy before his power.

In Hearing Mao Mao Xuan's eyes, the combat power of most Immortal Zombies, when placed in the Monster World, was merely on the level of the Golden Claw Crabs of the Colorful Mist Coast; killing them was as easy as chopping melons and cutting vegetables.

By comparison, the Tian Huo Fa Wang, also from a Small World, was simply the ultimate boss.

Measured by the standards of a Small World, it seemed the Tian Huo Fa Wang was not weak.

No wonder the presidents of several guilds wanted to control the Small World.

If a few troublemakers came, they might be able to overturn the entire world.

Especially those mage-type sissies with the Painful Painful Minghun of the Magic Tower; planting a tower here made them invincible, so why would they need their melee protection?

"Old Mao, I saw your screenshot of the Willpower earnings; did you find survivors? How is the situation?"

Just then, a voice sounded in his mind.

"I have already found survivors and am currently earning Willpower like crazy. Once I gather 33,000 Willpower and unlock the second skill of the Prayer, I will switch my Star Vein to the Support build. Wait for my good news."

"Contact us anytime if you need help; we are at the Emperor's Tomb Mountain Range and can come to support you immediately."

"No need, I can handle it alone; the monster strength in the Apocalypse Small World is very low."

After giving his reply, Hearing Mao Mao Xuan suddenly clenched his fist; crimson Qi flowed beneath his feet, and he raised his head to gaze at the dense swarm of Immortal Zombies surging toward him.

He had been playing melee for four months, either getting beaten up or on the way to getting beaten up.

At this moment, he finally experienced the joy of melee.

However, this was only a Small World, not his future main battlefield; he had already inlaid the Prayer Painful Painful Minghun, and if he didn't continue playing in the middle, he feared the guild brothers would block the village entrance and slaughter him.

He could be invincible in the Small World, but in the village, he was just a slightly stronger player, not even reaching the strongest tier.

The ability to inlay the Prayer Painful Painful Minghun was also due to the Shou Shou Jili gathered by the guild brothers.

Therefore, this would be his final dance playing the melee build.

A phantom battle axe slowly condensed in his hand, as if tempered from the sun; blazing flames burned on the axe blade, its light blinding, making him appear as if a god had descended to the world.

As the battle axe swung, golden flame currents sliced through the long sky, leaving behind arcs of light.

Under the axe light, the swarm of Immortal Zombies was like ants; their rotting bodies had not even approached before being burned to ash by the scorching Gao Qi, filling the air with black smoke and the stench of burning.

The battle axe swept horizontally, releasing golden flame currents that rolled like an angry dragon; Hearing Mao Mao Xuan, amidst the slaughter, seemed like a War God, crushing the Immortal Zombies with an invincible posture.

This scene completely shocked the survivors in the Fortress Shelter and overturned their worldview.

"Mommy, so there really are gods in the world who protect us."

A smile appeared on the innocent face of a little girl, who held up her picture book, which contained illustrated fairy tales.

The mother said nothing, her gaze still staring blankly at that invincible figure.

The battle outside continued.

After the survivors in the shelter realized they were already safe, their intense desire to survive began to diminish.

Discovering that the Willpower was decreasing, Hearing Mao Mao Xuan also accelerated his speed of harvesting Immortal Zombies.

Regarding how to obtain Shou Shou Jili, besides protection, there were many other methods; earning tens of thousands of points of Willpower in this world was definitely no problem.

At the same time, in the Shelter Hall.

Standing among the crowd, Hei Pi's eyes were fervent, his gaze staring fixedly at the invincible figure who was like a War God; having just heard the little girl's cry, he thought of that mythological story he had also heard of.

This story told of a god existing in the apocalypse wasteland world who saved all living beings, bringing hope and redemption to survivors trapped in desperate circumstances.

But as he grew older, he knew this was merely a fairy tale fabricated by the older generation.

The older generation knew well that despair would completely crush all survivors; fabricating this story was to bring a sliver of comfort to them in their desperate situation.

To make them believe that even if deeply trapped in desperate circumstances, there was still a possibility of being saved, and that they must continue to persist.

But at this moment, the god in the story had truly appeared.

Just as described in the story, no matter how many Immortal Zombies there were, they could not harm Him in the slightest.

"Xiao Jin, the myth has come true."

"Xiao Jin?"

Discovering no response from his side, Hei Pi suddenly turned his head, finding that Xiao Jin, who had been standing beside him, was gone.

Scanning the surroundings with his gaze, he saw Xiao Jin in a corner, his face ashen.

Pushing through the crowd, he arrived in front of Xiao Jin and found a patch of blood splattered by an Immortal Zombie on Xiao Jin's left cheek.

"Don't touch me."

Discovering Hei Pi wanted to touch him, Xiao Jin, who was now gritting his teeth and already somewhat confused in consciousness, roared.

Hei Pi's body trembled uncontrollably; he knelt before Xiao Jin, his eyes turning red.

This was his good brother from childhood, not a blood brother but better than one; every time they went out to explore, it was the two of them together.

"Hei Pi... give me a shot, let me go quickly; I can't bear it anymore, it really hurts so much."

Xiao Jin spoke through gritted teeth, his voice already indistinct, as if squeezed out from his throat; fine beads of sweat constantly seeped from his forehead, and his eyes held both a longing for life and a fear of death.

"Okay."

At this moment, Hei Pi raised the gun barrel, aiming it at Xiao Jin's head.

His breathing grew heavier; he forcefully inhaled air, trying to muster the courage to pull the trigger, but he could not summon any strength.

"Hei Pi, I beg you, hurry up."

Xiao Jin's eyes had already turned gray-white; this was the sign of Immortalization, the Immortal Virus raging within his body.

Seeing the pain on his brother's face, Hei Pi finally made up his mind, gritted his teeth, and pressed the trigger.

At the critical moment, an arm suddenly grabbed the gun barrel and lifted it upward.

Bang!

Blackie looked up and saw the bullets strike the belly of the god, who was enveloped in a crimson aura, leaving not a single mark.

"You want to save him?"

"Yes." Blackie nodded without hesitation, a look of longing appearing in his eyes.

He believed this god certainly had the power to heal his brother.

"How much do you want to?"

"I am willing to trade my own life for his."

Hearing these words, the man on Blackie's face, who looked as powerful as a god, showed a smile, then looked down at Little Jin, who was struggling in pain:

"What about you? How strong is your desire to continue living?"

(End of this chapter)