"Son!" Fang Zhiyi turned around after class to see his unserious father, who had been dressing more casually each day since arriving here—now sporting shorts, a tank top, and flip-flops.
"Perfect." Fang Zhiyi handed him the bow and arrows in his hand. "I'm heading out."
"What?" Fang's Father froze, then shook his head repeatedly. "No way. You can't go. It's life or death."
Fang Zhiyi's gaze was firm. "I've already died once." This wasn't a lie—though it was the original host who had died.
Fang's Father stared at his son, momentarily at a loss for words. "Then... should I go with you?"
"No need. Pick a few trustworthy people who'll follow orders!" Fang Zhiyi strode away.
"Wait, where are you even going?"
"To find guns."
After the tough act, Fang Zhiyi turned to Little Hei beside him. "You're sure most of the infected have wandered to the west?"
Little Hei patted his chest. "Host, I guarantee it! One hundred percent!"
"You're only good for this much. Look at other systems—flying, diving... Just remember, if I die, you're stuck like this."
"Host, you gotta trust me!"
Soon, the expedition team assembled—seven people, plus Fang Zhiyi, making eight.
Fang's Father introduced them: "This is Old He, used to be in charge of logistics at our company."
Old He chuckled awkwardly. "I never liked company gatherings, so I rarely saw the young master."
Fang Zhiyi scrutinized each person—men and women from different departments.
"The goal of this trip is to find guns. You all know what it's like out there. If we only rely on bows and machetes, we're dead sooner or later." Fang Zhiyi studied their expressions—some fearful, some indifferent, others worried. "This mission affects everyone's future here. I demand absolute obedience. If you can't handle that, back out now. No one will blame you."
Not a single person withdrew. They understood the stakes—Fang's Father had already briefed them.
Fang Zhiyi nodded. "Good. Let's move out!"
The team chose to travel on foot—cars were too loud, and no one dared bet on whether the city roads were still passable. Back at the base, Fang's Father clutched a walkie-talkie, watching their retreating figures, unconsciously wiping away tears.
Before even reaching the city, the eight were stunned by the sight before them.
The road was littered with wrecked vehicles, severed limbs scattered along the sidewalks, birds circling overhead.
"Look over there!" The only woman in the group pointed to a field beside the road.
"It's just a scarecrow... Why the fuss—" A male colleague's bravado died in his throat.
Indeed, it was a scarecrow—one made from a corpse. The dead face bore a grotesque smile, as if its owner had died happy.
Further out, dozens more such scarecrows stood. The group's scalps prickled.
"F-Fang... Young Master Fang, did the infected do this?"
Fang Zhiyi replied calmly, "Yes."
"But they..."
Fang Zhiyi looked at his shaken team. "They aren't like the zombies you've seen in movies. The infected are human—or were. They retain human consciousness, and they've amplified the worst of humanity. Now you understand what we're up against?"
With that, he led the way forward. Little Hei descended from the sky. "Host, no infected nearby."
With Little Hei's surveillance, the group entered the city smoothly, encountering no infected. The team gradually relaxed.
But the relief didn't last. Once they reached the streets, horror struck again.
The streets were chaos—cars crashed into lampposts, bodies hanging from second-floor windows, mutilated corpses impaled on fences, a half-eaten pale thigh... Everything screamed of the atrocities committed here.
Finally, someone broke. Outside the city, the horrors had kept their distance. Here, human remains surrounded them.
"Ugh!" The first person vomited, followed by another.
Fang Zhiyi wasn't rushed. They needed time to adjust—better now than later. His calm came from Little Hei's report that a nearby group of infected had moved on.
"Host! The infected just turned back!" Little Hei cried urgently.
Fang Zhiyi stiffened. "You said they left!"
"I don't know! They suddenly turned around!"
Fang Zhiyi whirled, scanning the area—then spotted a walkie-talkie on a roadblock, its green light blinking.
"Shit! It's a trap!" Fang Zhiyi shouted. "Run for the city limits!" Yet he pointed at an apartment building, still yelling, "Go! Get out of the city!" as he sprinted toward the building.
Old He caught on first. "To the city! Move!" He kicked a vomiting man and dragged another, following Fang Zhiyi. All eight ran.
The apartment's iron door was already smashed. They rushed inside, up the stairs. Fang Zhiyi, crossbow ready, carefully pushed open an ajar door—a long-dead corpse lay in the living room. He checked each room, confirming safety before relaxing.
Turning, he saw his team staring dumbfounded at the corpse.
"Shocking? You'll get used to it." Fang Zhiyi murmured, then peered cautiously out the window.
Sure enough, a horde of infected swarmed below, searching excitedly around the walkie-talkie. They even flipped over trash cans. Soon, a blonde woman stepped forward.
She wore only a skirt—with a walkie-talkie clipped to it—her bare torso smeared with blood. Pointing toward the city limits, she rasped, "There!"
The infected laughed and charged in that direction.
"That... that's my ex-girlfriend..." Fang Zhiyi turned to see Lei Fuming trembling as he spoke.
"Yeah. My condolences." Fang Zhiyi watched the blonde woman pick up a severed head, tucking it under her arm with a crazed giggle, and shook his head.