The Walking Dead: Starting as a Cowboy

Under the moonlight, the dead man stood up.

Moore grinned and shouted arrogantly, "You scum, want to eat my flesh? Come on!"

Several zombies staggered forward, their murky eyes revealing a bloodthirsty desire.

Immediately, Moore didn't retreat but counterattacked, charging headlong into the midst of several zombies.

A cold glint flashed, and the dagger slammed into the eye of a zombie, causing the exploding fluid to splatter everywhere.

Moor did not turn around, but kicked out with his hind leg.

The zombie that attacked from behind immediately fell to the ground. Moore twisted the dagger, and the flesh made a sticky stirring sound. The zombie lost power like a robot that had lost power.

The zombie beside him was already close, its mouth open as if to bite.

Moore remained calm and composed, delivering a right elbow strike.

The arm guard had sturdy triangular spikes on the back, which pierced the zombie's mouth in one go. After pulling out the arm, the zombie fell to the ground.

Twisting his body, using the momentum of rotation, the dagger pierced through his jaw and into his brainstem, extinguishing the life in the zombie's eyes.

In the blink of an eye, several walking corpses lay on the ground.

Moore chuckled and kicked the corpse on the ground twice. "Want to eat me? You'll have to practice in your next life."

The entrance and exit made another series of muffled thuds as the zombies jumped down.

More and more zombies are approaching this way.

His smile froze, and Moore spat, "Fuck, I'm going to take on ten of them!"

Moore once again ventured into the zombie room.

With each wave of his arm, the zombies at the entrance and exit kept falling down, and the sound never stopped.

The zombies kept attacking.

"Uncle, be careful!" The little girl broke free from her mother's embrace, took two steps forward, and shouted a warning.

Moll glanced to the side and realized something was wrong.

There are too many walkers. Maybe I won't be killed by them, but by exhaustion.

"ah--"

A sharp scream came from the little girl, and Moore waved his arms to push away the approaching zombies.

A zombie was seen reaching out its arm to the little girl.

With a soft slur.

The cold, white cleaver embedded itself in the skull, making a chilling scraping sound.

The woman, her face contorted with rage, roared and brandished her machete: "Don't touch my daughter!"

The fallen zombie's body was hacked and swayed, its head smashed open.

Several more zombies turned their attention to the mother and daughter. Moore sprinted two steps and delivered a flying kick.

The zombie was kicked backward, its face slamming against the wall. Before it could get up, a dagger slashed through the air and pierced its head, rendering it motionless.

Give me the machete!

After Moll threw the dagger, he reached out to the mother.

She immediately handed it over, turned around, picked up her daughter, and hid behind her to avoid holding Moore back.

Moore brandished his machete in mid-air, then turned to face the walker. "Round two."

As if enraged, the zombie quickened its pace, roared, charged forward, and died with its head severed.

With the machete in hand, Mor's combat power increased significantly, and he killed all the zombies in front of him in the blink of an eye.

However, the zombies at the entrance and exit were still falling down.

Moor gasped for breath and cursed, "Dead men should just die properly."

Strolling forward, dodging, slashing, dodging, slashing...

The corpses of the zombies piled up more and more, until there was no place to stand.

Moore had barely caught his breath after killing a zombie when another zombie crashed into him from the side.

He tried to step back, but tripped over the corpse, and Moore instantly lost his balance.

The zombie seized the opportunity to open its foul-smelling mouth and bite down.

Moore's arm guards stood between him and the walker, but before he could deal with the walker, the walkers around him pounced on him.

In the blink of an eye, it completely covered Mo'er.

Not seeing Moore, the mother clearly panicked, glancing around the room with trembling eyes, her gaze locking onto the dagger Moore had thrown out.

The little girl couldn't be as rational as her mother. Unable to see Moore, she cried out, "Uncle Moore! Uncle Moore, come out quickly!"

Round tears rolled down her cheeks as the little girl cried loudly.

Moore was pounced on by the walkers, and the other walkers who had just entered naturally began to approach the little girl.

The little girl took two steps back in fear, her voice trembling as she murmured, "Mommy, Uncle Moore, Mommy..."

The mother retrieved the dagger, rushed back, screaming and brandishing it.

I tried very hard, but the effect was mediocre.

When she stopped, she saw that the two zombies had knife marks all over their arms, but no injuries on their faces. They were still reaching forward, completely unaffected.

The mother pushed the little girl back slightly, gripped the dagger in both hands, and nervously pursed her dry lips.

"Ada, step back. Step back a little."

The mother took a few deep breaths, stepped forward, and thrust the dagger in.

It only pierced the zombie's face, getting stuck in the cheekbone, and couldn't go any further.

The zombie's claws reached towards the mother's face, and she immediately recoiled and retreated a few steps.

The zombie, with the dagger in its face, moved forward.

The mother could only protect Ida, constantly retreating, playing a game of cat and mouse with the walkers.

The small basement didn't offer much hiding space, and they were quickly surrounded by walkers.

The mother looked at her young daughter with despair, tears welling in her eyes. She reached out and stroked Ida's cheek. "I'm sorry, Ida. I didn't let you live. I'm not a good mother."

Ida stopped crying, and just shook her head. "Mom, you are the best mom in the world."

The zombie lunged forward.

The mother held Ida tightly, wanting to bear the zombies' bites herself, and closed her eyes.

But after closing my eyes for a while, I didn't feel any pain.

The mother opened her eyes.

Moor, as if he had been killed in a bloody hell, was covered in black blood, revealing his still relatively white teeth, and shook the blood off his machete.

"Are you alright?"

The little girl peeked out from her mother's arms, looked at Moore with a smile, and said, "Uncle Moore."

Moore chuckled twice, then suddenly staggered. His mother quickly stepped forward to support him, asking with concern, "Are you hurt?"

Moore waved his hand, "I'm exhausted, too tired."

The mother turned her head to look at the entrance and exit, where the zombies had come out again.

"don’t worry."

Moore offered a few words of reassurance, then looked at Ida, who was staring with wide eyes, and asked, "What's your name?"

"My name is Ida, Uncle," Ida replied obediently.

"Do you believe your uncle can kill them all?"

Ada nodded vigorously like a chick pecking at rice, looking as if she absolutely believed it.

Mohr couldn't help but laugh at the sight of that little face.

After catching his breath, Moore stood up, took the rifle from behind him, and glanced at the mother and daughter.

Cover your ears.

The mother covered her ears with both hands, and Ida covered her ears with her little hands, her big eyes staring straight at Moore.

Mo'er smiled indulgently, "Cover it up."

Ida immediately did as she was told, squeezing her head hard with her little hands, her whole face showing her effort.

Mohr turned around, slid the bolt to chamber a round, and switched the lever to full automatic.

"Go to hell, you bastard!"