Courtyard House: I fish in the heavens, a professional bird abuser.

Chapter 239 The Goddess of Nemesis Appears, That Big Guy

Payton's groans pulled He Yuanchao from his light sleep.

He wasn't actually asleep.

He simply leaned against a stone pillar next to the altar and closed his eyes for a while.

In the apocalypse, those who truly fall asleep don't live long. The most important thing he learned in the world of Bright Sword was how to maintain 60% alertness even with his eyes closed.

Just take a nap.

It would be enough to recover 10% or 20% of one's energy.

True deep sleep can only be indulged in in an absolutely safe place.

But churches are clearly not that kind of place.

"Payton?"

Jill's voice came from the other side. She was leaning against the armrest of a row of wooden chairs, clutching a gun. She clearly hadn't slept soundly either.

Payton snorted again.

He Yuanchao opened his eyes and looked over.

In the dim candlelight, Payton looked worse than he had two hours earlier. The oily sheen on his face had turned an unhealthy sallow, his lips were purple, and large beads of sweat rolled down his forehead.

His injured leg was twitching involuntarily.

The bandage was soaked through with dark exudate, emitting a faint smell, like rotting flesh mixed with disinfectant.

He Yuanchao's nose twitched.

He smelled it.

He had smelled that smell countless times in the hive—the corpses infected with the T-virus would emit this peculiar odor before they mutated.

It's cloyingly sweet.

It carried a slightly metallic, rusty smell.

time is limited.

At this rate, Payton won't last until tonight.

He Yuanchao did not say it to Jill's face.

He simply pulled a syringe from his pocket.

He had taken it from the medical storage room next to the hospital's ammunition depot—it contained a tube of high-concentration broad-spectrum antibiotics.

It's not a cure.

However, it can slow down the spread of infection.

It's like putting a piece of tape on a leaky bucket—it's a temporary fix, but at least it buys you a few more hours.

"Stretch out your arm."

He Yuanchao walked over to Payton and squatted down.

Peyton groggily opened his eyes and, seeing the syringe in He Yuanchao's hand, instinctively shrank back.

"What is this?"

"This is a lifesaver." He Yuanchao didn't waste any words with him, grabbed his arm, and found the vein in the elbow crease.

The needle went in.

Payton grunted.

The medicine was pushed in.

"Alright." He Yuanchao pulled out the needle and casually tossed the syringe under the chair. "This thing might make you feel a little better, but it's not a long-term solution."

"You have to hold on."

He looked into Payton's eyes, and his gaze was complex.

There was scrutiny.

An assessment has been conducted.

There was even a hint of deeply hidden sympathy.

"I will find the antidote."

These words were meant for Payton, but He Yuanchao knew that Jill behind him had also heard them.

He stood up.

We arrived at the church entrance.

He used his hand to pry open the loose wooden board in the crack of the door and glanced outside.

it's getting dark.

The sky over Raccoon City turned from gray to dark purple, and the smoky twilight made the whole city look like a faded oil painting.

There were more zombies on the streets than during the day.

They become more active at dusk, as if the dimming light triggers some kind of nocturnal instinct.

He Yuanchao's system radar was running continuously, and all biological signals within a radius of 300 meters were being updated in his mind in real time.

The red dots are getting denser.

But it's still within a controllable range.

Just as he was about to retreat and continue resting.

A new signal suddenly appeared on the radar.

It's not red.

It's not green either.

It was a glaring, deep purple cursor.

That color, in the system's classification, represents—an extremely dangerous unknown creature.

It's a level higher than a Licker.

It appeared about four hundred meters northwest of the church.

and--

Moving.

Move this way.

high speed.

It's more than three or four times faster than a regular zombie.

He Yuanchao's pupils suddenly contracted.

The system popped up a warning box in his consciousness space.

High-threat targets are approaching.

Target identification – advanced T-virus variant.

Code name: Nemesis.

The original is believed to be a human male who underwent extensive biomodification and weapon implantation.

Carrying heavy weapons.

Hazard level S.

He Yuanchao's lips twitched.

coming.

That treacherous bastard Kane has finally unleashed his watchdog.

He Yuanchao quickly recalled the information he had retrieved from the system database in his mind.

Nemesis.

One of Umbrella Corporation's proudest biological weapons.

Simply put, it involves forcibly injecting a large amount of T-virus and parasitic control organisms into a living person, and then surgically implanting weapon systems and armor components to create a super soldier.

This thing's combat power far exceeds that of the Licker.

Its strength is ridiculously high, its skin is thick and it's practically indestructible, and also—

The most infuriating thing is—

It has a damn Gatling gun in its hand.

It's one of those six-barreled rotary machine guns that can fire thousands of bullets per minute.

In the apocalypse, this thing is practically a mobile death-reaping machine.

"Jill."

He Yuanchao's voice suddenly changed.

The tone shifted from that languid, laid-back style to the hard, unyielding feel of issuing orders on the battlefield.

Upon hearing the change, Jill immediately sprang to her feet.

"What's wrong?"

"There's big trouble." He Yuanchao pushed open the wooden board covering the door.

"It's very big."

"It's bigger than all the troubles you've ever seen combined."

On the street outside the door.

I can't see anything.

The light of dusk had dimmed to the point that it was impossible to see anything in the distance.

But that sound came through.

"Thump."

Heavy, rhythmic footsteps.

Each step made the ground vibrate slightly.

Those are not human footsteps.

Something extremely heavy is moving.

"What was that sound?" Payton was also startled awake and struggled to sit up.

No one answered him.

Because everyone's attention was drawn to the black silhouette that was gradually taking shape at the end of the street.

That thing is very tall.

At least 2.2 meters tall.

His shoulders were as broad as a wall.

Its shape in the twilight resembled a moving hill.

With each step, you could hear the sound of the asphalt being crushed beneath your feet.

then.

A beam of light from a streetlamp—a streetlamp whose power was unknown—just happened to sweep across the figure.

He Yuanchao saw it clearly.

Jill saw it clearly too.

It was a huge humanoid creature wearing a black leather suit.

It is described as humanoid only because it still maintains the posture of walking on two legs.

But everything else is no longer human.

Its face—if it could still be called a face—was covered in twisted scars and stitches, the crude surgical needles crawling like centipedes across half its cheek. One eye was grayish-white, completely devoid of a pupil. Its lips were everted, revealing black, metallic teeth beneath.

And its right hand.

Holding a six-barreled Gatling gun.

He carried those large, heavy machine guns, usually mounted on car roofs or helicopters, with one hand as if they were toys.

The gun barrel hadn't even started spinning yet.

But He Yuanchao could sense it.

That thing could spew out flames at any moment.

"STARS..."

A hoarse, almost raspy voice, seemingly coming from underground, was forced out of the monster's throat.

It is speaking.

Or rather, it is repeating the instruction implanted in the brain.

"STARS..."

It is looking for members of STARS.