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

The pickup truck's headlights cut through the night, illuminating the crooked iron gate at the entrance of Ravana Elementary School.

The iron gate was unlocked.

To be precise, the lock was still on, but the door frame had been bent by something from the outside, leaving a gap just big enough for an adult to squeeze through sideways.

He Yuanchao turned off the car engine, but didn't turn off the headlights.

Two beams of light shone on the front of the school's main building—a three-story red brick building with colorful cartoon drawings on the exterior walls depicting a group of children holding hands and laughing in the sunlight.

Now, most of the paintings are covered in blood and mud, and the remaining parts look particularly ironic in the night wind.

"Is this it?" Jill pulled the Beretta out of its holster and checked the chamber.

"This is the school Dr. Ashford was referring to." He Yuanchao got out of the car, a shotgun in his hand, muzzle pointing downwards. "His daughter, Angela, is inside."

Payton struggled to sit up in the back seat, his complexion even worse than two hours earlier. The sallow complexion was turning ashen, his lips were purple, and his eyes were dark-rimmed as if he had been punched twice.

"I'll go too."

"You stay in the car." He Yuanchao said without turning his head.

"I can still—"

"Your legs are almost giving way; going in will only slow us down." He Yuanchao's tone left no room for negotiation. "Guard the car. If anything gets close, honk the horn."

Payton opened his mouth, but ultimately said nothing and leaned back in his seat.

He Yuanchao and Jill exchanged a glance.

Without saying much, the two squeezed through the gap in the iron gate.

The colorful synthetic running track on the school grounds was now covered with a thick layer of mud and fallen leaves. Several trash cans lay overturned on the playground, with scraps of paper and food wrappers scattered everywhere by the wind.

Slides, swings, seesaws—the equipment that should be filled with children's laughter—now cast distorted shadows under the moonlight, like a group of monsters crouching in the dark.

He Yuanchao's system radar is already at full power.

All life signals within a 100-meter radius were clearly marked on the mini map in his mind.

There is only one green cursor.

In a room on the east side of the second floor of the main building.

That must be Angela.

There are five red cursors.

They were all concentrated in the corridor on the first floor of the main building.

and--

They are moving.

soon.

It doesn't move in the sluggish way that zombies do.

It's the kind that runs fast with all four legs on the ground, close to the ground.

"Dog." He Yuanchao lowered his voice.

Jill tensed slightly: "How many?"

"Five. First floor corridor."

How did you know?

"Can't you hear me?"

Jill listened intently.

really.

From the open doors of the main building, a low, persistent panting sound could be faintly heard. The sound didn't seem like something a human could make—it was more like the rapid breathing of a large canine after exercise, but it was hoarser and wetter than a normal dog's bark, as if its throat was filled with half a tube of blood.

He Yuanchao walked to the entrance of the main building.

The door was a sliding door made of sheet metal, and it had already been pushed open halfway.

There were several deep claw marks on the edge of the door frame, which had chipped the sheet metal.

"How big must a claw be to leave these marks on sheet metal?" Jill frowned as she looked at the marks.

He Yuanchao did not respond.

He released the safety from his shotgun and then slowly and very carefully pushed open the metal door.

"Squeak—"

The door hinge made a piercing noise.

In the dead of night, this sound was even more piercing than a gunshot.

The panting in the corridor suddenly stopped.

A dead silence.

He Yuanchao and Jill stopped moving at the same time.

Both of them held their breath as still as possible.

three seconds.

Five seconds.

Eight seconds.

Then--

"Click-click-click—"

The sound of sharp claws striking the tiled floor suddenly rang out.

Dense and rapid.

Not just one.

It's a group.

They are coming.

He Yuanchao's dynamic vision instantly turned on to maximum power.

In the thick darkness deep within the corridor, five short figures rushed toward the door with terrifying speed.

They were about the size of German Shepherds, but all their fur and skin had fallen off. Exposed were bright red muscle fibers, shimmering eerily wet under the dim red emergency lights. Their eyes were white—a deathly white without pupils, like two glass beads embedded in a skull.

Its mouth was open, revealing jagged, virus-enhanced sharp teeth that looked like serrated edges.

Black saliva dripped down his chin in long strands.

Zombie dogs.

He Yuanchao had met him.

I saw this thing in the hive last time.

But at that time it was in a closed corridor, and there were only a few of them—just two or three.

There are five now.

Moreover, it was in this semi-open space.

They are faster now.

The one at the front had already run out of the corridor, leaped over the twenty-centimeter step on the threshold, and the instant its front paws left the ground, its entire body stretched out in the air—

It was like a red bullet that was fired.

"Bang!"

He Yuanchao's shotgun roared.

The 12-gauge shotgun shells exploded at a distance of less than five meters, with dozens of steel balls covering the area like an iron curtain.

The zombie dog that was leaping through the air was shot and tumbled in mid-air. Its head and right forelimb instantly turned into minced meat, and its body remains, like a bag of rotten flesh being thrown out, landed heavily at He Yuanchao's feet with a "thud".

Black blood splattered all over his trouser leg.

"Click."

The pump chambered the cartridge. The empty cartridge case flew out and rolled twice on the ground.

The second one arrived right after.

This one was smarter; instead of attacking head-on, it charged along the wall in a low posture, targeting He Yuanchao's calves—it wanted to bite off his legs first to disable him.

"Bang!"

He Yuanchao fired his second shot almost skimming the ground, the muzzle pressed extremely low. The shot grazed the floor, kicking up fragments of tile and blood.

The dog's lower body was smashed, and its intestines were hanging all over the ground.

But its upper body was still moving.

It continued to frantically crawl forward, clawing at the ground with its front paws, emitting frantic roars and grinding its teeth.

He Yuanchao stepped on it.

"Splat."

solve.

"Jill! Over there!"

He Yuanchao called out.

Jill had already made her move.

Her shooting posture was textbook perfect—both hands holding the gun, knees slightly bent, body weight low—Beretta's gun muzzle drew a precise fan shape at the entrance of the corridor.

"Bang! Bang!"

Two nine-millimeter bullets pierced the eye sockets of the third zombie dog with precision.

Although the stopping power of a 9mm bullet is not great, it is enough to penetrate the skull when it hits the eye socket, which has no bone protection.

The dog's front legs buckled, and its entire body slid several meters away before coming to a stop, twitching and motionless.

"There are two more!" He Yuanchao reminded them.

A fourth one darted out from a classroom on the right side of the corridor—it took a detour.

Although these zombie dogs aren't very bright, their remaining canine instincts allow them to flank.

This one lunged directly at Jill's side.

Jill reacted quickly, leaning back as the saliva-covered mouth swept past her nose less than two inches away, the pungent, hot breath hitting her face.

"Go to hell!"

Jill pulled the trigger while dodging.

"Bang!"

The bullet pierced the dog's jaw from below and flew out over its head. Black blood sprayed all over her.

Pretty.

He Yuanchao mentally gave her a score—at least eight out of ten.

The last one.

The fifth zombie dog did not charge.

It crouched about fifteen meters deep in the corridor, its white eyes fixed on the two humans at the door.

It hesitated.

The death of its companion triggered a primal warning signal in its virus-ravaged brain—these two prey were not to be trifled with.

"There's one more. Fifteen meters. It's crouching and hasn't moved," He Yuanchao said in a low voice.

"I saw it." Jill's gun was already pointed in that direction, but at this distance, the light in the corridor was too poor, and she could only see a blurry outline.

He Yuanchao took two steps forward, holding a shotgun.

His feet crunched on the tiles, which were covered in broken glass and black blood.

The crouching zombie dog let out a low, threatening growl.

His mouth opened even wider.

Saliva dripped down like beads from a broken string.

He Yuanchao ignored the warning.

He continued walking forward.

Twelve meters.

ten meters.

eight meters.

The dog's hind legs started to tense up.

It is gathering strength.

Prepare for one last gamble.

He Yuanchao was also waiting.

Wait for it to jump.

Because it can't change direction in the air, it's a hundred times easier to fight than it is to dart around nimbly on the ground.

"Come on." He Yuanchao's lips curled into a smile.

The zombie dog seemed to understand his provocation.

It stomped its foot on the ground!

The muscles in his hind legs seemed to ignite, unleashing astonishing explosive force. His entire body flew straight toward He Yuanchao's face like a bright red cannonball.

Extremely fast.

The razor-sharp claws on its paws drew several streaks of cold light in the air.

This was exactly what He Yuanchao had been waiting for.

Instead of retreating, he advanced.

He leaned forward, raising the shotgun muzzle almost to the point of attacking that gaping mouth.

"Bang!"

Zero distance.

The effect of this shot was no different from that of a miniature bomb.

The zombie dog's entire head and forequarters were instantly blasted into pieces. Flesh, bone fragments, and black blood scattered like exploding fireworks.

He Yuanchao stepped aside to let the headless body pass.

The thing fell to the ground behind him with a thud, slid a long way, and left a long trail of blood on the corridor tiles.

Five.

All resolved.

He Yuanchao blew on the muzzle of his gun—there wasn't much smoke, but this action had become a habit for him.

"Let's go. Second floor."

Jill followed.

She stepped over the scattered dog carcasses and bits of flesh, her face pale, but her steps remained steady.

The two people walked up the stairs to the second floor.

The stairwell is narrow, only wide enough for two people to walk side by side.

The emergency light flashed twice overhead and then went out.

"Smack."

He Yuanchao turned on the tactical flashlight on the shotgun.

A beam of white light cleaved through the darkness of the stairwell.

The beam of light shone onto the wall.

There was a large giraffe drawn on it, and next to it, in crooked handwriting, it said—"The kids in Class 3, Grade 2 are the best!"

He Yuanchao paused for a moment.

Then we continued upwards.

The second-floor corridor was quieter than the first-floor corridor.

There was no panting like a zombie dog, nor the sound of claws scraping the floor.

The only sound was the wind blowing in through a crack in one of the windows, a mournful wail, like someone crying.

The green cursor on the system map is in the third classroom ahead.

He Yuanchao walked to the door.

The door was closed.

A handwritten sign hung above it—"Principal's Office".

He Yuanchao tried the doorknob.

Locked.

He knocked on the door twice.

"Angela?"

no respond.

He knocked twice more, this time making a softer sound.

"Angela Ashford? Your father sent me to pick you up."

There was a few seconds of silence.

Then, a very faint, tearful voice came from behind the door.

"Who...who are you?"

He Yuanchao breathed a sigh of relief.

Live.

"I'm a good man." He crouched down, bringing his mouth close to the crack in the door. "Your father said on the loudspeaker that you're in this school. He asked me to come and take you home."

"My dad...?"

The sound grew closer, like a little girl climbing to the door.

Can you prove it?

He Yuanchao smiled.

This little girl, even in this kind of environment, still knows to ask for evidence; she's quite clear-headed.

"Your father's name is Charles Ashford. He's a scientist. Your name is Angela. You used to have leg problems and used a wheelchair. Then your father invented a medicine that allowed you to walk."

There was silence behind the door for two seconds.

Then came the sound of the latch being pried open.

"Click."

The door opened a crack.

A small face peeked out from under the door.

Her large eyes were red and swollen from fear and crying. Her golden hair was plastered messily to her forehead. She wore a wrinkled school uniform, covered in dust and dried tear stains.

She was also clutching a dirty teddy bear in her hand.

He Yuanchao squatted there, placed the shotgun on the ground, and tried his best to make himself look less frightening.

For a little girl who has been hiding alone in the apocalypse for who knows how long, a strange man covered in blood and carrying a gun is probably more terrifying than the zombies outside.

"Don't be afraid."

He Yuanchao took a piece of candy out of his pocket.

He casually took it from the system space—the same brand he used to show off in the Hive before, strawberry flavored, "Dragon Tooth Special Supply".

He placed the candy on the ground in front of the door crack.

"Uncle isn't a bad person. Uncle is here to take you home."

Angela looked at the candy.

I watched it for a long time.

Then she reached out the hand that wasn't holding the teddy bear and carefully picked up the candy.

"Thank you, Uncle."

The sound was very soft.

But He Yuanchao heard every single word clearly.

He stood up and nodded to Jill.

"Found it. Let's go."