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

Before dark, the campsite on the riverbank was barely formed.

It was called a camp, but it was really just a group of makeshift shacks made of branches and tent fabric. Four military tents stood in the middle, where the elderly, children, and wounded stayed. The rest of the people used cut pine branches to build a few triangular shelters, which were covered with aluminum alloy skins and canvas covers salvaged from helicopter wreckage—not exactly rainproof or windproof, but at least they provided most of the shelter.

A campfire was lit in the middle of the riverbank.

The old pastor wasn't exaggerating—he built a standard pyramid-shaped fire with dry wood and straw, and it was lit with just three matches. The moment the flames shot up, the people nearby all sighed in unison.

The sound was very soft, but it was heard very clearly in the valley shrouded in night.

It wasn't a sigh.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

Fire signifies warmth, light, and safety.

In this world teeming with monsters and darkness, a campfire is more valuable than a gun.

He Yuanchao sat on a rock beside the campfire, with a simple map drawn on the ground with a twig spread out in front of him.

He marked several points on the ground—the course of the river, the general outline of the mountains, and the locations of the nearest possible supply points from his memory (actually, from the system map).

Alice squatted opposite him, poking at the fire with a twig in her hand.

Jill sat beside her, holding the sleeping Angela in her arms.

Payton leaned against a tree, closed his eyes to rest, and his breathing was much more steady than during the day.

The others were scattered around the campfire and in the shacks; some were eating their military rations, while others had already lay down.

He Yuanchao counted—thirty-one people.

There were thirty-one when we left Raccoon City, and there are still thirty-one now.

Not one is missing.

He looked at the markings on the map twice, and then spoke.

"The situation isn't good, but it's not hopeless either."

Alice and Jill looked up at the same time.

"We're roughly in the Allegheny Mountains of Pennsylvania right now," He Yuanchao said, pointing to a marker on the ground with a twig. "About sixty kilometers to the east is a small town—not very big, just a few hundred houses. Forty kilometers to the south is an interstate highway."

"Has the town fallen?" Jill asked.

"Uncertain. But based on the rate of spread in Raccoon City, this area is far enough from the epicenter that the infection likely hadn't yet reached it before the nuclear bomb. After the nuclear bomb—the EMP will paralyze most communications and transportation, but it won't directly create zombies. So this area should still be relatively safe."

"It's safe for now," Alice added.

"Yes, for now." He Yuanchao did not deny it. "The T-virus can be transmitted through air, water, and animals. The nuclear bomb wiped out the zombies in Raccoon City, but it cannot guarantee that the virus has not spread to other places."

"So what's next?" Jill's voice carried the habitual questioning that comes with long-term command.

"Three steps."

He Yuanchao held up three fingers.

"First, set up camp. Right here. The riverbank is flat, close to water, and has slopes on both sides that can serve as natural barriers. It's not bad as a temporary outpost."

"Second, gather supplies. After dawn, I'll take a few men to the nearest town to assess the situation. Food, tools, medicine, weapons—bring as much as you can."

Third, long-term planning.

He paused for a moment.

The firelight cast flickering shadows on his face.

"We can't be homeless forever. People who are homeless die quickly in the apocalypse. We need a stable place, enough supplies, and a set of rules that will allow these people to survive."

"You want to build a shelter?" Alice said.

"Shelter-style shelters are too passive," He Yuanchao shook his head. "I want to build a base. A base where people can live, grow food, and defend."

Neither Jill nor Alice spoke immediately.

The campfire crackled and popped.

A few calls of unknown birds came from the distant mountains and forests; they sounded a bit like owls.

"What you're talking about—supplies, food, fortifications—requires a lot of manpower and time," Jill said. "We only have thirty-one men, half of whom can't even fire a gun."

"That's why they need to be trained."

He Yuanchao's gaze swept over the figures sitting or lying around the campfire.

The convenience store owners huddled together, talking in hushed tones. Two high school students huddled in a shack, one of them already snoring. The bald firefighter was sharpening the blade of his fire axe with a stone. Old Tom—the hunter—was whittling something with a branch beside the fire, probably a trap trigger.

"These people aren't useless. They just haven't adapted yet," He Yuanchao said.

"Give them two days to eat well and get enough sleep. Then start training."

"What kind of training?"

"The skill of survival."