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

The town is called Songgu Town.

Calling it a "town" is a bit of an exaggeration; at most, it's a community consisting of a main street, two side streets, a few dozen scattered residential buildings, and some commercial shops.

It took He Yuanchao and the other three about an hour and a half to arrive.

The road is difficult to travel.

There was no proper road between the camp and the town, only a dirt path covered with fallen leaves and gravel winding through the mountains and forests, making it difficult to walk without sinking into the mud. Fortunately, old Tom knew the terrain very well; he had been hunting in these mountains for forty years, and he knew every path and every bend like the back of his hand.

"We'll be there after that fork in the road," Old Tom said, pointing ahead with his homemade walking stick.

He Yuanchao stopped and scanned the area with the system radar.

Within a radius of 500 meters—

Three red dots.

It is located on the east side of the main street, near a building that looks like a church.

Three zombies.

Not many.

He Yuanchao breathed a sigh of relief.

His earlier assessment was correct—this town was far enough from Raccoon City that the T-virus hadn't spread extensively here yet. Those three zombies were most likely stragglers who had wandered over from the nearby highway; they posed no real threat.

"There are three rotten corpses ahead. They're about 300 meters away, near the church," He Yuanchao said in a low voice.

"Three shots will do." Jack tugged at the Glock slide in his hand. "I'll go first, Old Tom will go second, and you—" He pointed to the convenience store owner, "go third. Don't shoot if you're not sure, let me handle it."

The convenience store owner's name was Rune. He was in his early thirties, of medium build, and used to run a small general store in Raccoon City. The shotgun he was carrying was a Winchester short-barreled rifle he had picked up from a gun shop, with about a dozen bullets left.

Rune's palms were sweating with nervousness, but he nodded.

"Advisor He, and what about you?" Jack asked.

He Yuanchao patted the Desert Eagle at his waist: "I'll cover the rear. If you can't finish them off, I'll finish them off."

The four of them slowly approached the edge of the woods.

The town's main street came into view.

Just as He Yuanchao had expected—a narrow asphalt road lined with low-rise shops and houses. There was some trash and scraps of paper scattered on the road, but no overturned cars or shell casings, indicating that no large-scale panic evacuation had occurred here.

The windows of several houses were still open, and the curtains were fluttering slightly in the wind.

It's like the owner has gone out to buy groceries and will be back in a little while.

But they won't be coming back.

The three zombies were indeed near the church.

Two stood on the steps, and one crouched in the flowerbed by the roadside. Their movements were very slow—the kind of "standby mode" that zombies have when they have no target. They shook their heads and occasionally let out a low groan.

He Yuanchao made a gesture—spread out and surround from three sides.

Jack circled around to the side of the church from the left. Old Tom crept along a row of low wooden fences to behind the flowerbed. Rune stood in the middle of the main street, holding a shotgun, the muzzle pointed at the nearest one, his hand trembling but not lowering it.

He Yuanchao stood at the very back; the Desert Eagle had been pulled out, but he hadn't raised it.

He did not intend to fire.

This was a "training" session.

He needs these people to learn how to kill zombies themselves, instead of relying on him to clear the area every time.

"Ready—" Jack's voice came from the side.

"beat."

"Bang!" "Bang!" "Boom!"

The three gunshots rang out almost simultaneously.

Jack's Glock shot hit the zombie's head on the steps—his basic shooting training paid off; the nine-millimeter bullet, though small, was enough to penetrate the skull at this distance.

The zombie had a piece broken off the back of its head, and it fell backward and rolled down the steps.

Old Tom's shot hit the one in the flower bed. The shotgun's bullet had a wide coverage area at a distance of five meters, blasting half of the crouching zombie's shoulder and neck apart. But because it didn't hit the head directly, the zombie fell down but was still writhing on the ground.

Rune's shot—

Missed.

Gunshots echoed through Winchester, but the shot only grazed the arm of the third zombie, tearing off a small piece of flesh.

Enraged by the gunshot, the zombie turned and lunged towards Rune.

"Holy crap!" Rune was so startled that he took two steps back and frantically tried to load the shotgun.

But Winchester was clearly not very skilled at cocking the gun—he pulled it twice but couldn't get it to move because he forgot to eject the empty cartridge case first.

The zombie had already rushed within five meters.

"Runn! Crouch down!"

"Bang!"

He Yuanchao's Desert Eagle roared.

It was a sound completely different from Glocks and shotguns—deep, heavy, like a hammer striking an anvil.

The large-caliber magnum round struck the zombie's face at a distance of less than ten meters—to be precise, it entered through the left cheekbone and exited from the back of the head. The entire head felt like it had been stuffed with an explosive charge from the inside, instantly exploding into fragments.

Black blood splattered all over Rune.

Rune stared blankly at the headless corpse on the ground, nearly dropping his shotgun.

"How—how did you hit so accurately?" he stammered.

He Yuanchao put away the Desert Eagle and went over to look at the one that was still wriggling over Old Tom's side.

He pulled out his hunting knife and plunged it into the back of its head.

"Pfft."

It stopped moving.

"You made two mistakes just now." He Yuanchao pulled out his knife and wiped it on the zombie's clothes twice, then pointed it at Rune's shotgun.

"First, your hand is shaking when you shoot. Your hand is shaking because you are afraid. It's normal to be afraid, but you must learn to keep your hand steady when you are afraid. The method is simple - take a deep breath before shooting, and pull the trigger when you exhale."

"Secondly, you're not familiar with your gun. Loading, ejecting the spent cartridge, aiming, and firing—these four actions must become muscle memory. Go back and practice them a hundred times every day until you can operate them with your eyes closed."

Run swallowed hard and nodded vigorously.

"Understood, Consultant He. I'll practice as soon as I get back."

Jack walked over, glanced at the three corpses on the ground, and whistled.

"What model is your pistol? It's incredibly powerful."

"Desert Eagle." He Yuanchao ejected the magazine and checked the remaining ammunition. ".50 caliber. It's a bit of an overkill for fighting zombies, but its advantage is that it can kill them with one shot and doesn't need to finish them off."

"Where did you get this?"

"These are from my old collection." He Yuanchao pushed the magazine back. "Alright, stop chatting. Let's start the search. Split into two groups. Rune and I will go to the right side of the main street, and you and Old Tom will go to the left. Key targets—hardware stores, pharmacies, supermarkets, and gun shops. Take whatever else you can find, but prioritize food and tools."

"How much are you moving?"

"We'll move as much as we can. There are four of us on two legs; we'll carry as much as we can. We'll arrange for someone to come a second time when we get back."

The four people split up and acted separately.

He Yuanchao took Lu Enxian to the hardware store.

The hardware store door was unlocked—the people in this small town are probably used to leaving their doors unlocked, and they didn't change this habit even when the world ended.

The shelves inside were neatly arranged with goods.

Hammers, pliers, wrenches, screwdrivers—all kinds of hand tools are available.

He Yuanchao's gaze swept quickly across the shelves, then locked onto a few items.

Wire mesh roll.

Three volumes.

Each roll is approximately fifty meters long.

This stuff is a hard currency in camp construction—fortification of fences, setting up of traps, and protection of warehouses—all of these require barbed wire.

"move."

Rune carried a roll of it and almost strained his back.

"This thing is so heavy."

"One roll weighs about thirty kilograms. You carry one roll, and I'll carry two rolls."

Rune stared wide-eyed as He Yuanchao casually slung two rolls of barbed wire over his shoulder with one hand, walking with a more steady gait than if he were empty-handed.

Is this person even human?

In addition to the barbed wire, He Yuanchao also picked out a small gasoline generator (which required two people to carry), a box of nails, several steel pipes, two axes, a large woodworking saw, and half a bag of cement that he found in a corner.

He gathered these items at the entrance of the hardware store.

Then I went to the pharmacy next door.

The pharmacy door was locked.

He Yuanchao kicked it away.

Most of the medicines inside were still there. The shelves were neatly arranged—antibiotics, painkillers, fever reducers, bandages, medicated alcohol, and iodine.

The freezer in the corner was still humming—the town's power hadn't been cut off yet. Inside were some injectable medications and insulin that needed to be refrigerated.

He Yuanchao packed all the medicines he could carry into his backpack.

What couldn't fit in the backpack was put into a toolbox that I'd taken from a hardware store.

Then there's the supermarket.

The supermarket was in the best condition—the goods on the shelves were almost completely intact. The canned food section, the bottled water section, and the dry food section were all well-stocked.

As He Yuanchao loaded things into the cart, he silently calculated in his mind.

Thirty-one people.

Based on the minimum standard of 1,500 calories per person per day—

Each military ration pack contains approximately 1,200 calories, and the current stock is enough to last four or five days.

If you add the canned food and dry rations from the supermarket, it should last at least two weeks.

What about two weeks later?

They rely on farming.

The packet of "improved seeds" in his pocket was key.

However, it takes time for seeds to grow from sowing to harvest—even the accelerated version produced by the system takes at least fifteen days.

In other words, these two weeks are a "transition period".

During this transition period, he needed to bring back all the food he could find, while also cultivating farmland, training personnel, and fortifying the camp.

Time is very tight.

But it's enough.

Across the street, Jack and Old Tom also made a purchase.

They found the gun shop.

The gun shop was locked—the only shop in town that was locked. But old Tom had a way—he poked a thin wire into the keyhole for less than ten seconds, and the lock popped open.

The inventory inside was more abundant than He Yuanchao had anticipated.

Six different types of hunting rifles—some shotguns, some rifles. Two Glock pistols. One 12-gauge tactical shotgun. Several hunting knives. Two crossbows.

There was even more ammunition—it took up an entire wall. Bullets of various calibers were neatly stacked in cardboard boxes.

Old Tom touched the ammunition boxes, his eyes gleaming.

"That's enough for me to play for ten years."

Jack picked out a Remington hunting rifle with a scope, pulled the bolt to test the feel, and nodded in satisfaction.

The search lasted approximately two hours.

The four of them gathered everything they could carry in the center of the main street.

The supplies were piled up into a small mountain.

He Yuanchao frowned as he looked at the pile of things.

There's too much stuff.

It would take at least three trips for four people to carry it back on foot.

But he didn't want to stay here any longer.

Gunfire and activity will attract more zombies. Although there are only three in town now (which have been dealt with), who knows how many are still lurking in the surrounding mountains and forests.

"For the first trip, bring food and medicine," He Yuanchao decided. "We'll get the guns, ammunition, and tools on the second trip. Lock the door and mark it."

"Aren't you afraid someone else will take it?" Rune asked.

He Yuanchao glanced at him.

"We're probably the only living people within a 60-kilometer radius. Who do you think would come to take it?"

Rune thought about it and agreed.

The four of them each carried a large bag and a box of supplies, and started walking back.

The return journey was much slower than the way there—each person carried thirty or forty kilograms of stuff on their back, and walking on that bumpy dirt road, their knees and ankles bore a huge burden.

He Yuanchao walked at the very front.

His load was the heaviest—at least fifty kilograms or more—yet his pace remained steady. His genetically enhanced physique allowed him to thrive in this kind of heavy-load march, even having the energy to observe his surroundings and help those lagging behind.

"Run, loosen the straps a bit, don't squeeze your lungs."

"Jack, don't hang the water bottle on the right; it's getting in the way of the shooter. Move it to the left."

"Old Tom—don't walk so fast, your knees can't take it."

He Yuanchao's command style wasn't the kind that involved shouting orders.

His voice was never loud, but every word he said hit the nail on the head.

This meticulous attention gave all three of them a strange sense of security—following this person, it seemed that no difficulty was insurmountable.

An hour and a half later.

The camp's barbed wire fence came into view.

Greg and his men have already done a lot of work—the fence has been raised, a wooden roadblock has been added at the main gate, and two more shacks have been built inside the camp.

He Yuanchao entered the room and put the supplies on his back on the ground.

With a "whoosh".

Everyone in the camp gathered around.

Their eyes lit up when they saw the pile of canned goods, biscuits, bottled water, and medicine.

When the young mother saw the baby formula, she almost burst into tears on the spot.

The old pastor picked up a box of bandages, his hands trembling.

He Yuanchao stood beside the pile of supplies, watching the group's reaction.

He didn't have any particular feelings.

In the world of "Bright Sword," he had seen troops that were even poorer and people who had endured even more hardship.

But he knew one thing—

With supplies in place, people's hearts are at ease.

With hope, people will not drift apart.

What he has to do is to keep providing these two things.