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

Three days after training.

He Yuanchao felt it was time.

Simply poking holes in the target is not enough.

Those straw dolls won't lunge at you, won't open their mouths at your neck, and certainly won't emit that rotten smell that makes your stomach churn.

These people need to shed blood.

Real blood.

After breakfast, He Yuanchao convened a meeting with key personnel.

"I'm going out to get a call today."

He squatted down and drew a simple map on the sand with a twig—the location of the camp, the course of the river, and the zombie gathering points marked by the system's radar.

"About one and a half kilometers downstream in the valley, there is a group of zombies. There are about twenty of them, maybe a little more. They are wandering back and forth along the riverbank and haven't dispersed."

"If we don't clean them up, they'll eventually drift towards the camp."

Jill frowned as she looked at the simple diagram.

"Twenty. How many people do you plan to bring?"

"Eight. Divide into two four-person combat teams. I'll lead one team, and Alice will lead the other."

"Where should we choose?"

He Yuanchao pointed to several names—former policeman Jack, hunter Old Tom, convenience store owner Run, and bald firefighter Greg. Adding the group leader positions he and Alice would each lead, two more would be chosen from those who performed well in training.

"Those two high school students—Taylor and Marcus. They've made the most progress in these three days of training, and they're quite brave too."

Jill thought about it and didn't object.

"What about the arrangements for those who stay behind?"

"You and Payton guard the house. If anything goes wrong, follow the old rules—sound the alarm, everyone get into the cabin, lock the door and bolt it."

"Don't worry." Jill patted the gun at her waist.

An hour later.

Eight people gathered outside the camp gate.

He Yuanchao gave everyone's equipment a final check—hunting rifles, pistols, hunting knives, and first-aid kits. Ammunition was distributed properly, with each person carrying at least two magazines or twenty rounds of shotgun ammunition.

Listen carefully.

He stood in front of these eight people, his voice very low.

"This is not training."

"It's real combat."

"Every shot you fired today was a real bullet, and every target you faced was a real zombie. They won't stop just because you're scared, nor will they let you go just because you cry out."

"They will only tear you apart."

"so--"

"Aim carefully before you shoot. If you miss, run. Never stand still and do nothing."

"Those who can do it, come with me. Those who can't, go back now. No one will laugh at you."

Nobody moved.

Even Rune, the guy who almost accidentally injured his teammates, was holding onto his Winchester tightly, his palms sweaty but his eyes resolute.

He Yuanchao nodded.

"Walk."

The eight people proceeded downstream along the dirt road in the valley.

The formation wasn't a standard military formation—to be honest, it couldn't even be arranged properly. He Yuanchao walked at the very front, Alice at the very back, and the other six people were in a loose column in the middle.

It took about twenty minutes to walk.

He Yuanchao raised his fist—Stop.

Everyone immediately squatted down.

Although the movements were uneven, at least no one was just standing there idly.

These three days of training were not in vain.

He Yuanchao peered through the gaps in the bushes.

About eighty meters ahead.

On an open area on the riverbank.

Zombies.

There were more than he had estimated—not twenty, but twenty-five or twenty-six.

They wandered aimlessly on the riverbank, some squatting on the ground gnawing on some unknown thing, some standing in the shallow water swaying their bodies, and a few pushing each other—the kind of mindless collisions driven purely by instinct.

He Yuanchao silently counted them once.

Twenty-six.

Twenty-three of them were ordinary zombies—the standard type with grayish-white skin, rolled-back eyes, and slow movements.

There were also three that were noticeably larger than the others, with more robust muscles in their limbs and greater agility.

He Yuanchao's system scan gave the label "enhanced infected".

This thing is an upgraded version of a zombie produced by the T-virus fermenting in a host for a long time. It is at least twice as strong as a regular zombie and is also much faster.

It will be more difficult to fight than usual.

He Yuanchao wiped the sweat from the back of his hand, turned around, and whispered instructions on tactics.

"Listen carefully. Divide into two groups."

"First group: Me, Jack, Rune, Taylor. Go around the bushes on the left and take the high ground."

"Second group: Alice, Old Tom, Greg, Marcus. Go across the riverbank on the right to the row of dead trees."

"I'll lure the zombie horde over with noise first. They'll walk towards the sound. Once they reach the trap zone—the area with rubble and dead branches on the ground—their pace will slow down."

"That's the time to fire."

"Two groups of crossfire. Aim for the head. If you can't hit the head, hit the knees to take them down, then finish them off."

"Those three big ones are for Alice and me. Don't touch them."

Everyone nodded.

He Yuanchao pulled a small object out of his pocket—a flashbang.

It's not for fighting zombies.

It is used as a noise generator.

Although the sound of a flashbang explosion isn't loud, it travels very well in this open river valley.

"Everyone to your positions. I'll count to three and pull the fuse."

The two groups split up and acted separately.

He Yuanchao led the first group around to the high ground on the left—a slope two or three meters higher than the riverbank, covered with clumps of shrubs. From here, the view of the horde of zombies below was excellent.

Jack lay prone on the edge of the embankment, holding his Glock pistol, and took a breath.

Rune gripped the Winchester shotgun, his knuckles white, but this time his hand was much steadyer than before.

Taylor—the high school student—clutched a short-barreled shotgun he'd gotten from the armory, his face a mixture of tension and excitement.

He Yuanchao glanced at the person opposite him.

Alice is already in place.

He could see her blonde hair sway slightly behind the withered tree—a sign that she was "ready".

He Yuanchao pulled the safety pin on the flashbang.

"laugh--"

A wisp of white smoke rose from the fuse.

He threw the flashbang towards the middle of the riverbank.

one second.

two seconds.

"Bang!"

A flash of white light and an explosion simultaneously erupted amidst the horde of zombies.

The effect is immediate.

Those gray figures that had been wandering aimlessly all turned their heads and surged toward the explosion site.

Their pace changed from a slow sluggishness to a trot—a stiff, twisted trot—with arms outstretched, mouths open, emitting a chorus of roars.

They were like a pack of mad dogs that had smelled blood.

They rushed across the ground covered with pebbles and dead branches—their steps were indeed erratic. Several of them tripped and fell to the ground, still crawling forward.

"beat!"

He Yuanchao issued the order.

Gunshots rang out.

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

Jack's Glock fired first—two bursts, one hitting a zombie in the forehead, the other in the neck. The one hit in the forehead fell to the ground instantly, while the one hit in the neck staggered a couple of steps but was still moving.

Old Tom fired from across the way—his Remington hunting rifle was terrifyingly accurate at that distance. The crosshairs in the scope caught on a zombie's temple.

"Bang."

My head is spinning.

Greg's shotgun had the greatest firepower advantage at close range—he stood behind a dead tree and waited until the zombies were within ten meters before pulling the trigger.

"boom!"

One shot took down three.

Marcus—the high school student like Taylor—his hands were a little shaky, but he played fairly well, at least he didn't hit any of his own teammates.

He Yuanchao himself did not fire the shot.

He was observing.

Observe each person's shooting posture, psychological state, and reaction speed.

Rune hit him.

This time he didn't miss.

Winchester's shotgun hit a zombie's upper body at a distance of eight meters, smashing its shoulder and half of its face.

Although it wasn't hit in the head directly, the zombie fell to the ground and couldn't get up.

"Alright! Finish with a shot!" He Yuanchao shouted.

Run gritted his teeth, pulled back the bolt, ejected the spent cartridge, and chambered a round.

"Click—Boom!"

The second shot hit the zombie in the back of the head.

This time it stopped moving completely.

Rune's hands were still trembling, but the corners of his mouth turned up slightly—a complex smile of relief and "I did it."

The number of zombies is decreasing rapidly.

Crossfire is highly effective – gunfire erupts from both sides, and each volley takes down two or three enemies.

But the reactions of those three "enhanced" ones were completely different from the normal ones.

They scattered the moment the gunshot rang out—not rushing towards the source of the sound, but disappearing into the bushes on either side.

The speed is significantly faster.

"Two of those three big guys went over to your side!" He Yuanchao shouted in Alice's direction.

"I saw it!"

Alice stood up from behind the dead tree.

She tossed the shotgun to Greg beside her and drew her military knife from her waist.

The first enhanced zombie burst out of the bushes—so fast that even Taylor didn't have time to react.

Alice did not dodge.

She went to meet her.

A flash of light.

The zombie's thick right arm was cleanly severed at the elbow.

Black blood spurted out and splattered all over Alice.

Without stopping, she turned around and the tip of the knife sliced ​​into the zombie's nape from behind.

The enhanced muscle tissue was much harder than that of ordinary zombies, but it still couldn't withstand the cold iron dagger and military knife for long.

"Pfft—"

The blade severed the spine.

The zombie's body collapsed limply like a puppet with its strings cut.

The second one pounced right after.

Alice dodged its pounce by sidestepping, and then kicked it in the back of the knee—the force enhanced by the drug directly turned its knee into a reverse joint.

The zombie knelt down on the ground with a "plop".

Alice swung her knife backhand—splitting it into the top of its head.

Clean and neat.

The third one came towards He Yuanchao.

He Yuanchao finally raised the Desert Eagle in his hand.

"Bang!"

One shot.

His head is gone.

From the sound of the gunshot to the zombie falling to the ground—less than 0.3 seconds.

The battle is over.

The riverbank was littered with corpses and black blood.

All 26 zombies were eliminated.

He Yuanchao put down his gun and looked around.

None of the eight people were injured.

He walked to each of the zombie corpses and made everyone gather around to examine them.

"Look closely. These are their heads—once they're smashed, they're just a pile of rotten flesh, no different from you or me. They're not monsters, not demons—they're just corpses corrupted by a virus."

"If you can smash a watermelon, you can smash its head."

"Remember how you felt today."

"Because this is just the beginning."

He patted Rune on the shoulder—the guy who almost accidentally shot someone during the first search operation, but who killed a zombie with two shots today.

"good."

Two words.

Rune's eyes reddened.

It's not because I'm afraid.

It's because it's been recognized.

In the apocalypse, being recognized by a powerful figure is more precious than any medal.