069. Holding Up the Heavens with One Hand—2

Chen Chong knew the riverbank could not be held. Though he was a second-generation official, he was not truly stupid, and he felt as if he might grind his teeth to dust. He realized that calling for the people at the bridgehead to rush over would take too long, and besides, there was enemy activity there as well—they could not just abandon their post. The problem was that he was just a young socialite, far more skilled at chasing women than dealing with zombies. What could he possibly do?

Should he try to maneuver through the woods with these civilians while firing? With this rabble? It would be more reliable to retreat to the open ground outside the woods and continue picking them off. But if he did that, once the zombie horde passed through the woods and left the lowlands, they would start to scatter. If their firepower couldn't keep up, the peninsula settlement would become a paradise for the undead.

Wait for Wang Chen? He was just one man! What good would a single gun do? Wielding twin battle-axes? Don't be ridiculous—did he think he was Li Kui reborn or Zhang Yide at Changban Bridge? Was he going to roar twice and have the zombies line up to offer their heads? Unable to think of a way to turn the tide, Chen Chong could only scramble to reload his magazines, trying to buy time. He wanted to save face, but he wasn't crazy enough to engage zombies in hand-to-hand combat.

Seeing the zombie horde approaching within thirty meters, the thick, nauseating stench of rot filled the air. The civilians beside him even stopped reloading; one by one, they began to shuffle backward. Only fear of Chen Chong's threats kept them from turning and running. Chen Chong, however foolish he was, knew that executing deserters only worked once. If he tried it again, he wouldn't need to wait for Wang Chen; the zombies would be the ones cleaning up his corpse.

Just as Chen Chong was at his wit's end and preparing to retreat into the woods, a voice, breathless but calm, rang out from behind them: "Everyone, fall back outside the woods. I don't care what methods you use, but any zombie that makes it out of the woods must be dealt with. You must hold out until Ma Tian arrives with reinforcements!"

Wang Chen had arrived.

He did not ask where Cui Yongzhi was. The corpse lying by the edge of the woods with its backside facing the reservoir, along with the discarded walkie-talkie nearby, was explanation enough. Wang Chen repeated his order to ensure Chen Chong and the others understood, then began stripping off his gear—including his tactical vest and his modified Type 95 rifle—tossing them to Chen Chong. He kept only his NP22 pistol, three magazines, and two bayonets. He then turned his back to the woods, faced the slowly approaching horde, and planted his feet firmly.

Steady as a mountain.

"Damn it! I'm no coward either!" Chen Chong made a move to hand the weapons back to the civilians, wanting to stay and fight alongside Wang Chen, but Wang Chen cut him off with a single sentence: "I need you to watch them and handle any zombies that break through the woods. Remember, lie prone on the high ground of the embankment and shoot down. Don't fire into the woods; I don't want to be killed by a stray bullet."

Knowing this was a matter of life and death and no time for vanity, Chen Chong stopped arguing and turned to leave, though a thought he refused to admit even to himself flickered in his mind: *You're a badass. I give up.*

Ignoring the noise caused by Chen Chong and the six others rushing into the woods, Wang Chen took several deep breaths. The air was thick with damp mist and an increasingly pungent stench of decay. He slowly turned his head, loosening his joints while scanning the ground, memorizing the obstacles around him. He felt his heart rate and breathing, rapid from his sprint, gradually stabilize. He paid almost no attention to the zombies now less than twenty meters away.

Seven or eight zombies were lucky enough to have gathered around Cui Yongzhi’s corpse, beginning to tear at it. The poor Deputy County Magistrate—less than five minutes after his death, there was nothing left of him. The wafting scent of blood and raw viscera stimulated the rest of the horde; their pace quickened.

Ten meters.
Five meters.

Wang Chen could now see every detail of the zombies in the front line. One had half its jaw torn away by a bullet, leaving its tongue dangling, yet the zombie, having lost its ability to chew, remained unchanged. Those lifeless, dead eyes, the stiff, twisted arms reaching forward, and the withered bodies all manifested a simple, primal desire.

Meat! Flesh! Living, breathing flesh!

Draw, level, fire!

The NP22 held fifteen rounds. The stopping power of 9mm ammunition was well-known. For someone like Wang Chen, who had undergone intensive training, rapid-fire shots within five meters were as easy as shooting at a stationary target. After fifteen rounds, a clear space was carved out around him. The gunfire also drew the zombies that had begun to scatter back toward him.

Slide back, drop magazine, insert magazine, chamber round—the motions were seamless. Wang Chen continued to fire at the encroaching horde while slowly retreating, disappearing into the woods where the foliage was a mix of yellow and green, far from dense.

With the second magazine empty, Wang Chen leaned against a tree and holstered the NP22. The final magazine had to be saved for the critical moment—either to blast a path to survival or to keep one bullet for himself.

He crouched slightly, drew the Type 56 bayonets from his thighs, crossed his hands, and looped the safety straps around his wrists. Wang Chen took another deep breath.

*Come on! Whether I live or die, it all comes down to today!*

The sudden disappearance of the living flesh left the zombies at the edge of the woods confused. Their rotting brains could not comprehend what had happened. Pushed forward by the horde behind them, they drifted into the woods. The female zombie in the lead was still swaying her head when a flash of silver suddenly darted into her eye socket! The silver light withdrew, pulling out a spray of foul, black-gray gore. The last shred of desire in the female zombie vanished with the blade; she slumped to the ground, motionless.

The sharpness of the Type 56 bayonet exceeded Wang Chen’s expectations. Piercing a skull required force, but driving it into a face—whether through an eye socket or a nasal cavity—was surprisingly easy, slicing through like a hot knife through butter. This was a welcome surprise. Using the trees for cover and keeping a constant eye on the terrain, he moved quickly. Every time he approached a zombie, he struck and withdrew. Even if he missed a vital spot and the zombie kept moving, he didn't waste time finishing it; he simply moved on to find another opportunity.

The muddy ground provided some hindrance, causing many zombies to stumble, trip, or even impale themselves on branches, rendering them immobile. However, few were killed instantly, so Wang Chen had to keep moving, using his bayonets to methodically pierce the skulls of these creatures.