065 Establishing Authority and a New Home - 1

Golden mist swirled, and splatters of blood bloomed like flowers in the air. The thick winter fog blurred the golden rays of the rising sun, creating a dreamlike, ethereal beauty reminiscent of dry ice scattered across a stage under a spotlight. In this golden-white haze, the leaping blood drops seemed to take on a life of their own, dancing in rhythm with the sweeping arc of a fire axe, painting a crimson yet brutal portrait.

To an observer, Wang Chen’s movements were simple, rhythmic, and fluid. His steps were so light he seemed weightless, navigating the dangerous swarm of zombies like a nimble fish darting through a cluster of stinging jellyfish. He dodged the stiff, grasping arms of the undead with effortless grace; every slide placed him in a blind spot, every evasion guided a zombie’s head directly beneath his blade, and every swing birthed a new, bloody bloom.

Most unbelievable was his demeanor. Facing these grotesque, decaying corpses—whose breath could choke small animals, and whose ravenous maws hungered for flesh—Wang Chen displayed no twisted, smiling mask of insanity, nor did he furrow his brow or grit his teeth in tension. He remained entirely impassive, as if the man who had just cleaved through dozens of skulls were someone else entirely.

In just five minutes, Wang Chen had used his fire axe, agile footwork, and precise technique to single-handedly dispatch nearly forty zombies.

Even though the zombies were dispatched in a staggered stream rather than a single rush, when the group by the Iveco watched Wang Chen turn toward them—drenched in gore and carrying a dripping axe—they all shivered in unison. Some even leaned against the wheels, retching.

It was simply too bloody.

"That, right there, is the real deal," Shu Chang whispered, a hint of fanaticism flashing in his eyes.

Chen Chong was speechless. Cui Yongzhi stared in open-mouthed shock. It turned out Fang Qiang hadn’t been bragging; he had been modest.

With Sheng Qingru’s help, Wang Chen wiped away the blood and viscera. Pablo took over the mopping up. The South American’s performance once again stunned the civilians who had disembarked from the Iveco. Pablo lacked formal training and knew nothing of standard tactical maneuvers; his marksmanship was entirely self-taught. To be fair, when prone and aiming at a target within two hundred meters, his accuracy was decent—like the time he shot Li Baozhu’s hydrogen balloon, hitting four out of five shots. At greater distances, however, lacking knowledge of windage, bullet drop, and ballistics, Pablo had to rely on luck.

But when it came to engaging zombies at close range—within thirty to fifty meters—Pablo was a different beast. This was his element. He held his Type 03 rifle casually against his hip, right hand on the grip with his finger on the trigger, left hand supporting the handguard with the muzzle tilted slightly upward. He didn’t bother with sights or a cheek weld; he simply pulled the trigger.

The gunfire lacked a steady rhythm, appearing almost careless, yet with every report, a zombie toppled backward.

After thirty rounds, only a few stragglers remained. Pablo drew his NP22 and finished them off with a few casual shots. The phrase "without breaking a sweat" echoed through Cui Yongzhi’s mind.

Glancing at the shell-shocked civilians, Wang Chen was satisfied with the impact of his display. He turned to scan the perimeter, using the movement to mask his heavy breathing. The gunfire had not attracted more zombies; it seemed the local stragglers had been cleared.

The next phase was more dangerous: a dozen houses and warehouses had to be searched individually. Having seen Wang Chen and Pablo in action, the able-bodied men from the Iveco were too embarrassed to stand idle. Wang Chen led a group of volunteers armed with handguns to clear the houses, while Pablo led the rest to patrol the peninsula, rooting out any stragglers. The two leaders had been so impressive that the men followed their commands without a word of complaint. The work proceeded methodically, and in less than two hours, the peninsula base was completely secured. The situation was better than expected.

The outbreak had been sudden, and the peninsula's inhabitants had perished quickly. Those who survived had left in a panic, or there had been no survivors at all, leaving most daily necessities and supplies intact. Local farmers had typically stocked up on rice, dried vegetables, and cured meats before winter, and the combined stores of over a dozen households were enough to sustain a hundred people for several months. Moreover, after several adjustments by Shen Dongyun, the power lines from the hydroelectric station were running again. The return of electricity left the civilians ecstatic; it was, after all, a cornerstone of civilization.

While the power was being restored, the civilians began moving into their new homes on the peninsula. Fang Qiang took the time to reinforce the suspension bridge at the hydro plant, removing the decking on the substation side to ensure no one—or nothing—could cross. As planned, four men and two women were stationed at the hydro plant to maintain operations under Shen Dongyun’s direction, with plans for shift rotations once more people were available.

The concrete bridge, as the only formal access point, required extra precautions. The setup—from the checkpoint at the bridgehead to the bus serving as a barricade at the exit—was meticulously arranged. The bus had been drained of fuel, its wheels removed, and it was positioned sideways across the bridge exit. The space between the bus body and the bridge railing was narrowed to allow only the armored vehicle to pass. The interior and luggage compartments were packed with rocks and filled with dirt, and the seats were piled high with spare bricks—an improvised armor technique learned from the school bus.

The rear windows of the bus were smashed out and replaced with two anti-theft iron gates. Wang Chen intended to weld them to the frame once a welder was found; for now, they were secured with rope. A Type 95 light machine gun could be mounted in the gap between the doors. While less effective against armored targets than an 87-style grenade launcher, it was more than sufficient to punch through the hood or shatter the hub of a civilian vehicle.

If thugs were to attempt to ram the bridge with heavy vehicles, they had a plan for that, too. The grenades brought from the Shanghai military camp had gone unused, so following Ma Tian’s suggestion, they improvised. Using plastic containers, nylon rope, plastic piping, and tape, they fashioned several pull-cord IEDs and buried them along the road near the bridgehead. While a grenade was unlikely to flip a speeding heavy vehicle, it could easily destroy a wheel hub. Without the ability to maintain balance, the vehicle would likely veer off course rather than charging straight onto the bridge, most likely plunging into the river.

Of course, these IEDs were a temporary safety hazard for the base itself, intended to be removed once the defenses were fully established. Wang Chen’s long-term plan was to use heavy lifting equipment to overturn several buses or vans, filling them with earth and stone to create a permanent roadblock, forcing vehicles to slow down and maneuver around the obstacle to reach the bridge. While this might make entry and exit more difficult, it would drastically increase security.