into the village

Chuxiang had long since devised a plan for finding food. Last night, while examining the satellite map, he had already formulated a strategy. Five kilometers eastward from the highway lay a large town. Although the town would likely be swarming with zombies, the food supply there would undoubtedly be abundant. If they were fortunate, they might even come across some airdrop rescue packages.

The airdrop rescue packages were an emergency measure initially implemented by the government using the air force. These supplies were dropped into densely populated areas, providing food and weapons to assist surviving humans in their self-rescue efforts. The contents of each package were plentiful:

Food: 50 packs of compressed biscuits, each weighing 118 grams; 10 cans of luncheon meat; 2 cans of pickled mustard greens with bamboo shoots; 2 cans of canned palm hearts from Brazil; 2 cans of mushrooms; 2 cans of baked beans, made from high-quality white beans with premium Xinjiang tomato sauce, with a shelf life of up to three years; 30 packs of instant noodles.

Water: 50 bottles of bottled mineral water.

Medicines: Common antibiotics, cold and pain-relief medications, iodine, gauze, and cotton, sufficient for two people for two weeks.

Weapons: Two Type 54 pistols, four magazines, and 100 rounds of ammunition. The choice of the Type 54 was due to its powerful caliber, which was deemed necessary for dealing with zombies and mutated monsters. Two standard M9 military knives, 31 cm in length, made from 440HC high-carbon steel, capable of unscrewing bolts, cutting high-tension wires, opening tin cans, and even beer bottles.

In the early days of the outbreak, the government dispatched hundreds of planes, dropping supplies over several major provinces for over a week. By now, however, with the collapse of the air force system, the large-scale airdrops had ceased. A significant portion of the packages had been salvaged by survivors, while others had fallen in inconspicuous places, quietly awaiting their rightful owners.

Chuxiang chose this particular town not only for its abundant supplies but also for its accessible transport routes. While Xu Changtian and Zhang Debing might not fully understand the horror of the zombies, having only encountered them recently, Chuxiang and Song Jun knew too well. Zombies were slow-moving, yet utterly indifferent to any weaponry. Once surrounded, unless one had wings, escape was impossible. Accessibility to transport routes was crucial, for otherwise, even finding food would be meaningless if one were trapped in a zombie horde.

The Qianjiang 250 surged forward like a streak of wind, passing through two small villages and attracting the pursuit of several dozen zombies, but they quickly fell behind. Chuxiang glanced at the rearview mirror, his reflection startled him. Was that still his face?

"What's wrong?" Song Jun asked from behind.

Chuxiang slowed the vehicle, "Song Jun, take a look. Is that still me? What is this terrifying scar? Damn it, now no girl will ever like me."

Song Jun was unfazed. "I saw it this morning. But I think that scar actually makes you look more manly. The wound is only three days old, but how did it form such a hard scar already? That's strange."

Chuxiang chuckled. The issue with Bai Xiaowei wasn't something he wanted to explain to Song Jun right now. Slowing down further, he examined his face more closely in the mirror. Sure enough, though he had once been considered handsome, he now lacked a certain masculine aura. But this long scar filled the gap, adding a rugged appeal rather than detracting from his image. If anything, it seemed to exude a certain allure—like the hero of a story who had endured great trials.

Now, Chuxiang understood why Zhang Jingyao had been so shocked when she saw his forehead last night, and why Su Yulian kept glancing at him. It was this scar that had somehow enhanced his appearance, making him seem more heroic. Well, he thought with a wry smile, it seemed that misfortune had brought him a kind of unexpected blessing. At the very least, surviving the T-virus infection was already a miracle in itself. "Damn," he muttered to himself, "I'm starting to get as self-absorbed as Bai Xiaowei."

The five kilometers passed quickly, and the large town was now only a few hundred meters away. At the town's entrance, over a hundred zombies were wandering aimlessly. They were emotionless, driven only by hunger, and their favorite food was fresh human flesh.

Song Jun nudged Chuxiang's back. "Chuxiang, stop. I'll ride the motorcycle to lure them away. You go into the village to search for food. It's 9:30. Let's meet back here by 11."

Though there were only about a hundred zombies at the entrance, there were likely many more hidden in the town. Using a living person to distract them was a perilous idea—one wrong move, and they would be surrounded. Chuxiang halted the motorcycle, shaking his head. "Let me draw them away. The town's food likely hasn't been taken yet, so we'll have more time. You only need to find two packages."

Song Jun didn't allow Chuxiang to protest, stepping forward to seize the driving controls. "Your driving skills aren't as good as mine. Besides, I may not be as skilled as you with weapons, but I can handle this. Those zombies are closing in. We need to act fast!"

Chuxiang realized there was no time for further argument. Besides, whether he went to lure the zombies or search for food, neither task was safe. With his space ring, searching for food might prove more useful. So, he took the two large bags from Song Jun and, carrying them, ran into a wheat field, circling around the zombies blocking the road and entering the village from behind. As long as Song Jun kept the zombies occupied, he would have plenty of time to search for food.

Not long ago, this rural village was filled with smoke, a place of life. But now, it was marked by the remnants of fire, caused by the destruction of power and gas supplies. Even if there were survivors, they didn't dare risk coming out to extinguish the flames. The power grid had collapsed, and as Chuxiang walked, he didn't see a single light on anywhere. A large brick house still had red wedding decorations on it, a sign of new marriage. But now, it was stained with blood, a tragic sight that made Chuxiang's heart ache.

Chuxiang moved cautiously. He had learned through experience that zombies had a heightened sense of hearing and sight. The noise from the motorcycle had likely drawn most of them away. He carefully checked the newlywed house, ensuring no zombies were inside, before quietly closing the gate.

Inside the house, the bridal chamber held two fat fish made of rice cakes, but they were covered in dark blood. Shaking his head, Chuxiang moved to the kitchen. Sure enough, this was the preparation for a wedding feast, with plenty of food. However, everything was moldy—piles of rotten pig heads stank, and vegetables were crawling with unknown insects. Even the four-season meatballs were completely ruined, with tunnels carved through them by the pests.

But Chuxiang didn't despair. In the kitchen, he found half a bag of rice! The rice was stored in a moisture-proof sack, and despite the winter, it wasn't harmed by the dryness. Most importantly, there were no signs of insects crawling on it. If he cooked it, it would make a hearty meal. How long had it been since he had rice? He had lost count.

In rural villages, rice sacks were rarely as large as thirty kilos, so this half-bag would weigh over thirty pounds. Chuxiang thought for a moment and then opened his space ring to store the rice. This was his personal property—he wouldn't take it out unless absolutely necessary. He didn't want to relive those days of starving hunger.

Opening the pantry next door, Chuxiang's heart leapt with joy. The shelves were filled with bags of biscuits, sugar cubes, and even cigarettes—likely intended for the wedding feast. Now, all of it went into Chuxiang's backpack, along with several dried jujubes. Better than the moldy bread.

Continuing his search, he found only wheat kernels and corn, nothing else edible. Disappointed, he turned back to the yard. Just then, a piece of cured meat hanging from the eaves caught his eye—what a prize! Hanging in mid-air, it seemed untouched by contamination. Given that survivors had become immune to the T-virus in the air, even if the meat had traces of the virus, it would no longer pose a threat of infection. This piece of cured meat was more tempting than abalone.

Stretching out his hand, he found it just out of reach. There was a wooden stool nearby. He moved it over and stood on it, but the meat was wrapped in plastic to shield it from dust, and secured with a wire. Chuxiang pulled at the wire, but it wouldn't break. He had no choice but to carefully unwind it. Just as he was about to succeed, the stool was suddenly pulled out from under him, and Chuxiang fell to the ground with a crash!