Chapter 64: The Attack

...

Not long ago, at the entrance of Longshan Camp.

The sun had risen, and two male students from the guard team were on watch at the gate, sharing a single assault rifle. While pacing, they suddenly spotted four vehicles approaching from a distance. The two boys quickly waved for the convoy to stop.

Inside the lead vehicle.

"Boss, there are people blocking the road ahead. They're armed—doesn't look like toy guns," said a bald driver to a gaunt man in the back seat. The lean man had sunken eyes that radiated malice, his sallow face and arms giving off the aura of a chronic drug user. Clad in a black vest and sporting a buzzcut, he casually puffed a cigarette while gripping a machete. His very appearance screamed "criminal," which was accurate—these men had been violent thugs even before the apocalypse. Now, freed from legal consequences, they roamed freely, killing and looting at will.

"Let me see," the gaunt man sneered, spotting the two teenagers. "Just a couple of brats

in school uniforms. If there were real soldiers here, they wouldn't send kids to guard the gate. Tell the crew to get out."

The yellow-haired thug in the passenger seat nodded, grabbing a walkie-talkie to relay orders. Soon, the group swaggered toward the gate, their smirks mimicking neighborhood bullies greeting old acquaintances.

"St-stop! Don't come closer! Or... or I'll shoot!" The armed boy stammered, trembling under the collective pressure of the black-clad gang.

"Relax, kid. Look, I'll drop my weapon." The gaunt leader theatrically placed his machete on the ground, hands raised, before inching forward.

"Wh-who are you?" The boys lowered their guard slightly.

"Survivors, just like you. Not those flesh-eating freaks. See? We even smile." He gestured to his crew, who burst into mocking laughter. *Crack!* In a blink, the assault rifle vanished from the boy's grip and materialized in the leader's hands. Before either could react, one teen was knocked unconscious by a punch, while the other was pinned by the yellow-haired thug.

The gaunt man inspected the rifle, his eyes gleaming as he ejected the magazine. "Real bullets! Damn, I'd love to blast those zombies after all the times they chased us! What is this place? *You*—talk!" He jabbed a finger at the restrained boy.

The petrified student, now sniveling, became the gang's laughingstock. "A-any soldiers here?" the leader pressed. "Lie, and I'll feed you to the undead."

*Slap!* The yellow-haired thug struck the boy. "Spit it out!"

*Whack!* The leader suddenly backhanded his subordinate, nearly spinning him to the ground. "Who told you to interrupt? *Piss off!*"

Turning back, the gaunt man adopted a faux-gentle tone. "Take your time, kid. Think of me as your teacher." The analogy only heightened the boy's panic.

"N-no soldiers... just... a special forces officer... she brought the guns..."

"*Special forces?!*" The gang recoiled in unison, the leader nearly dropping the rifle. Their bravado evaporated—messing with trained soldiers was suicide.

"But... she left yesterday..." the boy blurted.

"God*#@%! Why didn't you say that earlier?!" The leader raised his hand, ready to strike—

"Let him go!" A new voice shouted. Gao Dong, having noticed the commotion, approached with his firearm. Too late—the gang's attention had already shifted to a group of female students emerging behind him.

"Holy hell... fresh schoolgirls..."

"Who cares about special forces? I'm not leaving this goldmine!"

"With this rifle, we grab the girls and bail! I'm popping pills tonight!"

The leader grinned, using the terrified boy as a human shield. His crew drew blades and charged.

"Stop or I'll shoot!" Gao Dong backpedaled, finger trembling on the trigger. But hesitation cost him—hands yanked at his rifle as kicks and punches rained down. The yellow-haired thug, frustrated, raised his machete for a killing strike...