Chapter Eighty: The Corpse Suppression Talisman

Noon.

Once again, Fan Li led his team out of the building. The food they had gathered was enough to let them live comfortably for a while, but in the apocalypse, waiting passively for salvation was no different from courting death. The encounter with other survivors at the supermarket had served as a warning for Fan Li.

Their group was not the only survivor organization in existence.

Though the world outside was fraught with danger, a number of lucky souls had still managed to cling to life, hiding in various corners of the county town, struggling desperately to survive.

Should they share their surplus supplies with those in need, given their camp’s ample provisions?

Fan Li never considered his own reserves to be abundant. As someone with Hua blood in his veins, the pursuit of food was ingrained in his very bones. Unless they were growing crops or foraging for new sources, there could never truly be enough to feel secure.

Zombies would never raid stores for provisions, but surviving humans certainly would.

Canned goods and instant noodles were consumables—once used, they were gone. Before conditions grew any more dire, Fan Li had to find ways to stockpile even more food in their rooms for emergencies.

In this world’s end, with countless zombies forever prowling hungrily at his throat, where was there room for benevolence toward the fate of others?

…

There was no time for hesitation in encounters with zombies. In the instant of meeting, one either fell beneath their jaws or struck the creature down.

The moment the door opened, the fight was already underway. As the white cloth was torn away, a samurai sword stained with mottled blood was revealed.

Fan Li shot a cold glare at the zombie ahead, then swung his blade directly at its neck. The sharp edge met with withered flesh, and the zombie collapsed to the floor in a single stroke.

[120/500]

This was the sum of his recent slaughter points. Monsters and mutant types seemed to have their own territorial distributions. After taking out a group of Weepers, only ordinary zombies—those that did nothing but wail—had been left in the vicinity for the past several days of clearing work.

Ordinary zombies were not particularly threatening; unless they gathered in overwhelming numbers, there was little danger for Fan Li now. Of course, the downside was that collecting slaughter points had reached a bottleneck.

To others, this might seem a temporarily peaceful area, but for Fan Li, it marked the beginning of scarcity.

Ordinary zombies could no longer satisfy him; he urgently needed the challenge of mutants or monsters to drive his slaughter points higher.

“It’s time to try exploring farther afield!”

Fan Li wiped his clothes with a scrap of cloth from the zombie, already formulating plans for a long journey.

Monsters were a non-renewable resource. As a harvester of slaughter, Fan Li had already exhausted the resources nearby. It was time to seek out new territories and replenish himself.

But for now, the most pressing task was to clear out all the nearby pharmacies and convenience stores. The shops at the entrance had been emptied the previous day; today’s target was a pharmacy a mile away.

“Painkillers, medicated plasters, cough syrup, cold remedies, bandages, needles, disinfectant.”

“Why are you taking Viagra? Is that even on the list?”

“And don’t bother with that Black-Bone White Phoenix Pill—Hu Jia? Hu Jia is still a kid, she doesn’t need that.”

“Forget it, stop rummaging around, just take everything back. I’ll sort it all out later!”

Liu Hao stood in the pharmacy with a list in hand, occasionally adding to it. The complicated names of the medicines posed quite a challenge for Yang Shuo and Hu Huayao. Soon, the once orderly pharmacy had been turned upside down; some of the medicines were trampled underfoot, already damaged.

Everyone had their specialty, their role.

When Fan Li first gathered this small group, it was their individual abilities he valued. Though their numbers were few, Fan Li did not insist on absolute control, instead giving each person the chance to play to their strengths.

Yang Shuo was in charge of logistics. Hu Huayao, thanks to his strength, provided backup in combat. Though Liu Hao was the weakest physically, his credentials as a licensed doctor were as valuable as a convenience store in this zombie-ridden, death-haunted world—a truly rare talent.

In recent days, Fan Li focused on clearing out the dangers outside to earn more slaughter points, while the others calmly searched for supplies in shops and pharmacies.

Shuffling footsteps sounded from afar—a zombie with snow-white hair and a twisted face was approaching, having caught the noise. Driven by an endless hunger, it staggered toward Fan Li.

Just as there are different classes among people, so too are there among zombies, determined by their strength and vitality in life.

A man in his prime, once mutated, would always be stronger than an elderly, frail figure whose bones had grown brittle with age.

This zombie’s clothes, though tattered, still bore traces of famous brands, suggesting he had reached retirement age. After a life spent working for his career and children, he ought to be reclining in a rocking chair, basking in the sun, regaling friends with tales of the past.

Such was supposed to be his life, not this—his face twisted, body reeking, scavenging the streets for food.

Every zombie carried with it a story, but Fan Li could face them all with composure now. Whatever humanity they once had was gone; their writhing bodies were nothing but puppets, hollow, as if possessed by demons.

The aged flesh made every step a struggle. With arms outstretched, the zombie lumbered toward Fan Li, trying to sink its teeth into the enticing flesh of his neck, to drink his blood as if it were dew.

The scent of blood.

Up close, Fan Li spotted fresh blood around its mouth. Given its feebleness, it must have scavenged the remains of other zombies’ victims.

Zombies were savage and cruel.

They roamed the streets, preying on any living thing. Even the slowest, oldest zombie would settle for whatever scraps it could find.

Zombies deserved no pity—especially those that fed on the flesh of humans.

Fan Li strode right up to it, raised his hand like a machine, swung his blade, and a head tumbled to the ground.

“Ding!”

The familiar notification sounded. Fan Li was taken aback—hadn’t he just killed an ordinary zombie? Why this unexpected reward?

[Quest Progress: One Hundred Zombies Slain!]

[Your hands are stained with the blood of one hundred ordinary zombies. You have become a qualified hunter.]

[Reward: Corpse Suppression Talisman (consumable, one-time use)]

…