Yang Mu didn’t expect yet another shock.

Two more soldiers, Ma Wusheng and Wang Liang, had been wounded.

It all happened so suddenly. Dong Yushan, the infected soldier, hadn’t even realized his leg was injured.

This wasn’t surprising.

In their frenzied retreat, they had killed many zombies, crossing a field littered with hundreds of undead bodies. It was likely then that one of the zombies’ claws scratched him.

Dong Yushan was a jovial man, chatting in the mess hall. When he heard Wang Liang’s sister and brother-in-law had died, he kindly patted Wang Liang on the shoulder to console him.

That’s when it happened—the infection spread through Dong Yushan in mere seconds, coursing through his veins, and soon his nails and teeth secreted the deadly virus.

Wang Liang was wounded, and upon seeing Dong Yushan’s eyes turn deathly pale, he screamed in terror.

Ma Wusheng, who had just stepped out of the control room, rushed over to help, only to be scratched by Dong Yushan as well.

Now, though Dong Yushan had been subdued, the tension was suffocating.

“Send him off,” came Xiang Ru’s soft, almost inaudible voice.

These two words were a military euphemism, coined by the commanders.

The order was clear: if a comrade became infected and turned, they were to be killed. It was the soldier’s highest honor, a brutal necessity to ensure everyone else’s safety.

But for those present, the weight of this duty was unbearable.

Ma Wusheng’s expression darkened, his face solemn.

He stepped forward, raised his gun, and with a single shot, shattered Dong Yushan’s skull.

The other soldiers, along with Xiang Ru, saluted in respect.

Ma Wusheng looked up at them, removed his weapons and the food he had been rationed, and tossed them at their feet. Then, with a rueful smile, he retreated to a corner of the room.

“Captain, send me off personally, will you? Heh, I’ve been secretly in love with you for the past two years in the Middle East but never dared to confess. Today, I finally have the courage. Dying by your hand... that would be my greatest honor.”

“Wusheng!”

Xiang Ru’s voice trembled, and for the first time, tears welled in her eyes. But she stubbornly held them back, refusing to let a single drop fall.

“I don't want to die! I can’t die! No! Don’t kill me!”

Wang Liang, utterly shaken, screamed in despair, scrambling toward the rest area.

Yang Mu stood at the door and kicked him to the ground.

“Get back! Take another step, and I’ll cut you down myself!”

Seeing the ferocity in Yang Mu’s eyes, Wang Liang recoiled in fear, curling up against the wall, sobbing uncontrollably.

Neither of them had transformed into zombies yet. They were carriers, but no one knew when they might turn, which was somehow more terrifying.

Dong Yushan’s body was carefully laid to the side. The soldiers untied him and covered him with a shirt.

Xiang Ru glanced at Ma Wusheng and gritted her teeth.

“There might still be hope... Tie him up. Maybe there’s still a chance, maybe... Maybe we’ll witness a miracle.”

Yang Mu had little say in these matters and didn’t want to voice unnecessary thoughts. He turned and returned to his room.

Gu Dasen and Song Ren quickly followed.

The room’s atmosphere had plummeted, chilling to the bone. No one spoke. Yang Mu climbed back into his bunk, while Chu Hong and Hu Die sat below. Gu Dasen and Song Ren sat silently on the floor.

Yang Mu felt surprisingly detached. Though he pitied the soldiers, his thoughts were elsewhere.

One dead, two infected—it meant three extra rations of food for those who remained. Survival, after all, had two sides.

More importantly...

Yang Mu glanced at the small demon, still peacefully sleeping beside him.

The soldier had died, his body now a lifeless corpse. That meant fresh food for the demon. But would Xiang Ru allow him to make use of her comrade’s body?

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Yang Mu felt disgusted by his own thoughts and forced himself to stop, pulling out his phone to play a game of PUBG.

Two minutes later, his frustrated shout startled everyone in the room.

“Damn it! Just got a good gun, and then I got shot!”

The four others exchanged bewildered glances, completely at a loss for how Yang Mu’s mind worked.

Time passed agonizingly slowly for the others, but not for Yang Mu.

He spent most of it sleeping or gaming, hardly eating but drinking water frequently.

Forty-eight hours passed, and both Gu Daisen and Song Ren had run out of food. Xiao Yao began to show signs of hunger, forcing Yang Mu to tie her up to prevent her from losing control.

But even worse news awaited them.

For instance, the two virus carriers had not yet zombified. Xiang Ru, clinging to the hope that they might survive, continued to feed them.

Yang Mu dismissed the possibility of such luck and believed they would eventually turn.

Meanwhile, another military unit had been dispatched.

It seemed like every new leader brought a different strategy, a constant shifting of orders.

But once again, the military suffered losses. Despite eliminating many zombies, a significant number of soldiers succumbed to the virus.

The dead zombies still secreted infectious agents, which, losing their adhesion to claws and teeth, spread freely, turning the quarantine zone into a veritable breeding ground for the virus. The zombie plague became harder to contain.

The quarantine zone was once again declared off-limits, and new regulations were issued.

Though Yang Mu appeared idle, he observed all this closely.

He continued to sleep and play games, but there was now a subtle furrow in his brow.

As day turned into six o'clock in the evening, they had been trapped for more than three days. The apocalypse had officially entered its seventh day.

Yang Mu stepped outside for a glance around. The special forces soldiers were all in low spirits.

Food was scarce, and what little they had was gone. Hunger had set in.

When Yang Mu went out, he saw one soldier guzzling water from a tap.

The room was filled with a foul stench as the zombie corpses had begun to rot.

This situation gave Yang Mu even more reason to worry. He retreated back to the room, sat directly on the ground, and took a sip of water. He overheard Gu Daisen talking to Hu Die.

"How much bread do you have left?"

"None."

"And chocolate?"

"Half a piece."

"Give it to me."

"Okay."

Yang Mu was somewhat surprised.

He hadn't expected a woman like Hu Die to share her food at such a moment.

It seemed her self-assessment had been correct after all—she wasn't heartless. Perhaps she hadn’t broken up with Gu Daisen because she found it too cruel to do so in such dire times.

Suddenly, a call came in—a video from Wen Sijia.

Yang Mu answered it with a grin.

"I just found out you and Chu Hong are trapped in a dead zone?"

Wen Sijia's voice was as calm as ever, but Yang Mu sensed a subtle change in her tone.

Was she worried about him?

Well, as she once said, if you keep a dog for two years, you’d naturally feel some concern.

"Yeah, did you just talk to Chu Hong? I'm a bit jealous, you always think of her first. By the way... what color underwear do you like to wear? It's kind of embarrassing that I've been your husband for two years and still don’t know such a simple thing, don’t you think?”

"Yang Mu!"

“What? I'm stuck in a damn apocalypse, can't I ask a simple question?"

"...Black."

Yang Mu laughed heartily, surprised by Wen Sijia’s unexpected surrender. This was a pleasant surprise.

"Stop laughing. I guess you really were pretending these past two years. I had no idea you had such a wild side."

"Hehe, not too bad. By the way, what made you send me a video?"

"Nothing... just wanted to remind you to make it out alive. And... didn’t you say you wouldn’t leave me a widow? Then hurry up and survive, so we can get that divorce. The Civil Affairs Bureau is still operating, you know. A few more days and..."

Wen Sijia trailed off, and Yang Mu laughed again, saying:

"Alright, check if there's a line for divorces. If it's long, grab a ticket so we don't have to wait."

"You think it’s like getting a table at a restaurant? A ticket?"

Wen Sijia pouted, but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

Perhaps she realized it wasn’t the time to be smiling, especially at Yang Mu, so her expression became awkward.

“Nothing more to say. I’m hanging up now.”

"Okay... by the way, do you have any see-through ones?"

"What?"

"Panties, the kind that are transparent front and back, with lace on the edges."

"....."

"Do you?"

"Go to hell!"

Wen Sijia hung up, and both of them were left with their own thoughts.

Wen Sijia—

"How dare he talk to me like that? Did he grow a spine in the quarantine zone?"

Yang Mu—

"Since when did Wen Sijia start swearing at me? Is she having some hormonal imbalance these days?"

Either way, the conversation left Yang Mu in high spirits, sweeping away the gloom and filling him with renewed determination to survive.

At that moment, a commotion erupted outside.

Had Ma Wusheng or Wang Liang zombified?

Yang Mu leapt to his feet, grabbed an axe, and rushed outside to investigate.

On the central table in the dining room lay a corpse, but it wasn’t Ma Wusheng or Wang Liang, the virus carriers.

"Who! Who killed him?!"

Xiang Ru's voice trembled with fury, her eyes bloodshot.

The dead man was Fang Chen, a member of the War Tiger unit.

"I was watching the monitor the whole time, didn’t notice anything. Then I heard a noise but didn’t check. I was too exhausted. After a few minutes, I turned to look, and Fang Chen was dead." Wei Xiaofeng frowned as he spoke.

“I was drinking water the whole time. Food’s gone, so I’ve been guzzling water. When I left the monitoring room, I saw Fang Chen leaning against the door, seemingly asleep standing up. When he collapsed, I didn’t think anything of it and didn’t realize he’d been killed.” The soldier Yang Mu had seen earlier, Li Shengdong, spoke with a hoarse voice, his face dark with exhaustion.

"I was sleeping on the floor of the monitoring room. I don’t know anything." Wu Feng looked bewildered, still half-asleep.

At that moment, Yelena whispered, "I was sleeping too. When I woke up, I saw he was dead, with a knife in his neck. There was a pool of blood. He was only recently killed. The murderer must be among us!"

Xiang Ru's icy gaze swept over the soldiers before settling on Yang Mu and the others standing at the door. Slowly, she said:

"The killer's strike was swift and precise, a single fatal blow, and they made sure not to let Fang Chen make a sound. The weapon was Fang Chen's own dagger, taken from his waist. He was asleep, standing by the door, when the murderer crept up, pulled out the knife, and stabbed him through the neck. Fang Chen collapsed when he lost his strength, making the noise we heard. Who killed him? Step forward and explain your actions! If I find out who it was, I will kill them on the spot! No mercy!"

Tension filled the air. Everyone began glancing around nervously, uncertain of the culprit, fear spreading among them.

A murder in a locked room was always terrifying.

Yang Mu leaned against the door, yawned, and let a cold smile slip across his face.