The surviving cafeteria auntie at No. 14 High School in Guangxiu District told the teachers and parents: “We’re running low on meat.”
To be fair, this was the principal’s fault.
The new principal who had taken office after the first disaster wanted the students to eat fresher ingredients, so he had ordered the rapid consumption of frozen meat stock and prioritized purchasing fresh, chilled meat instead.
Now, the meat was nearly gone.
A bunch of teenagers—all at that age where they could eat a grown man out of house and home.
The teachers and parents discussed it and decided to make a trip to the nearby market for supplies.
The closest market was four streets away from the school. The students had already cleared the streets around the school of zombies; expanding further outward would naturally lead them to the market.
The survivors of No. 14 High School hadn’t planned to immediately head to the tech district, but they also didn’t intend to hide out on campus forever.
Especially the kids—they were in high spirits, displaying remarkable vitality and fearless courage in the face of this disaster.
The superpowered kids practiced their abilities every day.
The ordinary kids practiced formation drills and teamwork every day.
The less physically strong kids spent their days brainstorming all kinds of creative ideas—how to make superpowers more useful, how to make zombie-killing more efficient.
Everyone took shifts helping in the cafeteria, cleaning up, and maintaining a “pretty decent” living environment.
Everyone agreed they needed to “go out.”
Not only did they need to replenish food, but they also needed fresh clothes and cleaning supplies. And now that September had arrived, temperatures had dropped noticeably—the adults were already thinking about staying warm.
That market had a grocery section on the first floor, while the second and third floors sold clothing and other small goods. There should be what everyone needed.
So they set out—everyone in armor, everyone armed.
They cleared zombies from the streets along the way.
The kids had already encountered third-generation zombies. Third-gen zombies were indeed cunning—either hiding inside buildings along the streets or standing out in the open, pretending to be ordinary second-gen zombies to lower people’s guard.
But the kids had also gained plenty of combat experience.
Superpowered users had assistants supporting them.
The ordinary kids used the three-three formation—a practical battle-tested tactic proven effective in modern history. It had been proposed by a high school student who was a military enthusiast, and after practice and real combat, everyone had adopted it.
The kids’ growth was remarkable.
The student army made their way to the market.
It was called a market, but its full name was Hong’an Market.
There weren’t as many zombies inside as expected. The timing—August 29th—wasn’t the market’s peak hour.
The elderly shoppers had already finished their morning grocery runs, and office workers wouldn’t stop by until after work.
At this hour, the zombies were mostly market vendors—hardworking people who had been up since 3 AM to stock and prepare their goods.
Still, no matter who they’d been in life, once they turned into zombies, they were zombies. There was nothing anyone could do about that.
The students showed no fear. With tight coordination, they spent over an hour clearing out the first floor.
A teacher stood with hands on her hips: “So much produce here—too bad it’s not very fresh anymore.”
After all, a whole week had passed. Especially those last few days of August, when it had been scorching hot like summer. It had only just started cooling down.
A lot of the vegetables had rotted.
Everyone lamented the waste.
“Let’s go—there’s still the second and third floors.”
“Upstairs!”
As they climbed, they exchanged tips: “This shovel really works great.”
After seeing the crescent-blade shovel Jiang Cheng used on TV, Wu Shuchen had made replicas. Now, about half the group had switched to the shovel, while the other half were used to their iron clubs and refused to change.
It seemed the shovel was indeed better—sharp-edged for cutting, with a flat side for smashing. Versatile.
Leading the way was a fire-type student. Even though he had superpowers, he still carried a crescent-blade shovel—superpowers could run out, and he still needed a weapon.
He’d tried it out just now, and the shovel was indeed effective. As he reached the stairwell landing, he heard someone next to him say, “I should have switched earlier too.” He turned to reply, “I told you all—”
Before he could finish, he heard shouts from many voices: “Watch out!”
The fire-type boy felt his neck tighten. Not only could he suddenly not breathe, but his body was yanked off the ground and slammed onto the stairs, clattering as he was dragged down. The metal shoulder plates screeched against the steps.
His head jolted up and down, and he was instantly dazed—he had no idea what was happening.
All he could hear were frantic voices shouting around him!
“Hold on to him!”
“Chop it off! Chop it off!”
Suddenly his body came to a halt! Footsteps surrounded him as classmates charged upward: “After it!”
Other classmates scrambled to untangle whatever was wrapped around his neck: “You okay?”
The boy gasped for air and coughed violently.
Several people patted his back to help him breathe.
“Are you hurt?”
The back of his armor’s neck guard had a shell-like raised section that protected the neck, back of the head, and ears. Thanks to the armor, there were no cuts. But bruises from the impact were unavoidable.
Once he finally caught his breath, he looked at the greenish thing lying on the ground and shuddered: “What was that? A snake?”
“No.” Someone poked at it with an iron rod, crouched down for a closer look, and finally realized: “Holy shit!”
He stood up, cupped his hands around his mouth, and shouted up to the upper floor: “Everyone be careful! That’s a tentacle! It’s not a snake—it’s a tentacle!”
What had happened: as they climbed upstairs, the fire-type boy in front had turned back to speak, and many had seen a long green rope-like object shoot down from above, slap into the gap between his armor and the back of his head, and coil around his neck.
Everyone’s first thought was: Snake!
That “snake” had coiled around the boy’s neck and was dragging him back down!
As they cried out in alarm, they all acted at once—some reached out to grab it, some chased, some yelled.
In the end, the ones running at the front succeeded in cutting the “snake” with their crescent-blade shovels, saving the fire-type boy. A whole group of them charged upstairs in pursuit: “Don’t let it get away!”
The second floor was filled with all kinds of daily odds and ends—buckets, washbasins, brooms, mops, plastic stools, hardware, bedding, Buddha statues, picture framing shops, and so on. The stores were lined up one after another, open at the top with partition walls in between.
But there were far fewer zombies on the second floor than expected.
By the time they got upstairs, the “snake” had vanished.
As they searched, they heard the classmates downstairs shout: “It’s not a snake! It’s a tentacle! A tentacle!”
Everyone exchanged bewildered looks: “Huh?”
Suddenly a girl screamed, crashed to the floor, and started sliding across the ground! Her metal armor screeched against the tiles!
The “tentacle” had wrapped around her ankle and was dragging her along—and it was fast! It even knocked over two zombies in its path.
The classmates gave chase! As they ran, they had to kill the zombies blocking the aisles—fortunately, they were just basic zombies, slow and clumsy.
The dragged girl screamed as, at the turn, she frantically grabbed hold of a shop’s partition wall.
The aluminum wall was thin enough for her hand to grip.
The girl shouted: “Save me!”
The classmates who had rushed up raised their crescent-blade shovels to chop down—but the “tentacle” seemed to have learned from its last mistake. Before the sharp blade could strike, it suddenly released the girl’s ankle and whipped around, slapping the raised-shovel classmate across the face, spinning him around like a top. The shovel clattered out of his hand and hit the floor.
It hit hard.
That classmate was completely dazed.
The girl scrambled to her feet, and they both sat on the ground—one stunned, one gasping.
The “tentacle” was gone.
The aisles between shops formed a grid pattern, crisscrossing in all directions.
Footsteps echoed everywhere as classmates moved in confusion.
“Over here!”
“It’s gone again!”
“On our side!”
“Ouch—zombie!”
There were only scattered zombies on the second floor, relatively easy to handle.
Suddenly someone shouted: “It’s gone up to the third floor!”
Everyone charged up in a rush.
The third floor sold clothing. The shops were more densely packed than the second floor, and the aisles were narrower.
At a glance, they couldn’t see any zombies at all.
Everyone split into several teams, taking different routes. They gripped their weapons tightly, keeping their heads down and watching the floor—that “tentacle” appeared and disappeared without warning, slithering along the ground like a snake, slick and fast.
Suddenly someone yelled: “Over here!”
Everyone rushed toward the sound.
The boy at the very back of one team suddenly felt his neck tighten. He opened his mouth to shout, but something cinched around his mouth, silencing him.
His weapon clattered to the floor—but the classmates ahead were all running and shouting too loudly for anyone to notice.
The boy fell and was dragged along, watching the shops on both sides blur past.
He desperately clawed at the “tentacle” wrapped around his mouth and neck. But the thing looked soft yet had a tough hide, and its strength was immense—it was squeezing the consciousness out of him.
I’m done for, the boy thought, his heart turning cold. I’m going to die.
But in that instant, a sharp crescent-blade shovel came down hard, landing perilously close to the top of his head and severing the “tentacle.”
It was the girl who had been dragged by her ankle on the second floor. She had been so shaken that she’d sat on the ground catching her breath for a while, only coming up with the boy who’d been spun like a top to rejoin the main force.
Just as they charged in, at the intersection ahead, they saw a “tentacle” slithering horizontally across the floor.
The girl reacted quickly. Without a second thought, she dashed over and brought her shovel down—severing it right above the dragged boy’s head.
A moment later, and she might have hit his face instead.
“Over here!” the boy with her shouted. “Over here—it grabbed someone!”
A whole crowd came rushing over.
The girl helped untangle the “tentacle” from the boy’s neck and mouth: “You okay?”
The sensation in his mouth was absolutely revolting.
He might have been the first person to make tongue-contact with a zombie—it was that disgusting.
The boy got up and vomited his breakfast. After wiping his mouth, he snarled: “Where’s my shovel? Where’s my shovel? I’m gonna turn this thing into grilled squid tentacles!”
He started searching everywhere for his shovel.
Everyone gave chase, but that “tentacle” was incredibly cunning, lightning-fast, and always ambushed the one at the very back.
No matter how they chased, they couldn’t catch it.
Finally, two electric-type superpower students put their heads together and stepped forward: “Everyone fall back—retreat to the stairs.”
The teacher tried to stop them, but the two students said: “There’s no other way.”
A parent said: “Let them try.”
The parent added: “Don’t hold back—go full power from the start.”
The two students nodded and walked resolutely into the depths of the market without looking back.
Wu Shuchen gripped his shovel tight.
Senior Huang Xuetao, did you see that?
The other seniors are all so brave too.
So am I.
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