They’d reached the destination. After Jixiang Jiayuan’s convoy had crossed the overpass to the inner side of the ring road, the people in the other cars that had followed along didn’t know what was up with these four 535 buses.
The Fifth Ring Road was a suburban expressway with few residences on either side. On the outer side, beyond the green belt, were office buildings and factories.
So there were almost no zombies along this stretch.
Some cars couldn’t wait and sped ahead, trying to grab the best spots.
No one actually knew which spots counted as “good,” but that’s how it goes when there are too many people—some people just have to be first, to be at the front.
The driver of the youth apartment’s lead bus turned and asked: “What do we do? Do we overtake?”
Everyone looked at Jiang Cheng.
Jiang Cheng said: “Keep driving forward.”
The four buses kept going forward. The cars behind gradually stopped, but the big buses kept moving.
Because Jiang Cheng hadn’t said to stop.
It wasn’t until Jiang Cheng finally said, “Stop here.”
“There are no trees here—full visibility, safer,” Jiang Cheng said.
The area they’d just passed had green belts, also known as the city’s lungs—large man-made forests along the ring road that blocked sightlines.
The spot Jiang Cheng chose was past that forest area. On either side of the road were companies and factories now. Beyond the iron railings stood buildings and spacious courtyards. They could clearly see a few zombies in the yards.
“Honk the horn,” Jiang Cheng said. “Clear them out.”
The big bus’s horn suddenly blared, startling the cars behind that were still hesitating about whether to follow.
“What the hell!”
The cursing stopped abruptly when they saw zombies leaping over the railings: “Holy shit!”
The youth apartment people, meanwhile, were more like: “Oh ho!”
When there were enough people, original zombies weren’t scary—they could basically be overwhelmed by numbers.
The real trouble was the second-generation zombies. They were too fast, too agile. You had to watch out for surprise attacks.
But now, under the bright sun with unimpeded visibility, once they’d lured the second-generation zombies out with the horn, there was no fear. Just go at them.
Everyone was howling with fighting spirit. Jiang Cheng said: “Wait a little longer. Don’t open the doors yet.”
The core members were all on the lead bus, and the three buses behind followed its lead. If the lead bus didn’t open its doors, neither did they.
They watched as the second-generation zombie ran straight for the lead bus, jumped, and slapped the glass with a loud crack. Fortunately, it hit the center of the window. The sound was huge and startling, but the bus glass held against that central blow—no crack.
The lead bus kept honking, the piercing blare continuing. And indeed, waiting paid off—there wasn’t just one second-generation zombie. Three more came running out in succession.
Original zombies were also attracted by the horn, but they were blocked by the factory’s iron railings, their gray-blue arms reaching through the bars, letting out ugly, rasping howls.
But the second-generation zombies were different. They leaped, using the ordinary zombies as stepping stones, and climbed right over the railings. Their movements were as nimble as monkeys.
Several second-generation zombies bounced around attacking the lead bus. One struck the edge of the window—thwack! A web of cracks spread across the glass.
Second-generation zombies were significantly stronger than the original ones.
Jiang Cheng had them wait before getting off. The prolonged honking was specifically to draw out second-generation zombies.
When it seemed like there were no more, Jiang Cheng raised her walkie-talkie: “Buses behind—help us clear them out.”
Second-generation zombies were too fast. Jiang Cheng didn’t dare open the doors directly—if they couldn’t push out in time and the zombies burst in, the narrow cabin space could lead to someone getting injured or infected.
The doors of the three buses behind all opened.
This time, the recruited volunteers weren’t called the suicide squad—they were called the scavenger squad.
Young people loved that kind of thing—making the best of a bad situation.
Whatever they were called, the dozens of members, all experienced in combat and well-protected, weren’t afraid of just four second-generation zombies. The people from the three rear buses charged out, ganged up on the four zombies without any martial honor, and beheaded them all.
The cars following behind watched in stunned silence.
These people actually had battle formations—clustering together in groups, covering each other from front, back, left, and right.
Who were these people?
No one behind them knew. The young people from the youth apartment didn’t have to work, and they weren’t short on food—they had nothing to do all day. They went downstairs every day and hung out in groups.
When men got together, they started trouble.
Especially when faced with survival issues.
They’d been at it for a while—studying zombie behavior, finding neighbors they got along with, forming groups, and after meals, going downstairs to practice “formation” killing in coordination.
Too bad that when they were practicing, there were almost no zombies on Jixiang West Street. And the interim committee didn’t recommend unauthorized outings.
Anyone who went out without permission had to be inspected head to toe upon return.
If there was even a scratch or scrape, it was hard to explain—they’d be locked up and quarantined for observation.
Their “battle formations” got smoother and smoother with practice—all they needed was real combat.
And in real combat, they immediately saw both strengths and weaknesses. Sure enough, real combat was necessary—they needed to improve.
But how could the people in the cars behind know any of this? They all speculated: “Are they soldiers?”
“Doesn’t look like it. Soldiers walk and eat in perfect order—these people don’t look like that. Definitely not.”
“Are they college students? They all look pretty young.”
“…Not that young, though.”
“Then, employees from the same company?”
The main thing was, their age range was too concentrated. It didn’t seem like the typical mix of residents from one neighborhood.
“What neighborhood has only young people—men and women, old and young—it’s never that uniform.”
“Heh~ there actually is!”
Someone actually guessed it: “Youth apartment! It’s definitely the youth apartment!”
“I heard they’re the ones who emptied out the Biduoduo supermarket!”
“No wonder they could clear out a supermarket—their combat power is something else.”
“Don’t start anything with them later—keep your distance.”
The people from the lead bus got off too.
Jiang Cheng pushed her crossbody bag behind her, using her hip to brace Mo Li, and stood with her hands on her hips, looking up at the cracked window glass.
“Jiangbing,” she turned back and asked, “could you crack that glass with just your fist?”
Li Jiangbing boasted: “Of course I could… right?”
His voice trailed off with less certainty. He’d never actually tried. He knew perfectly well how much of his muscle came from protein powder and supplements.
The government’s supply convoy was still far from the estimated arrival time. A few zombies had come running from the woods and had already been run over by cars. The rest were blocked by the factory’s iron railings.
Everyone was restless. Since the convoy hadn’t arrived yet, and the factory wasn’t far—just across a patch of grass—they went over and stabbed at the zombies through the railings.
Original zombies were the most mindless—they didn’t dodge when their arms were cut off or knives stabbed into their bodies, and they didn’t “die” either.
They only died when you smashed their brains or severed the connection between head and body.
Some guessed the brain was the main control center. Destroy the brain, and they died. Break the neck, sever the central nervous system, and the controller lost command over the body—they died too.
But there were also doctors in the neighborhood who insisted they’d examined zombie bodies, and none of that held up scientifically.
This thing wasn’t scientific! It shouldn’t exist! It violated too many biological theories.
And yet there it was, right before their eyes—possibly even someone they knew, or a family member.
Try asking a doctor to explain it, and they’d tear their hair out in frustration.
“This thing really is…” they said as they stabbed at the zombies, “…kind of stupid.”
Original zombies didn’t dodge. They just roared and tried to lunge and bite. But blocked by the railings, their gray-blue faces squeezed desperately through the gaps, contorting out of shape.
They used their steel pipes to stab directly into the eye sockets and mash the brains.
One of them hadn’t been stabbed yet when it pushed too hard—with a crunch of breaking bone, its deformed, squeezed head actually popped out through the gap, startling everyone.
Its skull had been crushed but it wasn’t dead yet. Its head was misshapen, screeching horribly—especially disgusting.
They quickly chopped its head off. The headless body hung on the railings and went still.
The interim committee’s core members didn’t join in the fooling around—they had real work to do.
Peng Ze climbed onto the bus roof. He’d brought a pair of binoculars this time. Standing high up, he looked through them for a while, then climbed down: “Nothing. I don’t see anything.”
The official supplies were still nowhere in sight.
Jiang Cheng nodded.
Peng Ze looked around, a bit worried: “Are we too far from the drop point?”
The announcement had said Wan’an Bridge was a drop point. He felt like it should be right under the bridge—that was the center point.
Their four buses had gone a bit too far. He was worried the government would drop everything there and they’d have a hard time grabbing it.
“Supplies are for ‘people,’” Jiang Cheng said casually. “Where there are people, that’s the drop point.”
They had numbers and big vehicles—the convoy would spot them at a glance.
Song Jingshuo also got off the bus. He took off his brand-name sports backpack, unzipped it, and pulled out a pile of purple fabric strips: “Here, tie these on yourselves so we can identify each other. We don’t want to fight among ourselves.”
With over two thousand people in the neighborhood, not everyone knew every neighbor. The last thing they needed was conflict among their own.
The interim committee had even thought of this.
Everyone went over to grab a strip.
Some tied them around their arms, some around their foreheads. The atmosphere instantly picked up.
Only Jiang Cheng held hers, staring at it for a moment before looking up: “Bed sheets?”
Song Jingshuo froze for a second.
Li Jiangbing burst out laughing: “Old Song, you have such flashy bed sheets? I never would’ve guessed! Never would’ve guessed!”
Song Jingshuo rubbed his temple helplessly: “My mom bought them when she came to visit. I’ve never used them.”
The color was way too flamboyant for a single young man’s bedroom. He’d always thought they were an eyesore, but since they were a gift from his mother, he hadn’t thrown them away—just kept them in the chest of drawers, unused.
Now he had a legitimate excuse to “make full use of them.”
Li Jiangbing was wheezing with laughter.
Peng Ze also tied a strip around his forehead, then climbed back onto the roof to serve as lookout.
Jiang Cheng handed him the crossbody bag with Mo Li inside, and he took Mo Li up to the roof too, letting him out to bask in the sun.
An hour later, Peng Ze suddenly jumped up: “They’re here! They’re here!”
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