Chapter 314 - 244: A Shroud Over the Land (Part 2)

Chapter 314: Chapter 244: A Shroud Over the Land (Part 2)

A hand, clad in a fingerless tactical glove, expertly racked the bolt.

CLICK.

A hot brass casing ejected from the port, spinning as it fell onto the wooden planks with a crisp clatter.

"B17 sentry, target eliminated. Resuming watch." The soldier in the watchtower pressed the radio on his collar and reported.

"Roger that." Not far behind the tower, in a squad machine gun nest, a soldier keyed his radio in response.

The horde had been funneled into a network of traps formed by broken bridges and rivers. It was thanks to that near-suicidal plan that the quarantine zone hadn’t been annihilated by the zombie tide.

But the zombies were endless, as if they sprouted from the ground or fell from the sky. There was no killing them all.

Even with numerous outposts and hidden lookouts reporting activity, the occasional zombie still managed to breach the quarantine zone’s outer perimeter.

Thankfully, constant clearing operations had thinned the local zombie population, so a single gunshot no longer attracted a continuous stream of the dead.

Still, they had to remain on high alert for a while after every shot, just in case a smaller pack attacked.

"When is this hell ever going to end..." The soldier gripping the machine gun loosened his hold, rubbing his sweaty palms as he complained to the man beside him. "Those bastards get to stay inside, while we’re stuck out here!"

"Shh!" the other man hissed. "It’ll be over when we’re all dead."

He raised his binoculars, scanning the area where the body had fallen, checking for any more zombies...

Behind the military’s heavily fortified line of defense, a different kind of suffocating bleakness prevailed.

The once vibrant Linjiang University City, brimming with youthful energy, was now utterly transformed.

The wide, rubberized athletic field, the green spaces, and even the hallways of the academic buildings were crammed with a dense mishmash of tents and crude shelters.

Tens of thousands of survivors were packed in like insects. Under the dim solar-powered streetlights, a few sallow, emaciated figures could be seen rummaging through trash heaps or curled up in the shadows of the tents, hugging their knees with vacant eyes.

Cries, curses, gasps, and hushed conversations merged into a constant, churning drone. It was enough to make the soldiers on patrol furrow their brows and quicken their pace, praying for the sun to rise again and scatter the oppressive gloom of despair.

The scent of flowers was gone, replaced by the sour stench of sweat, excrement, and moldy food. This was the price of "safety."

Deeper inside University City, a lower, but electrified, barbed-wire fence separated this area from the refugee camp outside.

Beyond the wire fence, a four-story building that once housed the school’s logistics department was now brightly lit. A generator hummed, and condensation from an air conditioner dripped steadily into a bucket below.

Several "soldiers" in camouflage stood at the entrance, their demeanor completely different from those outside. They smoked, their eyes brazenly scanning the young female survivors who passed by the fence, as if they were selecting merchandise.

Inside the building, seven or eight people sat around a large, solid-wood conference table in a smoke-filled meeting room. A massive, silver-white axe rested on the tabletop.

In the shadows of a corner stood a large object completely draped in a white cloth. The thing beneath the sheet was restless; several malformed limbs could be seen faintly squirming and swaying, letting out a soft CLICK.

"...Zhao Dezhu, did you really just let them chase you back here like a stray dog?"

The man at the head of the table casually flicked the ash from his cigarette. He looked at the battered, bandaged man sitting across from him and asked,

"You lost the factory, you lost the crystal, and you lost the video you were supposed to bring back."

This man was none other than the "boss" who had fled the Fresh Meat factory. His expression was defiant, but he didn’t dare lash out. He just gritted his teeth, sneered, and said:

"I wasn’t chased back! It was a tactical retreat!" He jabbed a finger at the conference table, agitated and impatient. "Brother Yan! There’s something wrong with that kid! Something really wrong!"

"Zheng Lv—you know her, that broad—he smashed her to smithereens in one hit!"

The boss, Zhao Dezhu, widened his eyes, gesturing in a wild circle with one hand.

"A steel plate this big! Looked like a car door... It appeared out of thin air! WHOOSH! And it smashed that broad into a pile of broken bones!"

"So how did you manage to run back alive?" a young man with bleached-blond hair said with a sneer. "Why didn’t it ’whoosh’ and smash *you* to bits?"

"Ji Xin! What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Zhao Dezhu exploded in fury, slamming his hand on the table.

At the same instant, the large object under the white cloth in the corner stirred, and a sharp, bony claw came to rest on the young man’s neck!

But the young man was quick to react. A flame ignited in his palm—not an ordinary orange-red, but a searing, pale white that was blindingly bright. He brought his hand back to grab the bony claw!

The air instantly warped from the intense heat.

"Stop!"

A low shout rang out.

The man at the head of the table didn’t move, but his gaze was like two sharp daggers, pinning them both in place.

"This is a meeting, not a gladiatorial arena. Zhao, call your thing off."