Chapter 17: Relocation

"This is torture! I’m just a couch potato, not a Terminator!" Guo Zijiang lay sprawled on the ground, limp and listless. He had long since lost count of how many times today he had collapsed like a heap of dead weight.

To ensure Guo Zijiang didn't slack off, his instructor, Saber, had added a supervisor—Comrade Zhang Yongming, who had walked the same path before him.

Every morning, Guo Zijiang learned that the seemingly frail Zhang Yongming possessed strength and a level of sadism that far surpassed Saber’s. At first, Guo could barely sustain his supernatural abilities for an hour. In truth, once he activated them, he lost all control over the outcome.

During these sessions, Zhang Yongming would instruct Guo on how to precisely control these powers. Often, Zhang would forcibly interfere and shut down Guo’s power output, forcing him to experience the sensation of deactivation. Every minute reaction Guo exhibited, including his pained expressions when his powers were abruptly cut off, was meticulously recorded by Zhang.

After finishing the ability training, Zhang would toss the utterly exhausted Guo to Saber. Under Zhang’s "torment," Guo was already drained to the bone; had he not felt his control over his powers increasing significantly, he would have thought himself nothing more than a human lab rat for Zhang.

Saber’s training was relatively normal: a five-kilometer weighted cross-country run as a warm-up, followed by mandatory courses in marksmanship, hand-to-hand combat, demolition, and team coordination, along with elective training in the disassembly and operation of various equipment.

Every day, Guo Zijiang was left dizzy and muddled by Zhang, then beaten black and blue by Saber. By the time training ended each night, he felt like collapsing right there on the drill field.

"Why hasn't anyone come to save me?" Guo stared up at the ceiling. "What is that guy named Zhao even busy with? If it weren't for him, would I be in this state?"

Zhao Qiang had plenty to keep him busy. Relocating the base was a monumental undertaking. Over the past few months, the Tiger Squad had carried out countless missions. Aside from scavenging for supplies, these missions included auxiliary tasks like rescuing isolated survivors. The base had grown from a few dozen people to nearly a thousand, a feat largely owed to Zhao Qiang and his Tiger Squad.

Persuading these people to move proved to be a nearly impossible task. They had finally been rescued from the threat of zombies and had just begun to settle into a relatively safe environment; everything was just starting to feel normal, yet now they were being asked to embark on an uncertain journey.

Although the Jianglu Machinery Plant was not far from the base—only about 40 kilometers away—the road ahead was teeming with man-eating zombies. The hideous, terrifying zombies, the lightning-fast zombie hounds, and the massive, horrific crushers had long become the nightmares of the survivors. Now, forced to face them again, the people's fear overwhelmed their reason.

To convince them to move, Zhao Qiang had to go door-to-door. While the prison offered sufficient security for the moment, it was simply too small to provide the land resources needed to support such a large population in the long run.

The best defense is a good offense. The base's daily expenditure of ammunition to control the surrounding zombie population was staggering, and the nearby armories had already been swept clean by the squads. With no new sources of ammunition, the squads had to strictly limit their gunfire during missions. The food situation was much the same; although Changsha had countless supermarkets, the supplies within could not sustain them for long.

Organizing a relocation of over a thousand people meant the convoy would inevitably be too long, and with a limited number of soldiers to provide a security perimeter, there were always gaps. Furthermore, transport capacity was limited, forcing the base to abandon the idea of a one-time move, opting instead to relocate in batches, like ants moving their nest.

Once the majority agreed to the transfer to Jianglu, the work proceeded smoothly. After repairing a damaged Type 98 tank and retrofitting a massive shovel to its front, the squad hauled in plenty of diesel from a nearby station. This tank was tasked with a critical mission: forging a clear path between the base and the Jianglu Machinery Plant.

The Type 98 tank weighed a full 48 tons, and with its 1,500-horsepower engine, there was little on the road that could stop this behemoth.

After the beast made a few round trips between the base and the plant, the road, previously choked with countless abandoned vehicles, was cleared—at least enough for the convoy of armored buses and Tiger armored vehicles to pass through quickly and safely.

"Tiger Group A calling Tiger Group B, please report your status! Over." Zhao Qiang, riding in the rear Tiger vehicle, maintained constant contact with the lead Tiger vehicle via radio. Since the relocation began, those wretched zombies had only caused significant trouble on the first day.

Once the transport convoy forced its way through the first wave of blockades, the overwhelming zombie army seemed to lose interest, never launching another organized attack. Zhao Qiang was deeply suspicious of this; zombies were persistent monsters. They didn't need rest, their stamina was nearly infinite, and when it came to prey, they were the most diligent of hunters, persisting until their prey became one of them or they themselves were utterly destroyed.

"This is Tiger Group B, everything is normal."

"Group B, this is the last trip for today. Step it up, don't let your guard down." Zhao Qiang refused to believe that the zombies had abandoned their appetite for fresh flesh. The "Intellects" lurking nearby must be brewing some hellish plan.

"Group B understands, over!"

The words had barely left the radio when a massive, thunderous impact reached Zhao Qiang’s ears, followed by a series of screeching brakes.

"We’re under attack!" the terrified voice of the armored bus driver roared over the headset. Zhao Qiang’s heart sank; his worst fear had come to pass. Looking out through the observation window, the armored bus didn't appear to be under attack, but the lead Tiger vehicle had flipped onto the side of the road, its four wheels spinning helplessly in the air.