Chapter Twenty-Three: The Smasher (Part One)

Zhao Qiang hid in a corner, hurriedly loading bullets into his magazine. His face was smeared with dust and grime, making him look rather battered—a clear sign that he had just survived another harrowing battle.

At the group’s urging, Zhao Qiang had rested for a night in the supermarket, only setting out again on his search for his wife early the next morning. When he first left the supermarket, things went smoothly; wielding his knife, he dealt with nearly all obstacles in his path. Each strike, each skirmish, made his movements more adept, and with every flash of his blade, not a single zombie could survive even a single exchange.

In the midst of battle, Zhao Qiang suddenly noticed something unusual near an office building not far away. The structure itself was unremarkable, but for some reason, hundreds of zombies had gathered at its base. They hadn’t noticed Zhao Qiang approaching from behind and merely wandered aimlessly beneath the building.

In his experience, only humans could attract zombies’ attention. Such a large horde meant there must be survivors inside! Was it Li Zixin and his group? Zhao Qiang hesitated. The place wasn’t far from the convenience store where he’d last seen them; it was possible they’d retreated here. If he rushed in recklessly, those with the advantage of the terrain could easily ambush him.

As Zhao Qiang deliberated, gunshots suddenly rang out from within the building. He instantly recognized the distinctive sound of the Type-95 rifle. Survivors! The thought flashed through Zhao Qiang’s mind—he knew that, except for the handguns he’d left with a few police officers for self-defense, he’d taken away all their long guns.

No longer hesitating, Zhao Qiang carved a bloody path through the swarm of zombies and dashed into the office building. The gunfire intensified, though the intervals between bursts grew longer. Judging by the frantic, sustained firing, their opponents must have been formidable. Zhao Qiang grew anxious. The barricades downstairs still held, keeping most of the zombies at bay, and there were no signs of a breach—but what could drive the shooters to such desperation?

Could it be that creature? Zhao Qiang’s mind flashed back to the zombie dog that had appeared at the SWAT division two days earlier, and a chill settled in his heart. Slinging the Type-95 off his back and gripping it tightly, he quickened his ascent.

Soon, Zhao Qiang reached the floor where the gunshots had originated. The corridor was thick with smoke, but the fighting had ended. The walls were riddled with countless bullet holes, yet only a few drops of zombie blood stained the floor.

A soldier, freshly dead, slumped at the base of the wall. His fatal wound was in his chest, shattered ribs protruding from a caved-in cavity, the pooling blood still steaming. Damn it, what happened here? Judging by the injuries, the man had died from a powerful impact; the force had nearly hurled him into the ceiling. Clearly, the enemy wasn’t the zombie dog Zhao Qiang had expected.

If not a zombie dog, then what? The enemy was evidently not human—Zhao Qiang couldn’t imagine any man-made weapon inflicting such damage. Moreover, the defenders’ wall behind had not a single bullet hole. A deep sense of unease gripped him. Zombies were terrifying, but even zombie dogs could be dealt with. Against an unknown foe, Zhao Qiang felt far less confident.

The corridor bore scars of fierce combat; four or five bodies lay scattered, all dead in grisly fashion. An isolated burst of gunfire echoed again, but this time, it was brief. Following the sound, Zhao Qiang finally found the demon.

With a blood-curdling scream, the last survivor was torn in half by a grotesque creature. Blood and entrails splattered across the floor. With a long howl, the monster turned.

It was clear that this thing had once been human, but its upper body was monstrously disproportionate to its lower half—a sure sign of mutation. Its massive hands were nearly the size of Zhao Qiang’s waist, sinewy blue veins snaking across arms bulging with muscle. Thick, black blood oozed slowly from countless bullet wounds along its arms, while its pale, dead eyes fixed unblinkingly on Zhao Qiang.

Having locked onto a new target, the mutant zombie bellowed and charged, each thunderous step making the floor tremble.

Too close! Before Zhao Qiang could even raise his gun, the mutated zombie was already upon him, enveloped in a gust of foul wind. There was no time to hesitate. The grisly fate of the previous victims made it clear that this brute’s strength was nothing he could withstand head-on. Zhao Qiang ducked low, rolling deftly through the narrow gap between the zombie and the wall, narrowly evading the mutant’s devastating blow.

Though the mutant had gained monstrous strength, it had lost agility. Just as it seemed certain to crush Zhao Qiang, its prey slipped away in a blink. The mutant punched straight through the wall, bursting into the next room.

Dust filled the air and bricks clattered to the ground. Zhao Qiang was grateful for his timely evasive maneuver—he doubted his own body could withstand what the masonry had just endured. The smoke hadn’t yet cleared when the nightmare reappeared.

“Damn! It’s still not down!” Zhao Qiang cursed under his breath. Seizing the moment before the mutant spotted him, he raised his rifle and took aim. The gun erupted just as the mutant’s massive hand shot up to shield its vital areas—so fast that only the first bullet or two struck its torso; the rest hammered uselessly against its enormous arms.

Tracking the gunshots, the mutant rediscovered its target. The hail of bullets only made it more enraged. This time, instead of charging recklessly, it leaped high, one arm guarding its vitals, the other clenched in a fist, ready to strike as soon as Zhao Qiang drew near.

Zhao Qiang snorted. He noticed the mutant seemed to have gained a hint of intelligence, learning to protect its weak spots, but its attack remained laughably simple. A leaping attack might look impressive, but could it change course midair? Zhao Qiang dove aside once more, rolling clear of the mutant’s strike.

The mutant’s fist whistled through empty air, throwing it off balance as it smashed into the wall again. An opening! As the mutant struggled to free its arm from the rubble, Zhao Qiang squeezed the trigger.

But then—a sharp, metallic click. Misfire! Zhao Qiang’s face fell. Of all the times for the Type-95 to jam, why now? In that split second of dismay, the mutant wrenched its arm free, bricks tumbling to the floor.

With the monster charging again, Zhao Qiang had no time to clear the jam—he could only dodge. The earlier dust still clouded the air, now thickened by each clash, reducing visibility and filling the tight space with debris, shrinking Zhao Qiang’s room to maneuver.

If this went on, he’d eventually be flattened like a pancake. Dodging frantically, Zhao Qiang racked his brain for a solution. The fight shifted into the corridor, where, through the haze, Zhao Qiang suddenly spotted a patch of light in the distance—a window! Instantly, a plan formed.

Abandoning the struggle with the mutant, he darted through the smoke toward the window that offered him a chance. A fire safety cabinet appeared along the corridor, perfecting his plan. With a swift blow, he shattered the glass and strapped the cabinet to his waist.

The mutant, still searching for its enemy, was blinded by the dust. As it grew ever more furious at losing its target, gunfire erupted at the other end of the hall. With a roar, the mutant plowed through the thick smoke, charging toward Zhao Qiang once more.