Chapter Seventy-Four: Training Day (Part Two)

Day after day passed, yet Wei Tao did not subject these soldiers to the same intense, cramming-style devil training he once gave Zhao Qiang. Instead, he implemented standard, methodical routines. Unlike Zhao Qiang, these men had all undergone proper, regular military instruction, and the missions ahead required less individual prowess than teamwork.

“The traditional wisdom says accuracy is key. The old rule: ‘Take your time, don’t make mistakes.’ But now, facing the hordes of the undead, everything has changed. Speed and precision are equally vital—fast reflexes, tactics, and accuracy are now one and the same. Zombies can appear before you at any moment, anywhere. Everything I teach you is rooted in movement—nothing is stationary. Targets move, shots are fired on the move, even those needing rescue are moving. So we must be quick! Fifteen seconds to empty a magazine—both accuracy and timing matter. Any questions?” Wei Tao, clad in full SWAT gear, paced incessantly before the assembled troops.

Their numbers had dwindled to fewer than ten; the rest had been eliminated, reassigned for separate training or prison guard duties. Only the elite remained. Not a single one of Cai Jiashu’s men had been cut; all stood out with excellent performance. Of the support staff, barely a tenth survived the selection.

Thanks to Wei Tao’s deft mediation, the initial rift between the two groups had melted away. Many had grown so close they could almost share a pair of trousers. Competition persisted, but now all energies were poured into training. The support soldiers fought to catch up. In the first round of selection, Cai Jiashu’s team barely edged ahead, but the others showed astonishing potential.

The remaining ten warriors stood tall, forming a line like javelins, listening intently to Wei Tao’s instructions. Facing new tactical demands, their faces shone with resolve and excitement. What boy doesn’t love firearms? Especially those raised in the city, who grew up watching American SWAT classics and dreaming of special forces. In the regular army, such a chance was rare—now that it had come, who wouldn’t seize it with all their might?

No one doubted Wei Tao’s training plan: speed and precision were essential for the squad’s survival. If they moved too slowly, they’d be trapped by waves of zombies—certain death. Without accuracy, no amount of bullets would suffice. Wei Tao demanded the magazine be emptied in fifteen seconds; without sharp shooting, a burst might not take down even a single zombie.

There were no objections. Wei Tao distributed the collected firearms. The Type 95 rifle was standard issue, no explanation needed. The military shotgun, modern in both form and function, resembled an assault rifle—smoothbore barrel, automatic mechanism, trigger assembly, magazine, sights, stock, and grip. Loading came in semi-automatic or fully automatic types; feeding could be pump-action, revolving, or magazine-fed. The only shotgun had been scavenged by Zhao Qiang and Jun Dao from the armory atop Mount Yuelu—just one. Given that close-quarters combat awaited, Wei Tao assigned it directly to the squad.

The ammunition Wei Tao dug out from the prison warehouse consisted of standard training rounds, low in lethality—meant more for suppressing riots than warfare, part of a “humane management” initiative. Over the years, the country’s prisons had remained stable, and these rounds had never seen use. Now, they conveniently addressed the shortage of training ammo.

Wei Tao began training at once, dividing the ten soldiers into two squads. Using ordinary tables and chairs, he constructed simple obstacles on the field, simulating a complex indoor environment. A few mannequins from the prison workshop were brought in to act as potential enemies.

“Cai Jiashu, go!” Wei Tao barked the order. The squad slipped in single file, hiding behind temporary barriers. Cai Jiashu, crouched and cradling his Type 95, advanced toward the target, using the obstacles for cover. “Take a kneeling position for cover!” At the command, Cai Jiashu swiftly knelt for vigilance, peeking over the barrier, his rifle’s dark muzzle sweeping alertly.

The other four soldiers soon followed in covering formation, three Type 95s and one shotgun close behind. Suddenly, a mannequin painted with a blue demon face leapt from the corner. Cai Jiashu didn’t hesitate; he squeezed the trigger decisively. Two shots rang out, and two white marks appeared instantly on the moving mannequin’s head.

“Move!” “Switch cover!” “Stop!” “High-low shooting positions!” “Charge, charge, charge!” “Advance firing positions!” “Go, go, go!” Wei Tao issued tactical commands in rapid succession, adapting to the simulated environment. Gunshots echoed, shell casings flew, and every mannequin appearing was marked with white dots within seconds.

After a full day’s training, the soldiers were caked in mud, their camouflage uniforms barely recognizable, bulletproof vests peppered with white marks from training rounds. Wei Tao’s instructions were clear: whether facing mindless zombies or potential enemies, the squads must be able to secure victory swiftly. The sooner the battle ended, the higher the chance of mission success.

Five soldiers formed a squad, ten split into two units. When the shooting simulation ended, the teams alternated between defense and offense, engaging in mock battles on the training ground. Lacking protective gear, they were strictly forbidden from shooting at each other's heads. Wei Tao kept a stopwatch, his eyes keenly tracking every tactical error for post-training review.

…

As dusk settled, the warriors walked arm-in-arm, laughing and chatting. Despite their exhaustion and dusty bodies, they stood as tall as ever—faces streaked with dirt but showing not a trace of fatigue. The day’s gains and losses were lively topics of discussion.

“Your Type 95s are the real deal—sustained firepower is fierce!” said Chen Ergou, the one assigned the shotgun, his face alight with excitement. Though he envied the continuous firepower of his teammates’ rifles, he clung tightly to his own shotgun.

“Come on, you lucky dog—acting like you’re hard done by! If it weren’t for you, we could have trained two more hours. What, eyeing my Type 95? Want to trade?” Cai Jiashu teased. Today was the last day of intensive training. Wei Tao had allowed Chen Ergou to use live ammunition in the shooting exercises. Normally, training rounds barely showed the shotgun’s power, but with live ammo, its might was overwhelming—a mannequin’s upper body blasted to bits with one shot. If it were a zombie, it would be one shot, one kill—no need to even aim.

Chen Ergou just grinned, hugging his gun with a look of pure contentment. In actual combat, the Type 95’s powerful sustained fire was the obvious choice against distant zombies, but for close encounters, the shotgun’s sheer force could safeguard the whole team.

“Look at you, stingy as ever.” Cai Jiashu laughed and cursed. Truth be told, he wouldn’t trade his Type 95 for the shotgun either, so he didn’t press the matter. “By the way, have you heard? Tomorrow we’re heading out on a mission!”

At the mention of a mission, every soldier’s ears perked up, urging Cai Jiashu not to keep them in suspense. Seeing he’d milked the moment enough, Cai Jiashu cleared his throat and said, “The specifics of tomorrow’s mission aren’t clear yet, but one thing’s certain: only one of our two teams will go. Given today’s performance in the mock battle, do I need to spell out the result for tomorrow?”