Chapter 48: A Brutal Battle

The current zombies are beings that even devour their own kind; whenever a zombie dies, its corpse is quickly consumed by nearby companions. What’s more, the Zombie Queen cares nothing for these losses—ordinary zombies are mere cannon fodder in her eyes. Their purpose is simply to sap the enemy’s firepower, while the final confrontation will surely be left to the higher-level zombies and the Queen herself, who will personally take revenge on her enemies.

As for Ma Yi, his alliance with the Zombie Queen is motivated partly by vengeance, but also by his concern for humanity’s casualties. Regardless of which side ultimately prevails, Ma Yi cannot bear to see humanity suffer catastrophic losses. If every battle were to diminish the human population, the day would come when humanity vanished from this world altogether. Therefore, Ma Yi makes it his responsibility to check the Zombie Queen’s reckless consumption of humans at the right moment.

Now, Ma Yi has suggested to the Queen that they begin with probing attacks—seize the opportunity for a swift, forceful assault to breach and occupy the city walls, then deploy elite combatants for a decisive high-level engagement. Unless absolutely necessary, they must avoid relying on sheer numbers.

By two in the morning, the human defenders were showing signs of impatience. Even from a distance, Ma Yi could see the exhaustion in the eyes of the fighters on the wall; the unrelenting focus was slowly eroding their willpower.

Dozens of pitch-black S-class zombies hugged the ground, shooting toward the defensive lines outside the wall like arrows from a bow. Ma Yi, perched on a sturdy branch, could see clearly as the S-class zombies drew within three hundred meters of the defenders, who remained oblivious—night had dulled their senses to the minimum.

At two hundred meters, some defenders, though standing attentive and disciplined, could not help but yawn and slap their faces to stay alert. Those with battle honors clenched cigarettes between their lips, the nicotine keeping them awake for a little longer. Some silently polished their weapons—blades, spears, axes, hammers—diverse but all gleaming, proof of diligent care. After all, in the apocalypse, a weapon is often the difference between life and death.

At one hundred meters, an observer on the wall suddenly turned, eyes filled with doubt. His pupils contracted as realization struck; scrambling, he raised his signal flare and, after a second’s confirmation, fired. The red flare soared over a hundred meters high with a sharp whistle, and everyone on the wall snapped to attention, gazing into the darkness.

“Open fire!” Though the machine gunners hadn’t yet spotted the enemy, the flare was signal enough—danger was at hand. White streams of tracer rounds cut the night as thick, blinding lines. The S-class zombies were only twenty meters from the defenses; a few unlucky ones were hit directly, their bodies jerking before being shredded to pieces by the relentless hail of heavy-caliber bullets. It wasn’t that the S-class lacked defense, but these heavy machine guns were simply too powerful.

As the guns roared, the evolved humans in the defense force scrambled to support the gunners, forming a protective arc to ensure the machine gunners weren’t eliminated at the first assault and that backup gunners could take over if needed.

S-class claws clashed with weapons, throwing sparks. If a blow missed, the S-class zombies twisted and plunged into the ranks of the evolved fighters.

After nearly thirty seconds of continuous gunfire, the gunners realized there was no follow-up force. Just as hesitation set in, several swift black shadows bolted forward, and the machine guns thundered again.

Ma Yi observed that nearly all the machine guns erupted in fire simultaneously. These were elite troops; the instant the flare burned in the sky, they all opened fire without hesitation. Yet some sections had fired reflexively, where no zombies were actually attacking.

Though he was a man, Ma Yi had no special passion for weapons. His previous life afforded no leisure to study them. Much like his indifference to the luxury cars scattered around the villa district he once lived in—he’d never cared about cars, seeing only two kinds: common and uncommon.

The zombies launched three waves of assaults, forcing at least thirty heavy machine guns to expend considerable ammunition. Only then did the ordinary zombies advance under cover of darkness to within five hundred meters of the defensive line, quietly awaiting the Queen’s next command.

When the last machine gun fell silent, the immense zombie horde began to charge. Hundreds of thousands surged forward, shaking the ground. The machine gunners on the wall saw a flurry of red signal flares streak into the air—the zombies’ all-out assault had begun.

The machine guns blazed once more. Each gun had been issued less than ten belts of ammunition—enough, in theory, to hold the line for half an hour. But in practice, with so many unpredictable factors, ten belts might not last that long.

The earlier frenzy of gunfire had already overheated many barrels. A machine gun’s barrel is its lifeblood; prolonged firing turns it red and soft, risking catastrophic failure—a burst barrel and a useless gun.

Wave after wave, zombies fell like grass before the storm, white streams of bullets mowing them down, their corpses trampled by those behind. Even with dozens of interlaced streams of fire, the five-hundred-meter gap was shrinking.

At three hundred meters, the automatic anti-aircraft guns atop the wall stood ready, stacks of ammunition neatly piled nearby. The base had brought out all its anti-aircraft gun ammo, ensuring the six guns could unleash maximum carnage. But the distance was still too great; the guns would wait until the zombies reached a hundred meters or nearer, so as not to waste precious rounds.

To Ma Yi, any obedient, sensible being—whether zombie or human—was worthy of respect. Yet watching thousands of zombies shredded by bullets every minute still left him uneasy, especially now that he understood zombies might evolve into a new species.

He had tried to intervene, but the Zombie Queen refused. After all, he was but a guest, and it was not his place to control everyone around him, human or zombie.

After twenty minutes, the guns on the field gradually fell silent. Some had run out of ammunition, others had overheated. The evolved fighters readied themselves for close-quarters battle.

Among the ordinary zombies were mixed a number of J-class and S-class types, intended to counter the strongest human evolved fighters. Ordinary zombies matched up to first-rank evolved humans, while J1 and S1 were superior to second-rank fighters. Only those near third rank could contend with them. A lone J2 required at least a fourth-rank human to face in single combat, though well-coordinated third-rank teams could manage. Likewise, a J5 zombie would need at least three sixth-rank humans to overcome it, assuming the humans’ superior tactics and teamwork. In terms of raw physicality, humans were always at a disadvantage.

With the suppression of the machine guns gone, the zombies surged forward, and the evolved defenders retreated in an orderly fashion toward the city gate. With tens of thousands of evolved fighters outside the wall, if they didn’t gather at the gate, there would be no time to retreat into the base after the fight—before the zombie tide devoured them. Their role was to give the heavy weapons room to operate. Some wondered why the defenders didn’t simply fire from atop the wall.

The reason was simple: firing downward allowed only individual zombies to be hit, while positioning machine guns below the wall meant a single bullet could punch through four or five zombies at once. That’s why, despite the apparent advantage of height, firebases were established outside the wall. Without heavy weapons, there was nothing left for the evolved defenders to protect; their only choice was to fall back.

Blades and claws intertwined in a furious melee. The zombies fought with utter fearlessness; for humans, a scratch or bite meant inevitable infection and death. Thus, they fought with desperate valor, even the wounded striving to kill a few more zombies, often fighting more fiercely than before their injuries.

The humans retreated as they fought; some clearly accelerated during withdrawal. Those at the very front, despite the best armor, were quickly overwhelmed by the endless zombie tide—cut down two and four would surge forward. At such moments, one could only hope to keep running as long as one remained unscathed, with no expectation of rescue.

The anti-aircraft guns opened fire, casings clattering to the ground. Six guns carved a swath through the zombie ranks in front of the gate—a wall of bullets instantly reducing dozens of meters’ worth of zombies to mince. The evolved fighters responded, charging into the gaps and dispatching the survivors.

Once the isolated zombies were eliminated, the guns ceased fire, waiting for the horde to close in before tearing out another chunk, ensuring the numbers facing the evolved fighters were always manageable.

“Damn, these guns are incredible,” Ma Yi muttered, rising from his branch, eyes fixed on the weapons spewing fire. Though less spectacular than a movie Gatling, the twin barrels spat half-meter flames, bullets streaming in fiery lines through the zombie horde. From their elevated vantage, the rounds punched through zombies from skull to spine, many times more powerful than the earlier machine guns.

“The zombies can’t break through at all, but these things burn through ammo too fast. How long can they keep this up?” Ma Yi watched the casings pouring down—over a dozen every second, which meant thousands per minute. With such consumption, how much had the Southern Base stockpiled?

Compared to the Southern Base, small outposts like Changfeng were pitiful—at least Tongshan still had heavy weapons, while Changfeng relied solely on brute force. Ma Yi didn’t know that the Southern Base had once been a true military district, where live-fire training was routine. For standard weapons, they had ample ammunition, but for heavy arms, the supply was far more limited.

The Zombie Queen displayed no impatience. As swathes of her minions were slaughtered, her face betrayed not a flicker of emotion. Barely an hour had passed, and at least fifty or sixty thousand zombies had already perished. The ground outside the wall had risen visibly, layered with the dead, and as time wore on, the closer to the wall, the more corpses piled up, raising the earth higher and higher.