Beginning with the Ubume Bird

Chapter 297: Chapter 23 The Bombing Begins (Part Two)

“Hu~” “Hu~”

Song Zuo’s left hand was firmly pressed against his neck, covered in blood, yet an ugly smile squeezed onto that chicken-skin-like old face.

“Thought I was a goner this time…”

The bullet had grazed his major artery, pierced through the skin, and exited without hitting bone or nerve, but for an ordinary person, the heavy bleeding was still a potentially fatal injury.

But Song Zuo was an anomaly.

The viscous blood dripped down the bark and soon stuck to the tree, not resembling blood at all but giving off a tar-like sticky texture instead.

…

“The skin ulceration caused by the precipitation of blood toxins isn’t fatal, but your blood plasma protein content is over a hundred and sixty times that of an average patient with hyper-viscosity syndrome, arteriosclerosis, thrombosis, cerebral infarction, myocardial infarction… Wow! Old man, how have you managed to live till now?”

Song Zuo could no longer remember the doctor’s face, only that every time he saw him, there was a cold, harsh light shining on his face.

The scalpel incised his arm, and behind the red scars, it took a good while before a little quivering plasma finally flowed out.

“Tsk tsk tsk, like jelly, a miracle of life.”

He wore a mask, smearing the blood onto his fingertips.

“Can it be saved?”

Song Zuo on the operating table, with bulging eyes, looked like a frog waiting to be dissected.

“Terminal illness. Nowadays, the variety of strange diseases is more than the number of wild plague rats. Big companies with ample funding put their efforts into developing military hardware; who has the mind to research this? Oh, and the Big Ben Research Institute has a drug called es Hematopoietic Cell Enhancer, which, if taken in large quantities, can suppress your condition.”

“But I must warn you that your heart is already under a great deal of strain. If it weren’t for the base strength of a third-order soldier upholding you, you definitely wouldn’t have made it to today. Yet, using this drug in large amounts will cause irreversible damage to your heart. In time, your heart rate will become slower and slower, until it can no longer hold out, and then you’ll pass away. Didn’t your son overdose on… Oh, sorry.”

“…”

After a moment of silence, Song Zuo lying on the cold operating table spoke up, “Damn the bitter winter.”

The doctor pushed up his glasses, “Indeed, damn the bitter winter.”

Bang!!!!!!

A large ball of fire exploded amidst the intertwining ruins, Song Zuo picked up a can of clotting spray and violently sprayed it on his neck, his right hand steady as a rock as he pulled the trigger.

Far away on the balcony, flames blazed fiercely, a figure’s skeleton was vaguely visible, already charred beyond human recognition.

“It’s not him, there’s more!”

Without any reason, Song Zuo determined that the zombie sniper, who with his uncanny skills and a Mosin-Nagant rifle fitted with a scope, nearly took his life, was still active on the battlefield…

The charred wreckage was filled with dust, and occasionally the cries of vicious dogs and gunfire could be heard, while the decrepit buildings engulfed in vines and poplar trees grew quiet, no longer echoing the unique heavy gunfire of the wild yak rifles or the sight of a concealed zombie sniper in the dark.

Song Zuo’s view was clear. In his ammo bag were homemade bullets of various special functions, yet he loaded the most ordinary 7.62mm rifle bullet, aware that no matter how much the Winter’s firearms evolved, the foundation remains the nearly thirty-year-long war that led the world to its burial; among all of his bullets, this mass-produced bullet had the shortest firing time, probably only about 0.02 seconds.

Even though he didn’t want to admit it, in terms of sniping skills, he was indeed outmatched, but there was still a chance to win; it all depended on who had better luck.

Since his childhood, firearms had been Song Zuo’s best companions. At the age of twelve, his first sniper rifle was a German G43. With a head like a little radish, carrying a rifle, he moved across various battlefields with his festering skin. If he wanted to live, he needed lots of money to buy drugs from Pompeii. To get that money, he would have to risk his life in situations like the current one, a vicious paradox.

Suddenly, a figure wearing a beret appeared in Song Zuo’s view, holding a jujube-red rifle, with his right eye on the crosshair.

As if in communication, the instant the beret appeared, at least three sniper rifles simultaneously poked out in Song Zuo’s scope, all aimed at the poplar tree where he was positioned.

With no time to think, Song Zuo twisted his waist to adjust his rifle’s direction while his index finger pulled the trigger of the RS107, firing the bullet.

…

A crimson-headed zombie dog collapsed limp, blood oozing from its mouth and nose without any visible wound.

Blood Dip!

Li Yan’s hands with the Tiger Head Great Spear were smeared with foul-smelling blood, and under his feet, twisted and contorted, lay the corpses of Vladimir Dogs—half of them killed by Li Yan using Blood Dip. These ferocious beasts were nimble and fierce. Li Yan was not afraid of their teeth and claws, but he didn’t want to be smeared with their radioactive poisonous blood, so he tried to kill them with Blood Dip whenever possible. Although it didn’t show, after using Blood Dip five times consecutively and killing fifteen zombie dogs, Li Yan’s eyes still felt swollen and his chest congested.

With just a glance from Li Yan, one after another of the Vladimir Dogs eerily fell to the ground, their limbs twitching.

From the open ceiling of the ruined room, the moon could be seen. Li Yan stepped over the bloodied ground and ashes, heading downstairs through the corridor, when suddenly, the doors around him burst open! A swarm of armed zombies leaped out. Dark muzzles protruded like an iron forest, and gunfire burst like torrential rain, with casings cheerfully hitting the ground. Concrete and thin metal sheets were pierced through back and forth.

Li Yan rolled over one barricade after another, with the Ice Wall swiftly forming in front of him and then immediately shattered by gunfire. Amidst the bends and turns, he sprinted with unwavering determination. In an instant, his rifle reached the faces of three zombies holding rifles, and with his pale knuckles, he swung the weapon, unleashing the Devouring Blade elegantly like a dragon, creating a spray of red and white splatter.

Dadadadada…

Li Yan propped up the headless corpse of a zombie in front of him and strode forward.

Roar~

A tide of crimson multi-headed dogs rushed in; most were dispatched by Li Yan’s Blood Dip and Devouring Blade, but inevitably one managed to bite down on Li Yan’s wrist.

It was a two-headed Vladimir Dog; its left head clamped onto Li Yan’s wrist, and the right head, unrelenting, stretched its neck out to bite at Li Yan’s throat. Yet before it could reach, it yelped and collapsed, kicked off the building by Li Yan’s boot.

Li Yan’s wrist was encased in a two-inch layer of ice with the teeth marks clearly visible. He shook off the ice, looking around to find that the sounds of resistance were already tapering off.

The gunmen blocking the doorway, unable to hold off the assault, retreated in waves from the staircase. A small half of the zombie gunmen managed to retreat successfully, while the rest were cleanly eliminated by Li Yan.

Li Yan walked to the stairwell, where drafts blew through the dilapidated building. He took out the few remaining Yuanmou jujubes and had just put one in his mouth when he caught a glimpse of a motorcycle speeding out of the building from a hole.

In the rider’s arms was a black leather case.

Having experienced such an incident once before, Li Yan was about to give chase but hesitated. He now harbored no doubts about the intelligence of the living dead. Was it possible that this was a ploy to draw him away?

Gunshots resounded through the desolate building, signaling that Song Zuo was also embroiled in a tough fight and had no time to attend to the motorcycle.

“Forget it, let it be dangerous,” he muttered.

Without further hesitation, Li Yan steeled himself, “Don’t focus on Song Zuo. Chase after whatever is on that motorcycle.”

…

Song Zuo clenched his teeth, two bleeding bullet holes in his leg. Not far from him in the shadows, a man encased in black armor shifted his blood-red eyes, fixing them on the motorcycle speeding away.

The Black Rider Ghost had originally been kept by Li Yan as a safeguard against Song Zuo’s potential betrayal. After all, it was easier for the old man to take a shot from behind on the battlefield than it was for him. But with a shortage of personnel, Li Yan couldn’t split the Black Rider Ghost in half to use it both ways. If the case contained the genetic samples he needed, that would save him the trouble of procrastinating, and he could just swallow them right up.

After making these arrangements, Li Yan, following the contents of the log, proceeded to the lower level where the samples were stored.

The lower section of the building, including the underground level where Li Yan currently stood, was relatively intact, even with some electrical equipment still operational. It was also a sealed space, and Li Yan was certain that Song Zuo outside the building couldn’t see him at that moment.

The space was vacant, and Li Yan faced a gear-shaped cyan gate, with numerous dark barrels pointing at him from every corner, surrounded by smooth metal passages. These weapon terminals, not maintained for decades, still functioned as originally intended.

Neither Gang Dou nor Ice Wall could withstand such an intense bombardment of bullets. The daunting dark gate that lay before him was enough to make anyone think twice.

Li Yan took a deep breath as a pure white figure rose behind him.

With crimson brows, the Feather cloak immaculate, a circle of purple lotuses surrounded him.

Suddenly, the projection of the Goddess Gu Huo surged from behind Li Yan towards the cyan gate.

A sea of fire erupted, countless metal shrapnel converging into a storm that swept everything, stuffing the entire corridor so tightly that any physical entity facing it would be torn to shreds.

Yet the projection of Gu Huo Bird passed through the metallic storm without the slightest hindrance!

Five,

Six,

Seven.

Li Yan loaded his shotgun while silently counting.

Suddenly, the Goddess Gu Huo, who had passed through the barrage, was replaced by Li Yan, brandishing a Tiger Head Great Spear in hand.

Wind Marsh!

Li Yan endured a few bullets. After the Gang Dou shattered, his back was a bloody mess. He charged to the gate, with the “Angry Shocker” pressed against it.

Boom!

The cyan gate burst open with holes of varying sizes; the smaller ones were the size of table tennis balls, and the larger ones were as big as apples.

The Tiger Head Great Spear cleaved through, opening a hole half a meter thick in the cyan gate.

Li Yan stepped in from outside the door, facing only a dozen or so solemn-looking khaki-clad living dead soldiers. The living dead troops that had crumbled along the way were mostly gathered here.

“Looks like you’re out of options,” said Li Yan, scanning the room.

“I’ll take a few things, ask you a few questions, and then leave. You’ll be able to save your lives. Think about it.”

Among these living dead, one holding a Chachik Military Sabre suddenly spoke, “Before the bitter winter, a German tried to make us bow. We said no. After the winter, a Ukrainian lad wanted us to bow. We still said no. Today, our answer remains the same.”

Li Yan nodded and lifted the spear tip, “So, there is no room for negotiation?”

Gunshots rang out again.

…

With blood and spent casings scattered all around, two deep knife wounds on Li Yan’s chest turned his vision dark. Besides himself, no one else on the underground level could still stand.

What darkened Li Yan’s mood was the excessive contact with the living dead’s blood, which worsened the radiation infection status in his body. The resistance of the Quanlang Sea Ghost could no longer support him, and the effectiveness of special recovery items like the Yuanmou Jujube was greatly reduced beyond the red spots on his body.

Li Yan had to take out the prepared Yunnan Baiyao and bandages to treat his wounds. The Tiger Head Great Spear at his feet was pinning down the soldier with the military sabre who had spoken earlier. He wasn’t completely dead yet and was merely staring at Li Yan with emotions that were indistinguishable from those of a living person.

Suddenly thinking of something, Li Yan looked down and asked, “I won’t ask about the German. Tell me the Ukrainian kid’s name, and I’ll make your death quick.”

The living dead turned away, ignoring Li Yan.

“Should I try to guess?” Li Yan’s face moved closer to him, “His name is Sergei, am I right?”

The living dead turned back in astonishment.

“Thank you, I got it,” said Li Yan.

Li Yan picked up a handgun and fired two shots into the eye sockets of the living dead. The gunshots rang for a long time.