You were supposed to hoard supplies, why the heck did you hoard zombies!

Strangely, the child, who appeared to be in his early teens, didn't show much fear of Zhang Ye, or perhaps his desire for something had suppressed the fear.

He leaned against the wall, looking up at Zhang Ye with a gaze filled with yearning for something.

He had witnessed the scene just now.

But he didn't make a sound.

Gao Feng lowered her head and walked over to the corner where a body lay, frowning immediately upon seeing the skin that had begun to turn black.

"More than two days,"

she whispered quietly.

Zhang Ye nodded and then turned his gaze back to the child in front of him, suddenly feeling an inexplicable oppression that made it difficult for him to breathe.

A Hunter had already tactfully brought over some food.

"Hungry?"

he asked, bending over to look at the boy.

The boy nodded, his eyes already fixated on the food in front of him.

His clothes seemed too large for him, making the shirt look like a cloak draped over his thin, angular body that swayed inside it.

It was like those bamboo clothes racks one often saw on rooftops.

They would topple over as soon as the wind blew.

A can that had already been opened was promptly handed to him.

The boy who had just seemed so well-behaved immediately changed demeanor, snatching the can from the Hunter's hand and devouring its contents, occasionally casting a fierce glance around him.

Yet, when he encountered the eyes of these strangers, his expression quickly softened, showing a trace of gratitude.

As he was eating, he suddenly heard the person in front of him ask quietly:

"Want more?"

Without any hesitation, the boy nodded vigorously, "I do."

"How about I take you to a new place?"

"There's a big bed for you to sleep in too,"

Zhang Ye made an effort to soften his expression as he squatted down and looked into the boy's eyes.

But the little boy blinked and responded, "Are you a human trafficker? Mom said that children without moms get sold by traffickers to factories to work."

Everyone burst into a mix of laughter and sighs upon hearing his words, and one of the Hunters, in a laid-back manner, stepped forward, patted the boy's head and laughed:

"What nonsense are you spouting, kiddo?"

"You're lucky to have run into our boss. Now say 'thank you, big brother.'"

The other Hunters behind him laughed at this, their tension since arriving here easing up quite a bit, although they still felt a pang of sadness looking at the child.

They had all been handpicked by the company from below.

They had lived through zombies, hunger, wild dogs, and various conflicts with other survivors over a morsel of food or some clean water.

The past now seemed like a dream, even though just six months had passed; it was all so surreal, almost like an impossible fantasy, and sometimes they couldn't help but wonder if the peaceful life they remembered was just their imagination.

Yet this child, still looking so innocent, had reawakened in everyone the memories of a once happier life.

Some had been fathers, yet lost their children.

Others were still children themselves.

Only seventeen or eighteen years old.

Zhang Ye's actions had undoubtedly turned the fear these people felt towards him into loyalty, and gave those lurking in the shadows a glimpse of new hope.

When they came out of the low shanty, unexpectedly many survivors with fearful expressions had gathered outside.

Their fear was naturally directed at the well-armed Hunters.

The rifles they held were the real deterrents.

Everyone knew the power of a gun. Discover exclusive content at My Virtual Library Empire

Moreover, nowadays, anyone who could swagger through the streets with a gun was no good samaritan; each one was known to kill without blinking.

Who could tell whether these people might lash out over some small matter?

Those who were injured were just gritting their teeth and enduring.

It's all down to who has the tougher fate.

The expressions of the five Hunters, who had just relaxed, tensed up instantaneously, as the number of people in front of them kept increasing. In just a few minutes, seven or eight more individuals emerged from the narrow alleys.

Although there was fear in their eyes as they looked over, there was even more desire for food.

And beneath those two emotions, a hint of greed was hidden.

They had seen everything in the truck.

Pairs of eyes uniformly turned towards the boy who was voraciously gobbling up canned food, their Adam's apples involuntarily bobbing, their cracked lips occasionally licked by the tip of their tongues.

Yet Zhang Ye showed no signs of panic, his calm gaze sweeping over each person in the crowd.

He was no longer the fresh graduate he had been half a year ago.

Gao Feng also drew the pistol strapped to her thigh, standing quietly in front of him, her indifference laced with a hint of vigilance as she observed the crowd that had come to a halt around them.

It was then that Liang Zhijie suddenly stepped forward and shouted,@@novelbin@@

"My name is Liang Zhijie!"

"I live in the shack at number three hundred and forty-one!"

As he yelled, his eyes darted around the crowd, searching for something, and soon settled on a middle-aged man standing in the middle of the crowd on the right side.

"Old Huang!"

"Huang Zitao!"

"At last, I've found you!"

"Come here, over to my side, hurry!"

The middle-aged man's face instantly took on an expression of astonishment, then he looked at the stranger with the clean face as though he couldn't believe his own eyes, "You, you're Old Liang?"

It wasn't that his eyesight was poor; it was simply because Zhang Ye had specially asked Liang Zhijie to wash his dirty face before leaving.

And he had changed into a few clean clothes to boot.

After all, his appearance, to some extent, represented the company's treatment of these workers—how could he continue to look like a beggar?

Liang Zhijie felt an indescribable sense of pride at that moment, yet still put on a surprised expression and said,

"What, you don't recognize me anymore?"

"Me, Liang Zhijie!"

"Old Liang!"

Huang Zitao was clearly still shocked, but around him, several incredulous voices began to rise,

"Is he really Liang Zhijie who lives at number three hundred and forty-one?"

"Doesn't look like it, does he?"

"So clean?"

The survivors living here were mostly older men, or men with families to support. Not to mention washing one's face—drinking water was rationed out by mouthfuls.

Let alone having any clean clothes.

Clothing was everywhere.

But because of this, it became one of the least valued resources by the scavengers.

After all, it took up space and wasn't worth much.

Bringing it back wasn't of much use.

How many pieces could one wear?

Thus, those who dared not venture outside had almost always only the clothes they wore.

The occasional pieces found in trash piles or houses were all used as mattress pads.

Or served some other purpose.

As for what they wore, it was either full of holes or barely more than strips of cloth.

A freshly washed uniform like Liang Zhijie's?

The people present had only seen such a thing in one place.

The Wanhao District government.