It slamd on the brakes and ca to a sudden stop, twisting its monstrous body and roaring furiously. The pitch-dark world swirling around it left it disoriented, with no direction or target!
"Perfect opportunity!"
Ghost Head yelled excitedly, leading Brother Shi and Crooked Neck as they charged ahead in a desperate sprint for their lives! At the sa ti, he shouted to Snapper, who had just climbed out of the massive truck up ahead: "Snapper, is the truck still usable?"
Snapper snapped out of it, a grin spreading across his face as he hurriedly jumped into the driver’s seat, fumbling to get the ignition going. The engine roared to life, and as he pressed down on the accelerator, the truck lurched forward a short distance—proving it was still operational!
He stuck his head out of the window and yelled back to Ghost Head and the crew, "It’s good to go!"
"Hurry up and drive over to pick us up! Yong, stick with us and get in the truck!"
Yong stowed his Tianguang away, expressionless as he followed Ghost Head and the others. The three exchanged glances filled with unspoken understanding, their faces lighting up with aningful smiles. Escaping from the jaws of a Level 7 zombie—despite not having played a major role—they never dread of living through such an experience. This was more impactful than winning a five-million-dollar jackpot before the Apocalypse!
It was the kind of story you could brag about for a lifeti!
To put it bluntly, the thrill of escaping death made all their prior worries vanish!
But their death-defying escape wasn’t quite complete...
Snapper pulled his head back inside the truck, a grin lingering on his face, though it quickly faded. His gaze shifted to the sack of food sitting beside him. Was this ager ration enough to sustain them on the journey to White Wing?
Snagging this food was pure luck, not skill. Could they rely on skill next ti? The sack contained enough for five people to eat maybe two als—but only with extre frugality. A slight indulgence ant each person wouldn’t even have half a stomachful!
If it were just one person... the food would be more than sufficient.
Moreover, sothing even more valuable lood: the Level 4 Evolution Crystal that had dropped earlier, along with scattered Yajin coins—easily five or six hundred of them!
Such a hefty amount; not once had he co across so many Yajin coins during this Apocalypse! These Yajins alone could afford him a lifeti of indulgence at White Wing Base!
Snapper wasn’t a saint; he was, at his core, a sleazebag—an ex-patron of brothels who had thrived in the depraved, violence-ridden Shelter Area, pursuing nothing but pleasure brought by won!
This stash of Yajin could drown him entirely in debauchery!
Splinters of shattered glass rattled off the hood, while sharp, piercing zombie shrieks resounded like ghostly death echoes reverberating through the hollow air.
In the ruins far off, greenery engulfed towers into what seed like a Green Mountain, and greed quietly veiled Snapper’s heart!
Just like skyscrapers swallowed whole in sprawling foliage!
The blood trickling down from his forehead lent his face an extra layer of savagery. In that mont, the look in his eyes said it all!
Through the cracked rear-view mirror, Snapper glanced at the three figures trailing behind him. Silently, he pressed down the accelerator. The truck inched forward, gears shifted, tires screeched, and it began accelerating—steadily distancing Ghost Head and his crew.
The group faltered for a mont. Brother Shi’s expression shifted dramatically, breaking into a furious scowl: "What the hell are you doing, you bastard?!"
"Snapper, you motherf—!"
"Get the hell back here!"
They scread at him, but Snapper ignored their frantic cries. The truck didn’t slow down; instead, it roared ahead faster and faster!
The trio panicked, firing their Tianguangs at the massive vehicle. But their aim was laughably poor—despite landing a few hits, the truck kept speeding away unhard, Snapper untouched.
"Yong! Quick... take him out! Snapper’s ditching us!"
Realizing their shots wouldn’t land, Ghost Head turned to Yong. Yong tilted his head, looking first at Snapper’s rapidly fleeing truck and then Ghost Head, his expression betraying mild confusion.
"Shoot... shoot him! If he drives off, we’re dead!"
Brother Shi pleaded desperately as well. Yong scanned back and forth before slowly raising his gun. He moved with robotic precision, a gesture that seed less human and more machine-like. It made the others wonder if peeling off his skin would reveal wiring underneath.
"Yes! Shoot!"
Watching the truck draw farther and farther away, Brother Shi’s voice grew increasingly frantic!
As his words fell, a streak of orange-red laser fired straight out of Yong’s Tianguang barrel—cutting unwaveringly toward Snapper’s speeding truck!
From his view, Snapper felt exhilaration boil within him, his grin widening uncontrollably. His mind swirled with drunken fantasies: the White Wing Base, nights of reckless indulgence, losing himself in pleasure. Even if humanity was dood, at least he’d savor his fill! No regrets ever!
But the more he reveled in this thought, the harder it beca to suppress that smile. Until, in the blink of an eye, he noticed—the windshield, cracked and worn, suddenly bore a smoldering hole at its center, flanked by streaks of blood. Snapper paused, puzzled. Where had this blood co from?
Before realization could strike, his thoughts stalled altogether, ti seemingly slowing to a crawl. The vision in his head of carefree debauchery lingered still.
"This... what..."
Snapper’s words ca out strained, painfully so. At this mont, comprehension dawned. He tilted his head up slightly, the faint signals in his nervous system identifying warmth on his forehead. His smile froze in place.
Slowly, his hand raised—trembling, laborious. It wasn’t deliberate; his arm felt leaden, weighed down by sothing inexplicably heavy. With great difficulty, Snapper managed to lift his right hand to his forehead. He wiped at it, revealing fresh blood. Thick. Copious. Interlaced with coagulated chunks.
Snapper’s mind grew hazy, fragnts of clarity dissipating as it dawned on him: Yong... the man who could nail a speeding Level 7 zombie with pinpoint precision—of course, he wouldn’t miss a human like Snapper.
The imagined scenes in his brain collapsed like a house of cards, leaving behind the vast emptiness of regret.
His body’s weight intensified; his movents beca futile. Ultimately, Snapper slumped lifelessly over the steering wheel, closing his eyes forever. Without him at the helm, the massive truck’s pace gradually slowed to a halt.
"Nice shot!"
Ghost Head exclaid as he saw the truck stop, realizing Yong’s bullet had hit its mark! Brother Shi and Crooked Neck were montarily stunned speechless by Yong’s accuracy. It only just occurred to them: had Yong ever missed a single shot?
"Sharpshooter!"
Earlier, they dismissed Yong’s boast—"My aim is great"—as exaggeration. But now? There was no overstatent—if anything, it was understatent.
As the group marveled over Yong’s marksmanship, a deafening roar split the air—the Level 7 zombie, previously blinded by Yong’s expert shots, suddenly erupted in a frenzied howl!
The trio whipped around, their faces drained of color. What t their gaze was the grueso sight of the zombie... entirely transford.
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