Chapter 3

Half a year had passed.

I sat on the rooftop of an abandoned building, slicing the back of my left hand open with a dagger.

There was no pain, nor did any crimson blood flow out. What slowly oozed from the wound was a thick, viscous liquid, much like motor oil. Upon contact with the air, the muscle fibers around the edges of the cut began to writhe and contract at a visible rate. In less than ten seconds, the gash completely sealed shut, leaving behind nothing but a faint, pale gray scar.

I slid the dagger back into my boot and touched the left side of my chest.

It was dead silent.

My heart had stopped beating entirely half a month ago, and my pulse was gone.

The serum had preserved my memories and human mind, but it also fundamentally turned me into a corpse.

When I first escaped that transport truck, I thought that as long as I could mentally command the ordinary zombies, I could easily raise a massive army in the wasteland and immediately march back to Eden City. But I had underestimated the world outside.

I wasn't the only sentient zombie in the wasteland.

The real reason the elites of Eden City had been continuously sending out live humans was that they had long struck a deal with an "old resident" of the wasteland.

It was a heavily irradiated zombie. It had taken over the northern ruins, possessed an extreme territorial instinct, and commanded all the ordinary zombies within a radius of dozens of miles.

It only retained a fraction of human consciousness, but compared to the mindless infected, it was more than enough. It had established itself as the local warlord of this sector.

When I set up a temporary shelter out in the wasteland with those three survivors, that old monster instantly sensed me as an "intruder."

To sit on the throne of the horde, just throwing out a few mental commands wasn't nearly enough. They only bowed to the most primal law of physics—pure violence.

There were no shortcuts in that hostile takeover.

I walked right into the heart of the northern ruins. That old freak stood almost eight feet tall, and its speed was like a runaway sports car.

I couldn't control it with my mind; I had to settle it with my fists.

Fortunately, my brain was still intact. Using my profound knowledge as a bioengineer, the exact moment it lunged at me, I precision-calculated its anatomical weak points.

I shoved my entire right arm down its throat, and then, in front of thousands of surrounding zombies, I smashed its skull into pieces against the concrete floor.

That day, several thousand infected quietly bowed their heads to me.

I took over everything in its territory, and I also took over the "deal" originally tied to Eden City.

During this time, I still let the horde intercept the monthly quota of fifty live humans. But instead of letting them be eaten, I had them moved to a secure zone where the three original survivors I had saved explained the truth to them.

I settled them in a safe underground bunker and had them repair the radios and scrapped weapons scavenged from the junkyards.

Meanwhile, I began upgrading my army.

Although ordinary zombies lacked brains, they could still be trained. I singled out the largest ones with the most advanced mutations.

Using the wire mesh, scrap tires, and steel plates repaired by the survivors, I strapped crude armor onto these heavy infected.

The very first thing I taught them was: no roaring, no random biting, and hide behind cover to ambush like a human military unit.

Within a few short months, my forces were no longer a pack of beasts driven by instinct. They had become a heavy infantry unit—immune to pain, unafraid of bullets, and absolutely obedient to my tactical commands.

Once the army was fully formed, I set my sights on the Prometheus Mining Zone.

It was the largest open-pit mine sitting outside Eden City. Roughly eighty percent of the fuel used to power the city's generators, heating, and water circulation systems came from there. Without this mine, the lower districts of Eden City would freeze to death, and those suited board directors wouldn't even have a cup of hot coffee to sip on.

I wasn't in a rush to lay siege to the city. I wanted to force them out, to cripple their supply chain and gauge the city's breaking point.

I dispersed several thousand zombies into dozens of squads, completely severing all transport highways around the Prometheus Mining Zone.

Whenever Eden City sent out their mining convoys, we didn't clash head-on. We simply dug pits in the roads and rolled multiton boulders down to smash their lead vehicles.

The moment the vehicles stalled, zombies wearing Kevlar helmets would swarm out, wreck the engines, rip out the fuel lines, and then retreat.

At first, the Eden City elites tried to solve the issue with firepower. Wilson deployed two of his most elite armored convoys, armed with flamethrowers and heavy machine guns, to clear the mining zone.

But they weren't fighting mindless monsters anymore.

After two direct skirmishes, my army scored crushing victories.

They were finally terrified. They had discovered something that completely shattered their worldview: the horde blockading the mining zone knew how to execute tactical flanks and sabotage supply lines. There was absolutely a highly intelligent commander operating behind the scenes.

Energy reserves hit rock bottom, and the heating grid started shutting down. If fuel wasn't shipped in soon, full-scale riots would erupt inside the city.

Cornered and completely out of options, the Supreme Committee opened an emergency radio frequency and broadcasted on loop for three straight days, begging for parley.

Midnight, tonight. The abandoned steel smelting plant.

The night wind was biting cold, rattling the rusty iron sheets of the factory with loud metallic clangs.

I stood on the grated metal catwalk on the second floor, looking down at the empty clearing inside the workshop. The factory’s roof had collapsed ages ago, allowing pale moonlight to spill over the concrete floor strewn with motor oil and overgrowth.

The heavy crunch of tires rolling over gravel echoed from afar. Three black SUVs, with their blinding high beams on, slowly drove in through the entrance.

The SUVs parked in the center of the clearing. The doors swung open, and ten heavily armed bodyguards immediately jumped out.

Wearing bulky tactical vests and wielding rifles, they swept the dark factory floors nervously with their flashlight beams.

Only after confirming there were no zombies ready to pounce from the shadows did the rear door of the middle vehicle finally open.

Serena stepped out.

I hadn't seen her in half a year. She looked even more imposing than before.

Two bodyguards hauled a metal folding table and two chairs from the trunk, setting them up in the middle of the clearing before switching on a lantern.

Serena walked over and took a seat. Even in a dilapidated, danger-ridden factory like this, she still kept up her high-and-mighty facade, trying to dominate the space with her sheer presence.

"We're here," Serena called out, her voice steady as she stared into the deep darkness of the factory floor. "Eden City comes with sincerity. Show yourselves. I know you understand."

I stood in the shadows on the second floor, analyzing her face.

Five years ago, we shared the same compressed ration bar in the slums. Half a year ago, she gripped a stun baton and sent me to my absolute death.

I didn't step out right away. Instead, I simply radiated a psychic pulse into the surroundings.

All at once, the heavy, rusted metal doors surrounding the factory were forcefully pushed open.

The ten bodyguards flinched violently. A dozen rifle barrels whipped around, instantly redirecting all of their flashlight beams toward the noise.

Dozens of massive, hulking zombies slowly stepped out from the shadows.

They were wearing fragments of body armor salvaged from the corpses of human soldiers, tightening their grips on sharpened fire axes and heavy sledgehammers.

The bodyguards' hands began to tremble on their triggers.

Even Serena, who had maintained her icy composure, paled slightly. Her fingers subconsciously curled tightly against the edge of the table.

The horde seamlessly parted to the sides, leaving a wide, clear path leading straight to the metal folding table.

Step by step, I descended the metal staircase from the second floor. A gas mask adorned with black tinted goggles was strapped securely across my face, completely concealing my identity.

Even Serena wouldn't be able to recognize me by appearance.

The bodyguards’ gun barrels instantly snapped toward me.

I didn't even shoot them a glance. Walking over to the folding table, I pulled back the chair opposite Serena and sat down.

The distance between us was less than three feet.

I knew exactly what she was thinking right now. Sitting directly in front of her was the most powerful Zombie Warlord across the entire wasteland.

It wore human clothes, understood military deployment, and even knew how to sit down for a negotiation. To her, this completely shattered common sense.

Serena took a deep breath.

"The blockade on the Prometheus Mining Zone has severely affected the operations of Eden City. I’m not sure what kind of grudge you had with the previous Warlord, but since you’re calling the shots now, we can renegotiate the terms. In the past, we provided fifty humans per month as an exchange."

She paused for a second before throwing out her bargaining chips:

"To show our sincerity, as long as you pull your forces from the mining zone immediately, Eden City is willing to raise the stakes. One hundred live humans every month. You can even choose the ratio of gender and age."

Beneath the mask, I almost burst into laughter. One hundred living breathing people... from her mouth, it sounded just like she was bartering over a hundred tons of coal.

I slowly raised my right hand, reaching for the clasp on the back of my gas mask.

With a crisp click, the latch released.

Gripping the edge of the mask with one hand, I ripped it clean off my head and casually tossed it onto the metal table.