Run?! That was Chen Fan’s first instinct. Fan’d done it before, every time this dream began. The zombie was slow, clumsy, never able to catch him. But running had only ever led to him losing consciousness and waking up. This time, Chen Fan decided on something different. “I’m not running anymore.” With a confidence that bordered on arrogance, Chen Fan rolled up his sleeves. It’s just a dream, he thought. What does it matter if I get bit? If I die in here, maybe I’ll just wake up faster. With that, Chen Fan took a decisive step forward, closing the distance to the zombie. “My grades in school might be crap, but my Blood Qi Value is 0.8. My strength and speed should be higher than the average man from my old life. Why should I be afraid of one zombie?” According to the Global Wudao Arts Lianmeng, a Level 1 martial artist had a Blood Qi Value of 1.5 and a Combat Power Index of 150. By those metrics, Chen Fan was practically a half-trained martial artist. And while his performance in practical combat class was poor, leaving him with only a few simple fighting techniques, it did nothing to dampen his current bravado. “Wind-Spirit Kick!” Chen Fan shouted the name of a technique from a novel he’d read in his past life. Fan broke into a short sprint, then launched a powerful kick straight into the tall zombie’s chest. The zombie stumbled back several steps. The heavy impact threw its clumsy body off balance, and it crashed to the ground on its back. A perfect, size 41.5 shoe print was stamped on its tattered uniform. “Looks like that’s all you’ve got.” Landing the blow sent Chen Fan’s confidence soaring. Fan saw the uniformed zombie struggling to get back up and moved in to finish the job. Chen Fan rained two bare-fisted punches onto the zombie’s face. It felt like smashing his hand against a dried coconut shell, and a sharp pain shot up his arm. Grimacing, Chen Fan scanned the area for a weapon. A few meters away, he spotted a stone the size of a watermelon. Fan snatched it up and hefted it over the tall zombie’s head. “In the movies, the head is always the weak spot. This should work…” Muttering under his breath, Chen Fan brought the stone down with all his strength. Crack. The crisp sound of a breaking nose bone echoed in the silence. The watermelon-sized stone was now lodged in the zombie’s face. Its body twitched twice, then went completely still. “It’s done…” Chen Fan waited until he was certain the zombie was dead before collapsing onto the ground, taking a deep, ragged breath. Fan had to admit, this dream was terrifyingly vivid. Fan could even hear his own heart hammering against his ribs. “Still not waking up…” Fan muttered to himself and was about to push himself to his feet. Just then, the corpse of the tall zombie began to crumble. In a matter of seconds, it weathered away like ancient rubble, dissolving into dust. From within the disintegrating remains, wisps of black smoke, thin as threads, steamed forth. They shot forward like arrows, burrowing viciously into Chen Fan’s chest. “Ugh!” Chen Fan froze. Before he could react, he felt a searing heat spread from his chest as a flood of fragmented memories, vivid as a film, flashed through his mind. A young man’s voice. “What do you want to do after graduation?” Another, full of hope. “Join the base defense team.” “I heard the training is brutal. Dangerous, too.” A cheerful laugh. “It’s fine. That’s always been my dream.” A new scene. A stern, official voice. “From this day forward, you are a member of the 1359th base defense team, No. YH48549.” The young man’s voice, now bursting with pride. “Yes, sir! I won’t let you down!” The stern voice again, lecturing. “Breathing Techniques and Body Refining Techniques. Practice them when you eat, when you sleep, even when you go to the toilet! The stronger you are, the better your chances of survival when you encounter the foreign monsters.” “Understood, sir!” Panic. The sounds of battle. An officer shouting. “Team 2! Where is Team 2? Team 3… dammit, is everyone dead? Halt! Who are you?” The young man’s voice, strained. “No. YH48549, sir!” “What are you doing here? What’s your unit?” “Reporting, sir, Team 7.” “Get your captain to report to me, now!” A painful pause. “Reporting… sir. The captain and his men… they’re all dead. I’m the only one left from Team 7.” A cascade of broken images. The base entrance, breached. Foreign monsters swarming everywhere. A creeping, dark fog. A final, terrified gasp. “That’s… what is that…” Chen Fan slowly opened his eyes, a profound sorrow clouding his gaze. It was as if he’d just finished watching a long, tragic movie. The protagonist was a tall, handsome teenager. The first half was slow, filled with scenes of his painstaking training. But the second half had been relentlessly heavy. One brutal battle after another. Every fight brought more blood and death. One by one, the teenager’s companions fell around him. The sky in those memories was a perpetual, desolate gray, the air thick with sadness and pain. The final scene was fixed on the broken walls of a city, the sky choked with terrifying, alien monsters as a vast layer of dark fog swept over everything. An entire world on the brink of being engulfed by darkness. The sheer despair and hopelessness of it all was so palpable that even Chen Fan, a mere spectator, was deeply moved. “What the hell did this guy go through before he died?” Chen Fan whispered to himself. There was no doubt. The memories he had just witnessed belonged to the tall zombie he had just killed. It was a life story that played out like an apocalyptic film.

Chapter 3: No More Running