"Why did I absorb his memories just by killing him? Is it because this is a dream?" Questions swirled in Chen Fan's mind. Unfortunately, there was no one here to answer them. Fan would have to find the answers himself. Chen Fan gathered his thoughts and began walking through the barren wilderness. Soon, a few more zombies shambled into view. Their clothes were little more than dirty, tattered rags, and one wore a yellow helmet on its head. They looked far more pathetic than the uniformed zombie he had first encountered. This time, Chen Fan felt no fear. Fan charged straight for the one in the yellow helmet. In a single fluid motion, he lunged forward, twisted his arm, and snapped the creature's neck. Fan froze for a moment, watching as the zombie's head tumbled to a stop at his feet like a kicked-in football. Fan looked down at his own hands in disbelief. "When did I become… so strong?" Chen Fan replayed the sequence of moves in his mind. It was as if he'd performed them countless times in real combat, a brutal instinct he hadn't known he possessed. That level of precision and ruthlessness was something he'd never imagined himself capable of. "Could it be because I absorbed the uniformed zombie's memories?" Chen Fan reasoned. Before its death, that zombie had been a combatant at a place called Beiyang Bastion. While not exceptionally strong, he had survived many battles and possessed extensive combat experience. Chen Fan had absorbed his memories, and with them, a portion of his skills. "It's almost unbelievable…" Chen Fan sighed. "To gain a lifetime of experience so easily… If only this weren't a dream." But because it was a dream, any impossibility felt strangely mundane. Fan was fully aware that he was dreaming, yet he couldn't seem to wake up. Just then, the zombie he had killed began to weather and dissolve. The same thread of black smoke coiled from its body and seeped into Chen Fan. Fan hurriedly processed the influx of memory. This time, the results were disappointing. The helmeted zombie had been an ordinary plumber before he died, and his memories held little of interest to Chen Fan. The only valuable scrap of information was that he, like the uniformed zombie, had supposedly come from the same place: Beiyang Bastion. "Looks like I need to find this Beiyang Bastion," he thought. "Maybe the answers to this dream are there." Fan was beginning to treat this dreamscape like an open-world RPG. Hunting zombies offered experience for his "upgrades" and clues to the next objective. Fan had no idea where the clues would lead, nor did he particularly care. Fan was simply killing time, trying to make this nightmare a little more interesting and a little less torturous. "If I want to level up faster, I need to hunt combat-type zombies. Their memories are more useful." "And distinguishing them is simple enough—just look at their clothes." With his mind clear, Chen Fan quickened his pace and began to hunt more selectively. Fan ran across the wilderness for some time before he spotted another one, dressed in the same kind of defense team uniform as the first. Unconcerned with injury or even death, Chen Fan charged without hesitation. This one seemed more advanced than the last; it clutched a weapon. It was a meter-long, rusty iron rod with a cracked tip, its original form impossible to discern. The zombie saw Chen Fan and let out a guttural growl, slowly raising the iron rod to strike. Chen Fan ducked nimbly under the blow, closing the distance and driving a sharp elbow into the zombie's throat. The crunch of breaking bone was sickeningly clear. The zombie's head snapped back at an unnatural angle. Chen Fan sent it sprawling with a single punch, snatching the iron rod from its grip and driving the point down through its skull. The battle was over. As the zombie's body began to weather, a thread of black smoke bled from the corpse and into Chen Fan. "Beiyang… falling… dead… doomsday… ember…" Chen Fan slowly opened his eyes. This time, the memory absorption granted him a wealth of skill and experience with a spear, but the rest was a confusing jumble. Chen Fan guessed the man had been insane before he died. Flashing images of bizarre monsters flickered through his mind, and the memories were drenched in an overwhelming sense of despair. Chen Fan sorted through the new information. Fan picked up his new weapon—the iron rod, or rather, the broken spear—and prepared to move on. But at that moment, a muffled sound filled his ears. With that sound, the world around him began to warp and dissolve. A door slammed, jolting Chen Fan awake. Fan struggled to open his eyes, pushing himself up from a yoga mat on the floor. A clear, cold female voice cut through the quiet from outside his room. "Dinner is ready! How long are you going to stay cooped up in there?"

Chapter 4: A Dead Man's Strength