Chapter Thirty-One: The Mine Confrontation

NATO Standard Ammo’s firepower was still not fierce enough; these bullets were deadly to people, but clearly less effective against zombies. The zombies’ hardened skin provided too much defense, resulting in little damage. Yet the oddly handsome Chicago Typewriter’s true value now surfaced. This old weapon might lack in raw power, but its sticking force was immense—when its bullets struck, the zombies were nearly immobilized.

Meanwhile, as many players turned their MP5s in a coordinated volley, the mine entrance became a wall of lead, completely blocking off the horde. Unforgiven Shooter shouted furiously, emptying his magazine into the first zombie at the door.

At last, a bone-chilling wail echoed, and a stream of white digital light rose from the mine entrance.

System message:

“You’ve slain a zombie. All its current experience points are yours. Experience +22,211. Congratulations, esteemed player Unforgiven Shooter, you have leveled up successfully. Current level: 31.”

Unforgiven Shooter was wild with joy. “Fantastic!”

The other players, seeing someone dispatch such a powerful zombie, were instantly galvanized. Gunfire and spells erupted in a frenzy.

“Stop shooting, just run!” Wu Hua’s voice crackled over the radio. He had already reached the second tier of the bridge, looking down at the blaze of muzzles below.

But Unforgiven Shooter paid him no mind. He held his weapon, firing without a care. Ever since he joined Star Wars, when had he ever experienced such a rush? Seeing the experience points pour in, he was entirely lost to the thrill.

From his vantage point, Wu Hua saw everything clearly: Unforgiven Shooter was aiming exclusively at the zombies’ heads, green damage numbers of around -1500 popping up repeatedly. Occasionally, the oddly handsome Chicago Typewriter would produce a golden damage number of around -2000. Every bullet landed precisely between the zombies’ glowing red eyes, or dead center on their foreheads—there was no room for error.

“So that’s their weak point,” Wu Hua realized, his mind racing through complex calculations:

Unforgiven Shooter’s M249 was a top-tier weapon, with a muzzle energy of 1572 joules. Against ordinary people, it could unleash two-thirds of its full power; against zombies, only one-fifth. Yet those green -1500s revealed something: weak point damage could trigger the weapon’s full potential.

Following this logic, the oddly handsome Chicago Typewriter was no ordinary relic. If a top-tier weapon could hit for a golden -2000, then a bullet could inflict tenfold critical damage. But how many rounds had the Chicago Typewriter fired? The odds of a critical hit must be one in ten thousand.

He himself used the expensive AE rounds in his Desert Eagle, theoretically capable of dealing at least tenfold damage—hitting a vital point could mean 20,000 in one shot.

Of course, these were just theoretical figures. The actual effect was uncertain, and Wu Hua had no time to test. Unforgiven Shooter and Oddly Handsome were already being overwhelmed, too lost in their rampage to notice what was coming from behind.

At first, people had relied on the two powerful machine guns blazing away on the bridge, hiding behind them and firing at will. But the veterans knew those guns would jam or run out eventually—there are only so many magazines. Quietly, they began to fall back, and as their firepower waned, the zombies crept onto the bridge, bullets still thudding into their bodies.

After five volleys, Unforgiven Shooter and Oddly Handsome began to reload. Now the monstrous zombie charging them from the front was none other than the Matriarch, Murong Longcheng. Her defenses were much higher than the lesser zombies, and Oddly Handsome’s binding firepower was greatly diminished. As she drew closer, panic spread among the players, who scrambled up the bridge to escape.

“We’re done for,” Fly MM said, pointing below. “Big Brother Unforgiven, Big Brother Handsome…”

Wu Hua’s heart sank. There was no way they could escape now.

Unforgiven Shooter’s gun was still firing, the barrel scalding in his hands. As Murong Longcheng closed in, the faces of both gunmen grew grim—they hadn’t expected the zombie boss to be so resilient.

On the perilous bridge above the mountain stream, the two gunners stood alone in the center, fighting to the death, the rest of the bridge overrun by zombies.

“Ugly!” Unforgiven Shooter suddenly roared, “If we return to town, drinks are on me!”

Oddly Handsome paused, then understood—at their level, they could not let the zombies claim their experience. Death was preferable.

“When we get back, I’ll take you to Dreamstar for some fun with the prettiest girls—it’s my treat,” Oddly Handsome replied.

A wry smile touched Unforgiven Shooter’s lips, his eyes filled with heroic resolve. “Good brother, let’s go together. On my count—one, two, three…”

“One, two, three!”

At the center of the first bridge, the Matriarch was less than three meters away when the two men suddenly leapt sideways into the abyss below, guns blazing as they fell, trailing arcs of fire through the darkness—their final act was to take their own lives.

“Hahaha! Screw your mothers, you goddamn zombies, hahaha…” Their wild laughter echoed through the ravine, fading away.

Murong Longcheng was furious. She had lost half her HP, and the experience points she was about to seize had slipped through her fingers. The Qimen Company people were truly desperate.

This scene struck a chord with the warrior players on the bridge. Their charge skills could be used to escape, but the cooldown was a full minute—far too slow to outpace the zombies. Many realized that lagging behind was certain death. Someone shouted, “To the bitter end!” and a group of warriors surged onto the stone bridge, unleashing their combos in a brutal melee before one after another chose to leap into the chasm. The scene was both magnificent and tragic.

“Alas…” Dragonstar Wild sighed deeply. This mission had cost them dearly.

Murong Longcheng was grinding her teeth in rage. “You pigs—and that blue team of whores—just wait, I’ll strip your underwear off and then take my time with you, heh heh…” She nursed her perverse thoughts as she went.

By the eighth stone bridge, fewer than thirty players remained. SU20, a controller-type psychic, had also fallen. The environment offered little for him to manipulate. He didn’t choose suicide, instead attempting to destroy the bridge with his level 25 ultimate, “Telekinetic Blast.” The shockwave left only a crater in the bridge, not breaking it, and as he was about to try again, Murong Longcheng’s claw caught him on the shoulder and sent him flying from the bridge.

SU20 was with End of Days and Drifter in the Rivers and Lakes. Once SU20 fell, the other two didn’t fare any better. Most players were already exhausted; controllers were especially frail. When Drifter in the Rivers and Lakes was slashed across the chest by Murong Longcheng, he triggered his level 25 electric ultimate—“Split Lightning Grid.” A curtain of silver lightning swept across the stone bridge, passing through a string of zombies, damage values flashing: -1211, -1301, -1254…

But it was a drop in the ocean; area spells were no substitute for single-target might.

Drifter in the Rivers and Lakes’s final words before mutation were: “Damn it, who can escape a fate like this…”

The three healer girls in front heard this and could not help but double over with laughter. In that moment of mirth, the zombie horde surged forward, sweeping them away…