Chapter Five: A Shot to the Head

The iron gate slammed shut with a deafening clang as Tang Tianjie forcefully closed it. The noise was so loud that it was certain to attract a swarm of zombies. Indeed, almost immediately, the sound of rotting claws scraping against the metal could be heard from outside.

“Foolish!” thought Chu Qingfeng, the psychologist, inwardly cursing.

Mu Bai, who had faded into invisibility, silently observed everyone’s reactions. In his assessment, the fortunate young man who had surpassed human limits—so lucky it was as if he had the template of a protagonist—deserved a slight downgrade in his rating. This did not mean Tang Tianjie’s talent was lacking, of course.

Luck was a bug-like gift, a destiny born from talent and wishes. What would it bring?

“Ugh!” The girl of unknown true name, Ye Li, pressed her hand over her eyepatch and lapsed into another fit of adolescent delusion. “Has the Black Goat of the Woods polluted this world? Are those outside the myriad offspring birthed by the Dark Goddess of Harvest? The filth of the world—only the raging flames of Hell’s red lotus can cleanse it all…”

“Shut up!” Tang Tianjie roared, his expression dark.

He realized how poorly he had just acted.

It was a terrible performance.

As the leader of the group, behaving this way was clearly unfit. To see oneself as the leader was not arrogance—it was the natural self-assurance of someone who, from childhood, had experienced countless successes, possessed the capital, held social standing at the top, and was in their energetic twenties. Such people radiate confidence.

Even in an unfamiliar setting among strangers, they would instinctively regard themselves as superior.

It was a deeply ingrained, almost innate, upper-class, leadership temperament.

In Tang Tianjie’s eyes, Chu Qingfeng could serve as a strategist, an analyst of intelligence; Li Changxin was consigned to the harem; Yan Luo, the cold and expressionless one, could be recruited as a subordinate—calmness was a rare virtue. The others did not even warrant his attention as an elite.

Suddenly, everyone’s phones started to vibrate.

Many jumped in fright.

Unperturbed, Yan Luo picked up his phone and saw a line of text appear on the screen: “Level 1 Zombie Apocalypse Survival World. Main mission: survive for two days. In two days, a return portal will appear at your current location.”

“You may earn the following titles in this world—”

“Zombie Hunter: Eliminate 10 zombies.”

“Meat Mincer: Kill 100 zombies with a blade.”

“Nemesis of the Dead: Defeat a mutant zombie mini-boss.”

…

“Titles of the same system will be automatically replaced by higher-level ones. In each world, you may only earn one title.”

The guide, Mu Bai, spoke, his voice emerging from the void:

“In every inner world, the central intelligence will assign a main mission. Should you fail… well, you can try and see what happens. Of course, the rookie mission is merely to survive two days, with no penalty. As for the title missions, fulfill the requirements and you’ll earn the corresponding title.”

“Ever played Honor of Kings? Consider titles to be like skins in the game. Some special titles look cool, and they also provide a modest boost to your abilities.”

“Complete the main mission and, upon return, you’ll receive bio-energy and gene points. The former is a currency used in the Dream Space; the latter acts like a combination of attribute and skill points in a character template, used to unlock and upgrade genes.”

“Time flows differently in inner worlds and the surface world. Supposedly, the higher the world, the slower the time passes compared to lower worlds. The surface world is unique—two days in a level-one world may only be a few minutes in reality.”

“This is your first adventure—starting off strong could dramatically alter your future. Killing zombies is beneficial, and slaying a zombie boss brings great rewards.”

“You could just hide for two days, but how you proceed…” Mu Bai’s voice faded away.

Tang Tianjie, the man blessed with superhuman luck, pondered and said, “It seems we must go out and fight, at least to earn a decent title. Staying here may seem safe, but if a zombie boss arrives, the iron gate might not hold.”

“However, before facing the zombies, we need weapons.”

“Well said,” Chu Qingfeng added. “Without abilities like inner force or true qi from martial arts novels, as ordinary people, the difference between fighting barehanded and wielding even a simple knife is immense.”

Tang Tianjie was annoyed at Chu Qingfeng’s interjection, seeing it as a challenge to his authority as group leader.

“Let’s search the villa.”

Yan Luo quietly examined his own talent, confirming that the Heartless Puppet could only absorb extremely intense emotions. In that brief moment when the door had been flung open, three of the nine newcomers had radiated strong fear, Li Changxin had exuded madness which spiked twice, but now the sensations had faded.

Heartless Puppet

Fear: 6 points

Madness: 2 points

Far from the hundred points needed to craft a Level 1 Personality Mask.

He did not experience emotion, only stored it.

The villa courtyard was quite spacious. Yan Luo entered the building and went upstairs—on the second floor, in one room, he found a fire axe. He also picked up a plastic slipper, testing the sharpness of the axe blade, when Chu Qingfeng entered.

Yan Luo could sense a certain goodwill from the psychologist.

Of course, this goodwill was not of the unspeakable kind that a man feels for another man, but rather the benevolent impulse to seek allies in a dangerous environment. As a psychologist who had surpassed human limits, Chu Qingfeng clearly understood the value of a calm companion in a perilous world.

Of the nine, the most dangerous was not the one who looked like a street thug, festooned with earrings and nose rings, but the girl lost in adolescent delusions—for with the whims of chuunibyou, one could never predict her next move.

To be honest, Yan Luo did not like Chu Qingfeng—if he was even capable of liking anyone.

The reason was simple: Chu Qingfeng’s emotional fluctuations were too stable, making it difficult to harvest the emotions needed to craft a personality mask.

“A fire axe? Not bad—one of the best weapons against zombies,” Chu Qingfeng praised. “Zombies aren’t human—they don’t die instantly from a knife to the heart. The damage from small blades is limited. The fire axe, being heavy, delivers impact. Zombie bones are less dense than human bones. Swords, knives, and daggers can’t shatter their skeletons and cripple them; whereas, compared to a heavy blunt weapon like a sledgehammer, the fire axe is lighter, consumes less stamina, and has a sharp edge to decapitate a zombie or cut open devices if needed.”

How does one win favor at the outset? The simplest method: offer genuine praise.

Of course, it must be sincere, not exaggerated or false, or it would only arouse suspicion.

In fact, when Yan Luo first described himself as “surpassingly calm,” Chu Qingfeng immediately praised him: Calmness is an excellent trait. Now, as he commended Yan Luo’s choice of weapon, the psychologist’s eyes, behind his glasses, subtly studied Yan Luo’s gaze.

The eyes are the windows to the soul.

Human eyes do not move randomly; they subconsciously reveal inner emotions. By reading the subtle shifts in gaze and pupil dilation, Chu Qingfeng could usually discern the thoughts of others.

But this time, he was disappointed.

From Yan Luo’s eyes, he saw no joy, no pride at being praised, not even the slightest ripple of feeling.

“Incredible! Truly, you are calm beyond the human limit!”

Feeling a slight sense of defeat, Chu Qingfeng steeled himself. As a psychologist who had broken past human boundaries, Yan Luo was the greatest challenge he had ever encountered. Chu Qingfeng pondered what to say next to improve their rapport, hoping ultimately to win him over.

Suddenly, a hand reached from behind and landed on his shoulder.

Instantly, the psychologist’s body went rigid. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a swollen, deathly pale face, with most of the gums exposed beyond sausage-like lips, rotting skin, and a nose drooping along the cheek—a zombie pressed close.

“Ha~~~”

The stench of decay wafted from the zombie’s mouth, brushing against Chu Qingfeng’s ear and making his skin crawl.

Time seemed to slow. Chu Qingfeng’s pupils dilated, his chest caving in with terror as he gasped, his face contorting in horror. At the same time, Yan Luo’s Heartless Puppet talent registered a barrage of alerts.

Fear +1, +1, +1, +1, +1…

Yan Luo watched serenely as the zombie pressed closer, its mouth opening suggestively near Chu Qingfeng’s ear, while the fear readings soared. Just as the zombie was about to bite, Yan Luo lunged forward and jammed the plastic slipper into its protruding teeth.

With his other hand, he swung the fire axe. With a resounding crack, the blade smashed into the zombie’s forehead.

The human skull is tough, especially at the forehead, but zombie infection corrodes bone, making it brittle. With a single forceful blow, the axe split the skull, and the impact blasted the zombie’s head apart.

A perfect headshot.

If this were a normal person shot in the head, blood would have sprayed everywhere. But this was a zombie, and the axe first split the skull, then the blunt force shattered it.

A noxious tide erupted behind Chu Qingfeng—a deluge of putrid, cloudy fluid, congealed brain matter, yellow-white pus, and gelatinous lumps, all frothy and viscous—splattering over the once-dignified psychologist’s head and face.

The scene was reminiscent of a bucket of kitchen slop, blended with the fermenting dregs of a methane pit and the reeking sludge of a sewer, all dumped onto someone’s head, thoroughly drenching him.

With most of its head blown off, the zombie continued to gnaw on the plastic sandal as its body slumped against Chu Qingfeng’s back, then slid to the floor. The psychologist, now drenched, stood frozen as if struck by an acupoint.

His mouth hung open, his expression fixed in shock.

While Yan Luo calmly wiped the axe clean with a bedsheet, a prompt appeared: You have sensed a powerful emotion:

Confusion +1, +1, +1…

It took Chu Qingfeng over thirty seconds to recover from his daze, providing eight full points of confusion. Finally, he stirred, wiped the indescribably colored goo from his face, and absentmindedly smacked his lips, as if tasting it.

Instantly, his expression twisted in horror.

“Ugh…”

You have sensed a powerful emotion:

Disgust +3

Shame +1