Chapter 15: Reinforcements

Anna dashed up the stairs at full speed, eager to retrieve the “Supreme Yang Artifact” meant to counter the zombies.

“Unbelievably, these are the zombies from Wenwen’s country. Originally, in Russian, the term for these zombies was synonymous with ‘the undead,’ but in reality, they are entirely different in nature. Even though we interrupted the ritual in time and prevented the zombie’s final transformation, its flesh remains so tough... My axe can easily split small trees in a single blow, yet it couldn’t even break the bones in its shoulder.

This was merely a significantly simplified simulation controlled by the institute for research purposes. The true ‘anomaly’ will be far more terrifying. My strength and skill are still nowhere near enough. No wonder the teacher took away my spot in the sports meet. After returning to school, I must train twice as hard.”

After clearing her somewhat scattered thoughts, Anna found herself standing before the master bedroom door.

Just as she reached out to push it open,

*Click*—a sharp, crisp sound echoed.

That brief, piercing noise instantly instilled a deeper fear within her than the zombie downstairs ever had.

The sound drew Anna’s gaze toward the entryway corridor beside her.

She distinctly remembered the master bedroom being the innermost room of the foyer, with the door right at the corridor’s end.

Yet before her eyes, the corridor extended further into darkness, unlit by any strips of light, its end invisible.

And the sound had come from within that darkness.

As her fear grew with her fixed stare, Anna suddenly discerned something slowly emerging from the shadows, gradually revealing part of its form.

It was a horrifying entity with a tongue serving as its head, stepping forward as if alive, about to fully emerge from the darkness and reveal some unknown and dreadful final form.

*Smack!*

A hand rapidly struck Anna’s shoulder.

The sudden touch yanked her attention away from the darkness. In an instant, the corridor returned to normal—just three meters ahead was its end, marked by a vase.

“Anna, what are you standing there for?” came the voice of Gao Yuxuan, wearing gentlemanly glasses.

“Did you hear that strange sound just now?”

“No... Come on! The class monitor and Roddy can’t hold on much longer.”

Now was the critical moment of their mission. Gao Yuxuan had no time for distractions; wasting even a second meant risking their teammates’ lives.

He had run back to the mansion for a simple reason: his athletic ability ranked lowest among the four. If Anna couldn’t harm the zombie with her axe, his field knife was utterly useless.

However, Gao Yuxuan had come prepared, carrying a special item in his backpack. Originally meant to assist teammates medically, it might now serve as a weapon against the zombie.

Seeing Gao Yuxuan already rummaging through the master bedroom, Anna quickly followed.

Though the lingering fear from the clicking sound still gnawed at her tongue’s root, she pushed it aside, thinking of her best friends trapped in danger.

She kept reminding herself to trust the institute and believe this mission would trigger only a single anomaly.

Suppressing her fear, Anna pulled from her backpack a useful tool to combat the zombie—but it still required assembly before use.

While assembling the device, Anna noticed Gao Yuxuan holding a strange wooden box, inside which lay rows of neatly arranged silver needles.

“Is this... traditional Chinese medicine?”

Though not a native of China, Anna knew of the renowned practice. In a country where a major company nearly monopolized biomedical technology, affordable and effective traditional medicine clinics remained integral to the healthcare system, especially for ordinary citizens.

She had once experienced acupuncture herself—it had improved her physical condition in one session, helping her score well on subsequent physical exams.

Yet the silver needles in the wooden box were much longer than typical acupuncture needles; the longest could pierce an arm.

In Anna’s hand, the tools were three bottles of vodka consumed during a meal.

The first two were her favorite 60-degree spirits; the last was the strongest on the market, Spirytus (“Water of Life”), at a staggering 96 degrees—usually used in cocktails. Anna hadn’t expected this to be useful now.

“Let’s go!”

“Alright!”

As they pushed open the master bedroom door again, even from a distance they could hear the clashing of metal outside.

“Wenwen!”

Having personally struck the zombie, Anna knew how formidable it was. Concern for her best friend subdued her fear further; they would handle the zombie first before anything else.

Bursting out of the mansion at top speed, the scene before them froze them in place.

The earlier sounds of combat had ceased.

A newly silver-coated chainsaw lay beside the mansion’s main gate, but its crucial saw blade was broken—no longer functional.

Roddy lay on the ground more than ten meters away, clutching his right hand tightly against his left upper arm.

Three finger-width holes punctured the muscle, blackened and oozing blood and pus.

Yet on the front yard’s open ground was a severed arm wrapped in cloth sleeves, the cut rough and jagged, clearly severed by the chainsaw’s blade.

At the cost of damaging the chainsaw and injuring his arm, Roddy had actually sawed off one of the zombie’s arms.

The two who hadn’t witnessed the battle were utterly stunned by Roddy’s personal prowess.

In truth, only Roddy himself knew that this feat was possible because the class monitor had held the zombie’s attention, giving him a chance to wield the cumbersome chainsaw effectively.

Moreover, the class monitor’s combat skills were simply beyond that of a typical high schooler.

*Ahhh—*

Black mist spewed from the zombie’s mouth.

Losing an arm had only fueled its fury, marking Roddy—the chainsaw wielder—as its primary target.

The zombie’s cloth shoes planted firmly, it charged rapidly.

Roddy, just rising from the ground, seemed too slow to evade.

At the critical moment,

Something glowing flew from the gate, tracing a perfect arc before striking the zombie’s side.

With the shattering of glass and a terrifying roar, flames roared to life, engulfing the zombie as the fire greedily consumed oxygen.

A potent scent of alcohol quickly filled the air.

The makeshift molotov cocktail, made from alcohol, wasn’t fully effective—the flames only partially burned the zombie’s body.

The Yang-infused fire naturally counteracted the Yin zombie’s nature.

Although the pus oozing beneath the zombie’s skin dampened the flames, the burning before extinguishment was still quite effective.

Seizing the opportunity, another object was hurled—not at the zombie, but to Roddy, who was just getting to his feet.

*Clap!*

He caught it steadily.

It was a bottle of 60-degree vodka, the mouth not stuffed with any lit cloth.

Though below the medical alcohol standard of 70–75 degrees, it still functioned as a disinfectant.

Roddy immediately poured the liquid onto his arm wound.

The pain was intense.

The corrosive zombie toxin could not be so easily cleansed.

At that moment, a nearly sensationless, gentle hand rested on Roddy’s shoulder.

The touch seemed to transport him back to the last moment before the holiday, to when the class monitor had first found him and invited him to join the mission.

A soft voice spoke beneath the mask:

“Leave the rest to us. A zombie missing one arm is more than manageable. Don’t underestimate your teammates.”