Chapter 117: The Burning of the Corpse Horde

Before the year 2055, rural populations still accounted for two-thirds of the national population—a vast number that, in the context of the apocalypse, translated into countless zombies. Yet, when it came to danger, the cities were far more perilous than the countryside. The massive concentration of people in urban areas was incomparable to the mere hundreds or thousands in rural villages.

Confronting the immense hordes of zombies in the city was undoubtedly a daunting task for the New City. However, dealing with the dispersed rural zombies, given New City’s current armed forces, was comparatively manageable.

In the Wangtian area, before the Wangtian Base was destroyed, it held an unchallenged dominance. Why hadn’t the base considered using the countryside as a breakthrough point? The reason was clear. Backed by the sprawling metropolis of Wangtian, with its seemingly inexhaustible resources, who would waste their efforts on the countryside? Only a few had ever targeted rural areas, and even then, it was limited.

Previously, scattered human settlements outside Wangtian had naturally flocked to the base under its overwhelming influence. Relying on a massive base was far better than staying in small enclaves, living in constant fear and never knowing where their next meal would come from. Compared with the minimum welfare guarantees offered by Wangtian Base, the choice was obvious.

At the time, Wangtian Base was indeed rich in supplies. Just the industrial town of Yanglin alone stored enough materials to sustain Wangtian’s consumption, not to mention the additional stock brought by the military. Had the influx of refugees not increased later, placing immense strain on the base, the plan for hunting operations might never have been launched.

Based on these reasons, Xie Han and his team easily concluded that many rural supplies had remained intact over the past three and a half years. Their goal was not food, but metals, chemical raw materials, small agricultural machinery, and even vehicles from wealthier villages.

The experimental base housed over fifty vehicles of various types. However, Xie Han believed that aside from ten trucks and twenty-plus transport vehicles, the remaining sedans were unsuitable for New City’s current use and remained parked in the base’s garage to save gasoline.

Zhuang Jiayuan was someone Xie Han held in high regard. After returning to the base with him, Xie Han arranged for Zhuang to assist Qi Feiwu at the civilian base to ease her workload. This was not out of concern for Qi Feiwu, but rather to train and cultivate talent to enhance New City’s management capabilities.

Regarding Qi Feiwu, Xie Han’s feelings were ambiguous. As a passionate young man, he admitted to harboring considerable affection for her and often fantasized about a closer relationship. Yet these were solitary musings—was this love? Xie Han dared not be sure. As a modern man, he held a subtle persistence and hope for love.

In the apocalypse, love seemed almost laughable, but Xie Han disagreed. Love always existed, at all times. Throughout history, countless poems have celebrated love; even amid wars and disasters, steadfast love still flourished.

What troubled Xie Han was his dual identity. He didn’t know if he belonged to the apocalypse or the modern world. Caught between these roles, should he cling to a singular devotion or navigate two emotional worlds?

In the modern world, few could meet Xie Han’s standards—perhaps only Zhou Ruomeng. But they were worlds apart, and before all this, Xie Han had been a mere drifter. How could he compare to Zhou, a proud woman managing a multinational corporation’s regional branch?

Regardless of whether Xie Han could untangle these relationships, the rural operation commenced as planned. The convoy formed for this mission was much larger than those for population searches: ten armored vehicles formed the core, accompanied by twenty weapon carriers, plus Xie Han’s command vehicle, constituting the hunting convoy’s firepower. Trailing behind were only ten heavy-duty Hercules trucks.

Xie Han didn’t want to bring more trucks nor was he overly conservative. As this was the first operation, it was mainly about reconnaissance and laying the groundwork—not about sweeping the countryside bare from the outset. Who could be sure the countryside was safe? Compared to cities, rural terrain was far more complex, demanding caution.

Operations at the experimental base centered on research, so only Xu Qiang was stationed there, sufficient to keep it running. Thus, as deputy commander, Amu accompanied Xie Han to serve as deputy officer of the hunting convoy and would command in Xie Han’s absence.

With satellite maps of Wangtian Province at his disposal, Xie Han couldn’t pinpoint every village but could identify larger towns and villages with populations over five thousand. Each time he gazed at the satellite images, he regretted not being Level 5—possessing real-time satellite maps would have erased his fear of zombies.

No villages existed within the military exclusion zone or its surrounding gravel terrain, which was uncultivable and devoid of settlements. Therefore, rural hunting had to occur at least a hundred kilometers away from the experimental base.

Xie Han had also considered striking towns, where supplies were far richer, but with only a hundred men, his courage faltered. It wasn’t that towns were undefeatable—he believed that once resource shortages were resolved, they would soon develop wide-area anti-zombie weapons, making urban zombie control easier.

But for now, the base was nearly destitute, forcing him to resist temptation.

After hitting the highway, Xie Han sat motionless in the command chair, eyes closed, searching for suitable targets. Small villages offered limited gains; large ones were beyond his current capacity. Thus, he sought mid-sized villages.

With time, populations had grown, and although many migrated to cities, more remained rural. Large villages of over ten thousand people had formed complex systems rivaling small towns.

“Let’s start here,” Xie Han decided after a long search. The chosen village, visible on the satellite map, was neither too large nor too small—about two to three thousand residents. The neatly arranged buildings suggested wealth, making it a tempting target. Crucially, only two small villages with populations of three to four hundred surrounded it. Even if gunfire attracted them, the total should not exceed five thousand—barely manageable.

The village was about two kilometers from the highway, connected by a secondary road. At the toll station linking these roads, only four or five zombies lingered, swiftly dispatched with bayonets to avoid alarming nearby villages.

When the convoy reached a safe distance, it halted.

To conserve ammunition, Xie Han instructed Amu, “Everyone knows how sensitive zombies are to sound. If we make enough noise, they’ll swarm out of the village recklessly. This trait is our advantage. Like when dealing with the lake, we dig a big pit for zombies to fall into. But we can’t replicate that method here—it’d take too long.”

Amu, following Chen Liu, had witnessed all kinds of scenes. Yet Xie Han’s recent tactics surprised many. His zombie-fighting strategies evolved constantly, resembling a form of special operations warfare.

Indeed, Xie Han’s approach was a variant of special operations, flexibly using available advantages to maximize zombie elimination.

Though the experimental base lacked napalm, gasoline reserves were substantial. Before departure, Xie Han loaded several large fuel drums with gasoline onto the convoy. Everyone assumed this was to prevent vehicles from running dry, but Xie Han’s real plan was to burn zombies.

Gasoline alone didn’t inflict severe damage, but in sufficient quantity, sustained burns could damage the zombies’ nerves and tendons. If zombies were like intricate machines, these tendons were their power source. Damaging them would immobilize the zombies, removing their threat. Continuous high heat could also cook their brains.

Gasoline alone wouldn’t suffice. Under Xie Han’s command, nearly all of the hundred men, except a dozen on guard, gathered dried grass, twigs, and fallen leaves from nearby fields and woods, laying a thick layer over a vast open area.

Unlike napalm, which instantly inflicts high heat and burns, gasoline lacked viscosity and immediate impact, necessitating kindling. Zombies stepping onto this gasoline-soaked brushwood would suffer prolonged burns. The large burning sea would deliver a deadly blow.

After an hour and a half of hard work, the men completed Xie Han’s preparations.

Before them lay an enormous stack of brushwood—a stark anomaly amid the lush greenery. But Xie Han had no worries; mindless zombies wouldn’t sense anything amiss and would charge forward blindly.

The fuel drums were unloaded from the heavy trucks and evenly poured over the brushwood.

Still, Xie Han deemed this insufficient. He brought along a few mines from the experimental base—anti-personnel mines, cluster mines, electromagnetic mines, high-explosive mines—deploying them behind the brushwood. Rural areas, he knew, harbored not just human zombies but also terrifyingly resilient zombie dogs. These mines were a precaution against dog zombies charging through the flames.

At Xie Han’s command, ten of the fastest runners were selected from the hundred men. “You all understand my plan now. Your task is simple: rush into the village and use your guns to lure the zombies out—not necessarily all, but most. Then lead them through the brushwood. With your speed, you can outrun them here. Once you escape the brushwood, your mission is complete.”

Xie Han’s order was straightforward. The soldiers, once scattered civilians, performed a crisp military salute before splitting into five groups of two, charging the village from five directions.

The others mounted machine guns on vehicles. Ten beam snipers took positions atop the command vehicle, six meters high, with clear sightlines. Their mission was to eliminate any zombies that broke through the flames, easing pressure on the rear. Beam sniper rifles could recharge, but machine guns consumed conventional ammo, so Xie Han sought to minimize their use.

Minutes later, gunfire erupted within the village, shattering its calm like stones thrown into a still lake. Doors were battered open; ceramics shattered—a cacophony that reassured Xie Han the zombie horde was roused.

Soon, the five groups of two emerged, not fleeing but using terrain to snipe the first zombies. As more poured out, they retreated and fired again, repeating until the majority of the village’s zombies surged forth, recklessly charging the soldiers.

The brushwood was close by; the soldiers swiftly led the zombies onto it, then ceased shooting. Running was now essential—a single spark could ignite this massive powder keg. Anyone firing their weapon risked their life.

The brushwood was difficult terrain; some soldiers stumbled but quickly rose and pressed on. Xie Han watched intently as they finally cleared the brushwood, the pursuing zombies halfway through it.

“Light it up,” Xie Han ordered.

It was impossible to wait for all zombies to enter the brushwood—it wasn’t large enough for over two thousand zombies. Others continued charging from the village entrances.

With a series of detonations, explosives ignited the fuel-soaked brushwood. Within thirty seconds, towering flames and billowing smoke erupted, raging fiercely.

The fiery blaze obscured all sight except for the beam snipers atop the command vehicle, who watched zombies writhe and collapse in the inferno. Ordinary zombies could not withstand such intense flames. Even the fast dog zombies only managed to run halfway across before being incinerated silently, adding fuel to the fire.

The acrid stench of burning flesh and decay engulfed the area, more revolting than anyone expected. Many vomited uncontrollably.

Xie Han wryly thought this odor rivaled chemical weapons, sapping at least half his soldiers’ combat effectiveness. Had a zombie horde charged now, it could have inflicted heavy casualties.

Fortunately, human adaptability prevailed; after minutes, their noses adjusted.

The sustained blaze reassured Xie Han that any zombie on the brushwood was doomed. Yet within five minutes, the fire waned, gasoline consumed and brushwood burnt out. After dealing massive casualties, the burning field lost its lethal edge.

As feared, the weakened flames failed to stop the zombies, who crossed the smoldering embers and surged toward the human defensive lines.

Meanwhile, gunfire had alerted zombies from two smaller nearby villages, whose hordes now marched in force toward Xie Han’s position.