Chapter 68: Terror, the Upgraded Armored Vehicle!

The tires rolled mercilessly over the man on the ground, not caring if he lived or died. Xue Feng jerked the steering wheel sharply, crashing headlong into two cement mixers. Both cabs caved in simultaneously, crushing the drivers alive between the metal frames. The clamor was so tremendous that every zombie within a kilometer radius converged on the scene, frenzy in their rotting eyes.

The remaining thugs had no hope of escape; they could only fight the zombies with all their might. Xue Feng reversed the armored vehicle, then charged at the group of young men again, mowing them down alongside the zombies, grinding flesh and bone into pulp. Such was the might of the upgraded apocalypse war machine.

“What the hell is that thing? What are you waiting for—drive!” The punk with the rooster comb struggled to process the carnage. He suddenly noticed the blond driver was frozen in terror and slapped him hard. If they didn’t run now, death was certain.

The blow snapped Blondie out of his stupor. He slammed his foot on the accelerator, desperate to escape. If they could just make it to the road, there might be a sliver of hope; otherwise, they were finished. In the back seat, the woman with green hair was already sobbing in terror. How had things come to this? Just moments ago, they were the hunters—other survivors were nothing but prey. How had the tables turned so quickly?

A tremendous impact struck from behind—a collision from the apocalypse armored vehicle. The off-road car rolled several times before crashing into a large tree at the side of the road and halting at last.

The rooster-combed punk was dazed and battered, opening his eyes to see a man approaching slowly, sword in hand. He summoned all his strength, conjuring a flicker of fire in his palm—his special ability. But before he could use it, his head lolled to the side and he fainted.

Xue Feng split open the car door with a fire axe and dragged out both the rooster-combed punk and the green-haired woman. Blondie, the driver, was not so lucky—a shard of metal had pierced his neck, gushing hot blood that painted the driver's seat red.

In the distance, Liu Jun and the others stared in horror, paralyzed by fear. It was nothing short of a one-sided slaughter. Xue Feng alone had wiped out an entire gang. Liu Qiqi’s face had gone deathly pale. Only now did she realize that if Xue Feng ever harbored ill intentions, he could kill them all without breaking a sweat.

The gruesome scene made her stomach churn; she fought the urge to vomit.

“Did you see that? That’s the power of Brother Xue Feng!” You Haoyun declared with smug delight. “To follow Lord Xue Feng is a blessing—you're lucky, little girl.”

Shen Ruyan’s eyes shone with reverence. To her, killing these scum brought no discomfort at all. Had they been left unchecked, who knew how many survivors would have suffered?

But was it really so simple? For a moment, Liu Qiqi was lost in confusion.

…

When the rooster-combed punk regained consciousness, he found himself in a private room of a restaurant. His wrists were bound tightly to the iron bars of a window behind him, his feet restrained as well.

“Brother, help me!” came a frail voice from across the room—the woman with the garish makeup and green hair. Her body was covered in bruises, clearly the result of a beating.

“Heh, you’re finally awake. If you’d slept any longer, it would have been dark, and I’d have had to use more… persuasive methods,” came a voice.

The rooster-combed punk turned his head and saw the demon he’d glimpsed before losing consciousness—Xue Feng, holding a long whip.

“It’s you!” he stammered, his voice quivering with fear.

Xue Feng grinned cruelly, like a devil from hell. “Tell me—where is your group’s base, how many people are left, and where did you get your assault rifle?”

“Don’t tell him! If this devil finds our refuge, everyone else is as good as dead!” the green-haired woman screamed.

Without a word, Xue Feng lashed her with the whip.

She let out a heart-wrenching scream, a bloody welt opening on her shoulder. She had already suffered greatly, but to Xue Feng’s surprise, she remained defiant, biting her lip and refusing to reveal the base’s location. She glared at Xue Feng with hatred, gritting her teeth.

“If you have the guts, just kill me! Don’t think you’ll get anything from us!” she spat.

Xue Feng grinned wider, savoring her resistance—it made the game all the more enjoyable.

But just then, a foul stench began to fill the room. Xue Feng wrinkled his nose, looking at the rooster-combed punk—who, in his terror, had wet himself.

“O mighty leader of the Mourning Love Clan, the chosen one blessed by the gods, have you nothing to say for yourself?” Xue Feng’s eyes shone with contempt. This man was more cowardly than even the woman.

“I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything—just don’t hurt me!” the rooster-combed punk wailed desperately.

“You’re going to get everyone else killed!” the woman stared at him in disbelief. She had always thought him the strongest, the most fearless. Yet here he was, breaking before he was even tortured.

Xue Feng lashed her again, this time across the mouth. Blood poured from her split lips, and she fell silent.

“Speak,” Xue Feng commanded, turning to the rooster-combed punk.

Between sobs, the punk revealed the location of their gathering place. There were a dozen or so people left at the base; before this, everyone had been in high spirits, but now they were all asleep, which was why they hadn’t joined the attack.

“And the rifle—where did you get it?” Xue Feng pressed, more interested in the weapon than in wiping out the group. If there was a source of military arms, it couldn’t be left in others’ hands, even if he himself had no great need for guns.

“We found it while scavenging. There were zombies in camouflage uniforms in the southwestern woods—they must’ve been soldiers before. We went in and found a restricted military area. I took the rifle off one of the zombies, but there was no ammunition,” the punk said, head hanging low.

Xue Feng nodded. Those must have been sentries; their weapons had never been loaded with live rounds. The punk had only gotten lucky because of that. Without bullets, the rifle was little more than a prop.

“A military zone? You didn’t go in and look around?” Xue Feng narrowed his eyes.

“No, no way! When we got there, we saw others had already taken over that area—at least several hundred people. With so few of us, going in would have been suicide. We left before anyone noticed us,” the punk replied, fear evident in his eyes.