Five Hundred, How About It?

Zombie World, medical room.

Wu Heng sat to one side, looking at the two patients in the room.

The man was around forty, his face pale and his thinning hair somewhat disheveled. An IV tube was inserted into his arm, transparent fluid dripping steadily down.

In another bed not far away lay a woman in her fifties. Her graying, dry hair hung loosely over her shoulders, and her lips were cracked.

Both of them looked this way as well, their eyes carrying a trace of unease.

Two weapon-wielding skeletons stood across from each bed, their hollow eye sockets fixed directly on the patients without moving.

These two were the Korean technicians Wu Heng had saved.

They had rested for a day yesterday, and he had come to check on them first today.

"Feeling better?" Wu Heng asked in Korean Language.

They were not trustworthy, but the base needed talented people in every field.

If they were willing to work honestly, Wu Heng was still willing to let them join.

The man answered, "I've recovered somewhat."

"You should have learned a little about the base by now. My attitude is simple: in the current situation, we should help each other survive the apocalypse, rather than harm one another over ideas of race or faction. What do you think?" Wu Heng said calmly.

The two exchanged a glance. The man was still the one to speak. "You're right."

"Since you've chosen to join the base, work properly from now on. We'll guarantee your livelihood and safety," Wu Heng continued.

"Please rest assured. We're only technical personnel at the base. The attacks on your Skeleton Squad had nothing to do with us, and from now on, we'll do our best to complete whatever work you assign us," the man said seriously.

Hearing his