Unexpected Gains

"Use the shield to block him, quick, don't use brute force, tilt the shield, get the angle right, push outward, yes, now, knock him down."

"Good, just like that."

"Spearmen, follow up, pierce their heads."

"Quick, don't hesitate!"

"See, it's simple, right? Yes! Coordinate with each other, search for the next target."

Atlanta, Maple Leaf Apartments.

The members of the Combat Team worked in groups of three. One person held a shield and bayonet, standing at the front of the formation to draw the zombies' attention and control them with the shield. The other two wielded spears, flanking the shield-bearer, responsible for dealing damage through precise thrusts.

Under Leon's guidance, this formation, with three people coordinating, easily handled two or three zombies at a time.

At this moment, the nine members of the Combat Team split into three squads, standing before the villa's main gate, forming a battle line, and began clearing each villa one by one.

Leon carried a crossbow in one hand, a machete at his waist, and a small speaker in the other.

Bang!

Using a lock-picking tool to open the villa's door lock, he unceremoniously kicked the door open, letting the loud noise echo through the villa. He placed the speaker in the corner at the bottom of the doorway, and a burst of passionate rock music blared from it.

Ignoring the music, he stepped back a few paces, observing the villa's interior. Only when several rotting figures staggered toward him from different corners did Leon turn and retreat behind the battle line, crossbow in hand, ready to provide support.

In this training mission, he no longer directly joined the fight. Instead, he was responsible for luring the zombies out of the villas, honing his subordinates' combat skills.

The battles were uneventful. Each villa typically had only four or five zombies, at most no more than ten. Facing nine human warriors clad in armor and wielding sharp weapons, they couldn't stir up any trouble.

With the sound of shields slamming into bodies, spears piercing skulls, and the zombies' fading roars, a villa could be cleared in just a few minutes.

After clearing each villa, Leon had his employees enter to inspect every corner, eliminate any remaining threats, and search for resources. Only valuable supplies like food, medicine, firearms, and ammunition were loaded into the pickup truck they had driven over.

Less important resources would later be collected by dedicated porters from the Logistics Department.

And so, each villa took about ten to twenty minutes to clear. Three hours later, as they prepared to open the seventeenth villa—

Leon was surprised to find that this villa was locked from the inside. Not only that, but the door was reinforced with wooden planks nailed from within, and all the windows had their curtains drawn.

Seeing this, he had a guess.

He pounded on the door, shouting in English as he did:

"Anyone there? Is anyone in there?"

"We're rescue personnel from Atlanta. Please open the door."

After calling out for three minutes with no response, Leon couldn't be bothered to overthink it or waste his energy. He stepped back a few paces, muscles tensed, the strange energy within him flowing slowly. With a low growl, his nearly two-meter-tall, robust body charged like an enraged bear, slamming violently into the wooden door.

Bang!

A loud crash. The villa's door trembled slightly, the windows beside it creaked, and Leon noticed fine cracks appearing at the door's hinges.

Feeling no physical discomfort, he retreated a dozen more steps, all the way to the road outside the villa. Under the gazes of his subordinates, who looked at him like he was a monster, he growled again, gathered his strength, and sprinted like a furious rhinoceros, crashing heavily into the villa's door.

Crack!

Amid the sound of splintering wood, half of the villa's door was torn from its hinges, tilting to one side, revealing the dim living room inside.

Leon rubbed his slightly sore shoulder, grabbed the detached half of the door, yanked it off, and tossed it onto the lawn outside the villa.

He waved at his subordinates, signaling them to follow, and took the lead himself. After kicking away the planks nailed behind the door, he stepped into the living room.

As soon as he entered, Leon frowned and covered his nose and mouth. The air was thick with a nauseating stench—not the rotting, fishy smell of decay, but the foul odor of a sealed space where excrement had gone uncleaned for a long time, fermenting into a putrid miasma.

Leon's thoughts shifted, and his movements paused. Covering his nose and mouth, he quickly retreated from the hall.

I am the Boss. This kind of dirty, exhausting work isn't for me. I don't want to stay in that stench for ten-plus minutes.

Back outside the villa, he waved at his subordinates by the door.

"There should be living people in there. Go search inside."

After a moment's thought, he added, "Remember to open the windows in there and let some air in."

With that, he took off his copper-wire gloves, found a ventilated spot to sit, pulled a lighter and a cigar from the leather pouch at his lower back, and lit one up, trying to suppress the nausea from earlier.

Six or seven minutes later, Leon saw Merle, his face pale, carrying a frail middle-aged white man toward him. T-Zai and Aji, their dark faces equally grim, each led a timid, pale-faced child by the hand, following behind.

Hah, got a whiff of that stench, didn't you? Being a subordinate isn't so easy.

Seeing the unconscious middle-aged white man and the two children, both under eight years old, Leon roughly understood why no one had responded to his calls.

An older sister, about eight, and a younger brother, about five. Round eyes, brown hair, very fair skin, and incredibly cute features.

He turned and grabbed a few large chocolate bars and bottled drinks from the pickup truck storing supplies.

He patted their heads, carefully tore open the wrappers for them, and pressed the high-energy food into their hands.

The two children stared timidly at Leon for a long moment, then glanced back at their unconscious father on the ground, before slowly reaching out to take the food he offered.

Then they eagerly began eating and drinking in big gulps.

Leon pointed at the man laid flat on the lawn and said, "Wake him up first."

Merle spat contemptuously to the side. He looked down on this man who locked himself in a house, preferring to starve rather than dare to go out and fight. With a rough motion, he pulled a canteen from his belt and splashed the water all over the man's face.

"Cough! Cough! Cough!"

After seven or eight seconds, the middle-aged man let out a few weak coughs. Dazed, he opened his eyes and looked around, but when he tried to push himself up from the ground, he couldn't lift his own body.

He raised his head, first looking at Leon and the others, then at the child eating food beside Leon. Tears of relief after surviving a catastrophe welled up in his eyes.

Leon took a puff of his cigar as he looked at the man, then tossed him a pack of chocolate. He asked calmly, "Who are you, and why were you hiding in that house?"

The man picked up the chocolate, tore open the wrapper, and wolfed it down in a few frantic bites. In a weak voice, he said, "I am Professor Amrin from the Georgia Institute of Technology, Chief Engineering Consultant for Delta Air Lines, Senior Electronics Engineer, and Senior Software Engineer."

"This summer, I originally planned to bring my two children to my hometown of Atlanta for a vacation. But I never imagined I would encounter a disaster like this."

"I locked us in the basement of the villa, surviving on the meager supplies we had, hoping to wait for rescue. But after more than thirty days, no one ever came to save us."

"A few days ago—I don't remember exactly when—I gave the last of the water and food to the children. I couldn't hold on any longer myself and passed out."

"Until you came and rescued me."

Hearing the middle-aged man's long string of titles, Leon's eyes lit up. This man might seem weak and useless, not the type to work or fight, but he was clearly a highly educated intellectual with knowledge and skills.

Having him on board would definitely be a gain.

Leon cleared his throat and said in a low voice, "Mr. Amrin, we are not rescue personnel. You've been locked in that house for too long and don't know the situation outside."

"Now, the times have changed. There are no more armies or governments."

"I am a manager of the Umbrella Corporation. Would you like to hear about our Umbrella Corporation?"