Destination

Noticing the commotion behind them, the group looked back to see the rearmost armored vehicle already submerged under a sea of corpses, transformed into a mountain of flesh where no trace of the vehicle remained.

They hadn't even traveled half the distance, yet the fifty-man mercenary team had already lost ten members—nearly one-fifth of their force!

"These monsters... could it be that someone is commanding them?"

Gilbert had watched the entire scene through the rearview mirror, but he was powerless to intervene, forced to watch helplessly as the living corpses used their own bodies to topple and bury the trailing armored vehicle.

Philip's expression was equally stunned, his mouth agape, unable to utter a single word.

If the scavengers they had wiped out in the past were mere rats, then these living corpses were like a pack of hyenas on the African savanna of the old era, waiting for the right moment to deliver a fatal blow.

Though Xia Leng remained calm, his muscles were coiled tight, ready to abandon the vehicle at a moment's notice.

Because rather than being trapped in this iron can waiting to be pried open by the horde, it would be better to use his previous method to escape on his own.

He had thought the Komodo Corporation's armored convoy might actually succeed in forcing their way to the center of the street, but in the face of the corpse tide, they were proving to be as fragile as glass.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Moments later, the remaining four armored vehicles were struck by varying amounts of gore and body parts; once those searchlights were completely covered in zombie blood, it would be the moment for the horde's all-out assault.

"Damn it! Everyone, get your heads in the game! Some of you, get on the roof and clear the blood off the searchlights—don't let them get completely covered!"

Captain Philip was adept at turning terror into motivation; he stood up in a fury and barked orders to his men over the comms.

High-risk physical tasks like this were typically handled by the Tiger Squad.

True to their reputation as a battle-hardened, professionally trained mercenary unit, they were forced into a state of primal combat instinct by the dire circumstances.

Wearing exoskeleton suits, the Tiger Squad members didn't hesitate or retreat; they opened the roof hatches, climbed onto the armored vehicles, tore off their own clothing, and began frantically scrubbing the dark green blood from the searchlights.

Meanwhile, the Falcon Squad members weren't idle; they leaned halfway out of the vehicles, gripped the handles of the mounted heavy machine guns, and pulled the triggers, firing wildly at the horde that kept hurling chunks of flesh at them!

Ahhh!!!

Rat-tat-tat-tat!!!

Graaa!!!

The roars of the mercenaries, the whistling of bullets, and the shrieks of the living corpses blended together into a magnificent, chaotic symphony.

Not a single person thought of retreating, because in this environment, there was no opportunity to run; they had no choice but to fight these living corpses to the bitter end!

"All drivers, full speed ahead! No matter what, I have to see that Zombie King! Tanks, fire at will to clear the path—don't worry about saving the company's ammunition anymore!"

This time, it was Captain Gilbert roaring orders over the comms. His eyes were bloodshot; on a battlefield where life and death hung in the balance, all gentlemanly decorum had long been cast aside.

BOOM!!!

As soon as the order was given, the tank, which had already loaded its cannon, fired a shell directly into the mass of corpses ahead.

The impact point erupted in a deafening blast, the resulting fire and shockwave instantly shredding a patch of living corpses and sending them flying in every direction.

In this game of chess between human technology and mutated creatures, technology ultimately held the upper hand; those fierce, violent living corpses were torn to pieces by the tank's artillery.

Through their tacit cooperation, the convoy's speed increased significantly, and no more searchlights were obscured by the gore and blood being hurled at them.

Even Xia Leng couldn't help but look at these two teams with a newfound sense of respect, though they hadn't reached the center of the Street of the Living Dead yet, and everything remained an unknown variable.

With the remaining four armored vehicles and the tank pushing at full speed, the group drew closer and closer to their target, leaving a trail of carnage in their wake.

But these zombies didn't have the concept of retreat or flight in their dictionary; the closer they got to the center of the street, the more frenzied the living corpses became.

Their numbers showed no sign of thinning, chasing the convoy with a madness that blotted out the sky.

Finally! After nearly ten minutes of racing through this high-pressure game of cat and mouse, they caught sight of the iconic building at the center of the commercial district: the Trade Tower!

As expected, the central plaza was also densely packed with a sea of living corpses, enough to make anyone's scalp crawl.

However, under the intense glare of the searchlights, the creatures let out unwilling roars and parted to clear a path, until the convoy came to a safe stop at the entrance of the Trade Tower.

"All vehicles, spread out in a radial formation so that every vehicle is covered by the others' searchlights!"

After Gilbert had the convoy adjust into a secure defensive position, everyone gripped their weapons and stepped out of the sturdy armored vehicles with grim expressions.

"Do you need any weapons? It looks like you don't have anything reliable on you."

Before stepping out, Gilbert noticed Xia Leng was empty-handed, save for an empty pistol tucked into his waistband.

"Just give me any durable melee weapon," Xia Leng replied indifferently. The harrowing journey seemed to have caused him no emotional fluctuation, leaving both captains feeling a sense of admiration for the man.

The five searchlights formed a circular "absolute zone" in front of the Trade Tower, isolating the dense, surging horde of living corpses outside, who continued to shriek and wail at those within the light.

Under the dual pressure of sight and sound, the mercenaries breathed heavily, their bodies trembling uncontrollably.

They held their weapons tight, muzzles aimed at the endless sea of corpses surrounding them.

They all knew that if the horde surged forward in full force, even infinite ammunition wouldn't make a difference; their weapons were merely a psychological comfort against the crushing weight of their situation.

Xia Leng, meanwhile, looked up at the Trade Tower before him.

The intense sense of danger he had felt when he came here alone had vanished, and those purple pupils were nowhere to be seen.

Could it be that the commotion they caused this time had forced the Zombie King to relocate, or was it intentionally hiding its aura?

Regardless of whether it was there or not, they had already arrived, and they would have to go up and investigate; perhaps they could find some clues.

"Captain, the searchlight batteries can last for about 40 minutes, but we need the lights to clear a path for our return trip, so I suggest we spend no more than half an hour in this building."

Just then, an aide ran over to report the situation to Captain Gilbert. These searchlights were their only amulets; if the power ran out before they could escape the Street of the Living Dead, nothing but death and decay awaited them.