"The first week without the boss... I miss him... I miss him..."
At that moment, Flared Ears was sighing mournfully, looking utterly pitiful.
They had now entered the Northern Border. Since it was December, light snow drifted from the sky, and the Earth lay blanketed in white, clad in silver.
Although zombies were not afraid of the cold and were fairly resistant to freezing, food was scarce at the moment.
The Northern Expedition was no easy job for them. After traveling long distances and fighting all the way, they had barely eaten a decent meal, leaving them ravenous.
"There aren't any shrimp!"
Shrimp Chaser shouted from the side, his face equally full of disappointment.
Flared Ears said, "This is inland. Where would shrimp come from? And the farther we go, the farther we are from the sea."
"Huh?"
Shrimp Chaser's mouth fell open, and his heart sank into despair.
Locomotive comforted him instead.
"It's fine. The planet is round. As long as we keep moving forward, we'll reach the sea eventually."
"Really?"
Shrimp Chaser seemed to regain hope.
Ahead of the Four Overlords were Tank, Little Eight, and the other Zombie Kings, along with several hundred Elite Zombies.
They counted as the vanguard, scouting the way ahead. Behind them was the true Zombie Tide, which had absorbed many more forces during this period of conquest and now numbered nearly five hundred thousand.
Tank's burly body trudged forward. When his small eyes swept around and saw that Little Eight and the others were not paying attention to him, he secretly pulled out a dead rat from his waist and quietly gnawed on it.
With the land frozen over, prey was truly hard to find. They could only catch mutated rats for a quick bite to fill their stomachs.
But as Little