Anvil and flames

Lynn's order hit the chaos of the battlefield like a block of ice.

Before he had finished speaking, Zhao Jinghong was already charging toward the nearest high point-a firing platform piled with sandbags and battered oil drums.

She propped Awakening of Insects beside her and reached behind her waist to draw a Glock fitted with a makeshift suppressor.

In this chaos, shooting moving targets mixed in among the dead, a handgun was more useful than a rifle.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The suppressed shots gave muffled reports.

One disguised figure was gesturing to guide the horde toward Shane's flank when his head suddenly snapped back. A hole appeared between his brows, and he fell.

Another Whisperer trying to climb the wall for a sneak attack had his knee and weapon hand shattered by two shots from Zhao Jinghong. He rolled down howling and was immediately swallowed by the horde.

Her shooting was not as uncanny as The Jackal's, but in a chaotic fight within a hundred meters, her exceptional eyesight and steady hands were enough to give those commanders wearing walker skins a headache.

Holding her position there, she greatly eased the pressure on the wall, forcing those commanders to keep their heads down and hesitate to move.

Like a maddened bull, Davis roared as he rallied the people shrinking back. "T-Dog! Get some people and push those wrecks over here. Block the entrance leading farther inside.

Maggie! Glenn! Set up crossfire and suppress the front of the horde. Don't let them break through.

Old Joey! Get people to drag the wounded back to the warehouse! Move! Move! Move!"

His shouting temporarily shored up the defense that was on the verge of collapse.

Using cars, sandbags, and wall corners, the survivors desperately held back the walkers pressing against them.

Dr. Min-seon set up an aid station at the entrance to a warehouse farther back.

Her hands moved in a blur, hemostats and sutures flying as she treated the lacerations that kept coming in.

Min-seon watched the critically wounded, assessed their conditions, and administered emergency care, racing against death.

But the breach was too wide, and the walkers pouring through seemed endless.

Shane's shotgun blasted wildly, blowing approaching walkers into flying chunks, but he too was forced back step by step, covered in blood and grime.

Daryl rode his motorcycle through the more open spaces, picking off the fast variants trying to circle around with his crossbow, but he could stop very few.

Merle had gone completely berserk, swinging his machete in full arcs to hack apart the walkers approaching him, but several deep cuts had opened on his body too, blood pouring out.

Under the horde's relentless assaults and the Whisperers' insidious guidance, the defensive line was close to giving way.

Just then-

"ROAR-!!!"

A roar far fiercer than an ordinary engine suddenly came from the base's east gate.

Then two brilliant headlights on a modified off-road vehicle cut through the smoke and chaos.

It was the Ash squad!

They had finished their work outside and, after hearing the commotion, raced back as fast as they could.

The reinforced off-road vehicle in the lead never slowed. Like a maddened bull, it slammed into the flank of the horde surging toward the breach.

Bang! Crack! Squelch!

Dull impacts, snapping bones, and the sound of flesh being crushed blended together.

More than a dozen walkers in front of the vehicle were flung away and crushed like rotten sacks.

Covered in blood and mangled flesh, the off-road vehicle swung its rear around and skidded sideways, firmly blocking one of the most hard-pressed gaps in the line, its headlights shining straight onto the seething mass of corpses ahead.

The doors burst open! The Ash squad plunged into the battlefield like wolves descending a mountain.

"Anvil in position! Establish a defensive line!"

Anvil's burly figure was the first to jump out, his roar drowning out the din of battle.

His assault rifle fired fast, accurate bursts, instantly dropping several fast variants lunging toward him.

"Bulwark! Set up the gun! Suppress the front!

Det! Block the route!

Wraith! Peregrine! Clear the field and root out the rats.

Wrench! Watch our retreat route; Stitch! Set up a second aid station."

The orders were short and forceful, without the slightest hesitation.

The Ash squad immediately sprang into action.

"Copy!" Bulwark answered. Like a block of iron, he swiftly set up a heavy M60 machine gun across the hood and cargo bed.

The ammunition belt rattled into place, and the next second-

Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-!!!

A savage hail of bullets instantly swept down a broad swath directly ahead.

The 7.62 mm rounds mowed down the advancing horde in waves, scattering torn flesh and severed limbs across the ground. The pressure at the front abruptly eased.

"Det copies!"

Small and wiry, his eyes gleaming, Det darted out with a bulging pack on his back, clutching plastic explosives and fuses.

"Building graves for the beasts!"

Shouting, he moved swiftly along the edge of the horde and through the rubble of the broken wall under the machine gun's cover, expertly placing explosives at key points.

"Wraith moving." Wraith's voice was almost inaudible. Using the flashes of explosions and smoke, he slipped like a shadow into the edge of the battlefield, targeting the commanders hidden within the horde.

"Peregrine in position."

Peregrine nimbly climbed a ruined water-tower frame nearby and raised his DMR.

The green glow of his night-vision goggles swept across the battlefield. His muzzle no longer provided support for Zhao Jinghong; instead, he searched for suspicious command signals and movements, serving as eyes for Wraith and Zhao Jinghong.

"Wrench copies!" Wrench stayed in the vehicle, gripping the steering wheel as the engine growled, ready at any moment to charge or serve as cover. His eyes scanned the dashboard.

"Second aid station ready!"

Stitch cleared a space behind the vehicle, opened her medical kit, and deftly treated the critically wounded brought to her.

His composure gave those on the verge of death a glimpse of survival.

The Ash squad's arrival was like steel pillars suddenly bracing a collapsing wall.

Their professionalism, coordination, and firepower immediately held up the defensive line that was about to crumble.

Bulwark's machine gun suppressed the front; Det's explosives would soon block the route; Wraith and Peregrine began targeting those insidious commanders for elimination; Anvil stabilized the overall situation and directed operations; Wrench watched the retreat route, preventing the enemy from escaping; Stitch guarded their lifeline.

Seeing this, Lynn felt a little more settled.

He stopped concerning himself with the details of the defense and focused entirely on the few Whisperer leaders flickering in and out of sight within the horde.

His rifle held steady on the one he had pointed out earlier, the one whose movements were most conspicuous.

"Jing Hong! Three o'clock! At the edge of the horde, the one pushing walkers. Make him show his head," Lynn said in a low, sharp voice.

Zhao Jinghong understood immediately and swung her pistol-

Bang!

A shot struck at the head of the walker beside that disguised figure's feet?

It missed, but the sudden disturbance and threat made him pause and instinctively raise his head toward the gunshot.

Now!

Lynn's gaze sharpened. He held his breath, anticipated the movement, and pulled the trigger.

Bang-!

The rifle gave a crisp report!

The bullet passed through a gap in the horde and through the smoke, striking squarely inside the disguised figure's mouth, which had opened in shock.

Squelch!

A mist of blood sprayed from the back of his head.

The minor leader stiffened and toppled straight into the mud.

"One!" Lynn's voice was icy.

Zhao Jinghong's lips curled coldly, and her muzzle shifted toward the next target.

The Jackal on the distant rooftop, Peregrine on the water tower, Wraith in the shadows-every muzzle began turning in unspoken coordination toward the "shepherds" trying to drive the horde.

The counterattack began with that shot from Lynn.