“I said back off!” Chad Kaplan yelled, swinging his sidearm away from Chu Feng to aim at the dead staggering toward them.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Da-da-da-da!
J.D.
and Rain opened fire in unison, their assault rifles blazing in the narrow corridor.
The sheer kinetic impact of the automatic fire ripped into the leading corpses, knocking them backward off their feet and pinning them against the steel walls.
“Automatic fire isn’t going to hold them,” Chu Feng called out over the deafening gunfire.
“Give me a gun!” Chad shot him a quick, distrustful glance.
“Are you crazy?
You’re an unverified survivor, and we’ve got this under control!” “Under control?” Chu Feng scoffed.
Against living targets, a hail of center-mass automatic fire would induce shock and blood loss in seconds.
But to the walking dead, destroyed lungs and shredded spleens were irrelevant.
Gaaarrrh…
Sure enough, the fallen figures twitched.
Pushing themselves up from pools of dark blood, they stood right back up and resumed their shambling advance.
“What is wrong with these people?!” Alice gasped, stepping back.
Behind his back, Matt Addison quietly slipped Rain’s handcuff key into his lock and turned it with a faint, silent click.
The steel cuffs loosened around his wrists.
Seeing the soldiers struggle against invincible corpses, Matt knew staying bound was a death sentence.
“I hit them!
I put three rounds right through his chest!” Chad stammered, his face pale as the lead zombie dragged itself forward again.
He squeezed off three more rapid shots into the creature’s torso.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
The zombie staggered back a step, then pressed onward, teeth bared.
“Give me the pistol if you want to live!” Chu Feng demanded, stepping closer to Chad.
Chad looked at the closing horde, then at his trembling hands.
Panic won out over procedure.
Unholstering his backup Beretta 92FS, he flicked off the safety and tossed it across the small gap to Chu Feng.
“Take it!” Chu Feng caught the frame cleanly.
The moment his fingers wrapped around the steel grip and cold alloy slide, a thrill coursed through his nerve endings.
The gun felt less like a tool in his hand and more like an extension of his own skeleton.
Suddenly, a rotted researcher lunged out of the side shadow, snapping its bloodied jaw straight for Chad’s neck.
“Damn it—!” Chad shrank back, raising his arms in sheer terror.
He was cornered, with no time to duck or draw another weapon.
Chu Feng didn’t hesitate.
He raised the Beretta and pulled the trigger.
Bang!
A bright muzzle flash illuminated the dark corridor.
Because it was Chu Feng’s first time firing a real firearm, his physical recoil control was imperfect—the barrel kicked high, sending the bullet off-target toward the zombie’s shoulder.
Normally, it would have missed the brain entirely.
Nudge.
In the microsecond the copper-jacketed round cleared the barrel, Chu Feng’s Tier 1 magnetic field locked onto the projectile.
With an invisible, instantaneous yank of kinetic force, the bullet’s flight path sharply veered mid-air, snapping sideways and driving straight through the center of the zombie’s forehead.
Pfft!
Bone shattered.
The zombie’s eyes went dull, and it collapsed instantly like a puppet with its strings cut.
[Ding!
Target destroyed: Ordinary Zombie.
Rewards: 10 Points.] Chad squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for teeth in his neck.
When nothing happened, he opened them to see the creature lying dead at his feet.
He looked up at Chu Feng in utter shock.
“How…
how did you do that?” Before Chad could wrap his head around it, another zombie lunged from the gloom on their left.
Chu Feng snapped his wrist around and fired blindly.
Bang!
Again, the bullet corrected its arc in mid-flight, plunging into the creature’s eye socket.
The zombie dropped cold before it could even utter a groan.
[Ding!
Target destroyed: Ordinary Zombie.
Rewards: 10 Points.] More infected flooded out of the connecting security tunnels, lured by the thunderous gunshots.
Dozens of ghastly, blood-stained faces pressed into the red-lit chamber.
Alice retreated against the wall, her heart hammering.
Rain and J.D.
held their breath, frantically checking their remaining magazine counts.
To everyone else, this was a nightmarish, inescapable death trap.
To Chu Feng, looking down the sights of a steel handgun with a chamber full of magnetic projectiles, it was a target-rich point farm.
A cold, confident grin spread across his face.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Chu Feng moved forward instead of retreating.
He didn’t bother using a proper two-handed stance or lining up three-point iron sights.
He simply pointed the muzzle in the general direction of the advancing crowd and squeezed the trigger as fast as the mechanism could cycle.
Pfft!
Pfft!
Pfft!
Pfft!
Every single round flew with guided precision.
Even when he fired from the hip, the invisible magnetic field seized the spinning lead cores, curving them through the air to pierce forehead after forehead.
One shot.
One kill.
In a span of six seconds, seven zombies dropped in a neat, overlapping pile at the mouth of the corridor.
Silence descended upon Dining Room B, broken only by the thin wisps of cordite smoke drifting from Chu Feng’s barrel.
Chad’s jaw hung open.
Rain’s eyes were wide as saucers.
Even J.D., a trained military marksman, stared at Chu Feng as if he were looking at a ghost.
“Is…
is this guy a goddamn competition shooter?” J.D.
muttered under his breath.
“Every shot…
straight through the brain,” Rain whispered, looking between the pile of dead corpses and the unassuming civilian holding a standard police sidearm.
“He didn’t even look through the sights!” “Is he using a pistol or a precision rifle?” Spence stuttered, wiping cold sweat from his forehead.
To a team of elite special forces, watching an untrained civilian pick off moving targets with 100% headshot accuracy using rapid hip-fire wasn’t just impressive—it defied every law of tactical marksmanship they had ever been taught.
Chu Feng ignored their stunned expressions, his eyes flicking to the glowing mental prompt in his mind.
[Current Points: 100 / 1,000.] He flicked the Beretta’s slide back to check the magazine, his grin widening in the dark.
Ninety more to go.