Retired soldiers who return to local government work after twelve years of service are certainly well-qualified in overall military competence.
Li Qingfeng had only recently retired from the armed police, and still maintained a proper training routine—his skills had not gone to waste. Liu Chenxi, on the other hand, was a nuclear submarine soldier; unlike Li Qingfeng’s physical combat-oriented experience, his specialty was technical ability and psychological endurance under pressure. Yang Jiamu was a vehicle soldier, and he was the one driving the second car—his driving skills were beyond question. Tang Luping and Zhou Cheng were traditional infantry veterans—ordinary but dependable endurance specialists.
All five of them were in their thirties. In a township government office, they would be the backbone of field operations—strong in both physical ability and attitude. The only drawback was that, aside from Liu Chenxi who could still handle spreadsheets, the others visibly panicked the moment they had to write official documents.
After getting out of the vehicles, they exchanged subtle hand signals and very naturally formed a tactical formation, advancing in a coordinated, staggered pattern.
Old Mao caught up with Wei Shishu and pulled him aside, making a “shh” gesture with his mouth, signaling him not to act alone and to move carefully.
Wei Shishu was a little unhappy. He was deeply worried about the safety of the first group of comrades and couldn’t understand what Old Mao was doing.
But… in any case, he was a person who considered the bigger picture, so he didn’t argue.
He slowed his pace and approached the police car parked diagonally outside the gate.
Although the police car was about the same age as him, an old Santana full of dents and marks of time, it didn’t seem like it should be damaged this badly.
No—this police car had clearly been smashed.
Wei Shishu’s eyes widened. Vandalized police cars? A riot?
He quickly reviewed all recent work in his mind. No, there shouldn’t be anything causing public outrage. Poverty alleviation cases were being followed up regularly, emergencies were handled immediately, no major land acquisitions or projects, and most petition cases were handled in a civilized manner.
He had also seen the video Chen Yunhao posted in the group. He was skeptical that mutated rabies alone could cause such a situation.
He leaned more toward the idea that outsiders might have brought in some new type of drug disguised as food, which the villagers and officials accidentally consumed—leading to this bizarre incident.
Old Mao didn’t know what Wei Shishu was staring at. After confirming there was no one inside the police car, he walked around to the other side.
Nothing.
Old Mao thought deeply. On the way here, they had seen an ambulance turn back; yet the police car here had been abandoned.
Where were the police officers? Were they inside the ambulance?
Where were the affected villagers? In the middle of this stormy night, where could they possibly run?
Unease grew in his heart as he circled the car, followed closely by Li Qingfeng and the others.
Wei Shishu adjusted his glasses. Visibility was too poor, so he simply took them off.
He also wondered: why is no one here? Where are the infected villagers? The police? The township officials?
Seeing Old Mao heading inside, he suppressed his doubts and followed quickly.
Old Mao stepped onto the muddy steps and entered the meeting room that had been used as a temporary shelter for villagers.
The scene was shocking.
The room was in complete chaos—overturned folding beds, scattered blankets, and everywhere… blood, flesh, and severed limbs.
A chill ran through Old Mao’s body, and Li Qingfeng and the others felt their adrenaline surge.
Broken limbs—arms torn apart, feet snapped off—strewn across the floor as if some beast had feasted here.
Everyone was stunned into silence. Li Qingfeng, who had once participated in overseas anti-terror operations, even began considering the possibility of a violent extremist attack.
Wei Shishu, with his poor eyesight, walked in later. Seeing everyone staring at the ground, he bent down and picked something up to examine it closely.
“What are you looking at… holy sh—!!!”
A bloodied human hand was thrown away by Wei Shishu, hitting the window with a dull thud.
Startled, Li Qingfeng raised his riot pole as if it were a gun, aiming at the severed limb.
“We should not split up. Check the other rooms first to see if anyone is still inside.”
Old Mao swallowed hard. He didn’t dare imagine where the villagers had gone. If this really was a contagious biting infection, then what about the surrounding population?
Wei Shishu said nothing, repeatedly wiping his hands as he followed the plan.
They moved out cautiously, checking rooms one by one from left to right.
The first room—the convenience service station—was a mess of scattered documents, broken ceramic cups, and bloodstained walls.
The second—the village committee office—was equally chaotic. The sofa was covered in claw marks, and flesh and blood remained on the floor. Two abandoned riot poles lay there, marked with township government labels.
They skipped the main meeting hall and reached the closed “rural reading room.”
Li Qingfeng knocked on the door.
“Is anyone there?”
A faint rustling sound came from inside.
Li Qingfeng signaled to the others—someone was inside.
They took positions on both sides of the door, weapons ready.
“We are from the township government. Are you inside? Can you respond?”
After another pause, a trembling girl’s voice answered:
“I… I am Zhang Xue… outside… outside is crazy…”
“Zhang Xue, don’t be afraid. Open the door!” Wei Shishu stepped forward immediately.
“There’s no one dangerous outside now. It’s just us. Tell us what happened!”
Hearing familiar voices, Zhang Xue burst into tears and finally opened the door with shaking hands.
Her red vest was stained with blood—unclear whether it was hers or someone else’s.
Old Mao quickly assessed the situation. If the incubation time after biting was about half an hour, and she had already survived over an hour, she was likely uninfected.
“Let’s go, back to the vehicles first.”
Zhang Xue’s legs were weak and she could barely walk. Zhou Cheng knelt down and carried her.
She began sobbing and speaking through tears:
“At first… Liu Er started biting people… many were injured… then the injured also started biting… the village secretary called… I called… everyone went crazy… the secretary locked me in the reading room… I didn’t bring my phone…”
“I was scared… I heard cars… I didn’t dare go out… then everything started again…”
Old Mao comforted her: “It’s okay. Don’t be afraid. We’ll go back to the township government. The county will send help by morning. It’s probably just mutated rabies.”
They quickly headed out toward the vehicles.
At that moment, another emergency SUV came speeding down the village road.
The driver honked loudly twice.
Wei Shishu waved instinctively and ran forward a few steps toward the vehicle.
Inside the car was Township Head Deng.
But the next second, everything changed.
The horn echoed through the rain-soaked night.
Figures began emerging from the dark houses along the road—stiff, unnatural movements—slowly converging toward the sound.
Wei Shishu ran forward toward the approaching vehicle.
At that moment, directly across from the village committee building, a figure in a police uniform staggered out of a broken wooden door.
“Officer Qiu?” Wei Shishu froze mid-step, recognizing him.
Ahead, the driver slowed slightly.
Township Head Deng rolled down the window:
“Folks, the rain is heavy—don’t come out! Go back inside and close your doors and windows!”
Zhang Xue, already inside the car, trembled violently at the sound of the horn and suddenly vomited uncontrollably.
“Sound… sound too loud… they went crazy… sound, light, stimulus… biting…”
Old Mao immediately shouted: “Township Deng! Close the windows! Go!”
But it was too late.
The staggering figures suddenly straightened, howling as they charged toward the vehicle.
Their cries spread through the village like a signal—echoes of similar screams erupting from the surrounding houses.
No screams of pain—only howls.
Old Mao’s heart turned cold.
He already knew the worst outcome had come true.
A pale, blue-veined hand slammed onto the car window.
The vehicle was quickly surrounded.
And at the same time, the man in police uniform opened his mouth wide, eyes blood-red, veins bulging, and let out a bestial roar as he charged forward.