Chapter Twelve: Winning the Crowd

Leading the group back to the underground vault, they found that now nearly a hundred uninvited survivors had gathered. The chaos at the airport had further reduced their numbers; apart from those who were lost or hadn’t received the message, almost all who were still alive had made their way here.

When the group saw Wujue return unharmed, with Xiao Yang and Xiao Han at his side, a stir of excitement rippled through the crowd.

“How is he still alive? Did he mutate, just like that fake policeman before?” someone questioned, emboldened, and pointed an iron rod at Wujue. “What are you planning to do?”

Wujue’s face was grim, as if unaffected by the accusation. In a flash, he appeared before the man, effortlessly wrenching the iron rod from his grip. “I am not your enemy; you shouldn’t be pointing weapons at me,” he said, then cast the rod to the ground. Watching the other wary survivors close in, he continued, “Don’t panic. Listen to me. I have not turned into a zombie, and I won’t harm you. But if you want to survive, you must unite. If you remain scattered, I will have no choice but to ask you to leave.”

With that, he stomped on the iron rod, flattening it with a single blow—a display of strength so effortless it stunned everyone present.

Someone, still shaken, challenged him, “Why should we listen to you? The world’s already fallen apart. Isn’t everyone just trying to survive on their own?”

Xiao Yang wheeled himself forward and said, “You’re mistaken. I paid for this basement out of my own pocket. Even if the world has ended, the right to use it remains mine. If you refuse to accept this, you’re forfeiting your right to order and protection. In that case, we won’t offer you any help—simple as that.”

Wujue glanced over each person in the crowd. “You are free to doubt me. You can choose to leave. But if you remain, you must accept my training and arrangements. Rest assured, I will respect everyone’s interests. Any unfairness may be raised publicly, but not at the expense of the group’s safety or well-being.”

He looked up at the faint sunlight streaming through the entrance and turned back. “In this apocalypse, there’s no one we can rely on. Only by fighting for ourselves do we stand a chance at survival.”

Gradually, the crowd was subdued by Wujue’s authority, and the air grew heavy with silence. Seizing the moment, Xiao Yang began assigning roles.

First, the basement was divided into zones, with resting areas prepared for everyone. Information was registered, and everyone was sternly warned about restricted areas and the consequences of damage or trespassing.

Wujue then gathered all able-bodied men and divided them into small teams. He planned to teach them basic martial arts from the Great Forest Temple—to strengthen their bodies and task them with finding supplies to keep everyone fed.

The elderly and women were assigned to care for the children and distribute resources. Wujue would also teach the stronger among them self-defense and how to watch for external threats, in case something happened while the men were away.

He arranged the men into groups of three to keep night watch at the entrance, to guard against zombie intrusions.

After all these preparations, the survivors’ initial doubts faded, replaced by growing trust in Wujue and his companions.

Sensing the time was right, Wujue had the group gather four or five cars, preparing to head to the supermarket before dark to collect supplies. This was critical; with so many mouths to feed, their survival depended on it.

With experience from last time, Wujue led the group to a supermarket and told everyone to stay in the cars while he went in alone. He cautiously scouted the supermarket, ensuring all windows and doors were secured, then headed upstairs.

Two zombies were wandering inside. Hearing his footsteps, they staggered toward him, but Wujue calmly raised his steel blade and dispatched them with a blow each.

He locked all the windows and found that the manager’s office roof had partially collapsed. He locked the main door and barricaded it with a row of shelves before signaling for the others to come in and start moving supplies.

Leaving one driver with each car, the rest—a dozen or so men—entered the supermarket to collect goods, while Wujue guarded the entrance against any zombies drawn by the noise.

Soon, their cars were packed full. Wujue ordered half the group to leave with the supplies while a few men stayed behind with him to continue searching the area for anything useful, arranging for the cars to return for them later.

After sending the cars off, Wujue told the remaining men, “Stick close to me. We’ll sweep the supermarkets, check for zombies first, seal all exits, then search for supplies.”

They nodded and followed him. Across the street were two more medium-sized supermarkets they hadn’t searched before due to zombie activity.

Now, with backup, Wujue carefully led his team, soon reaching the entrance of one supermarket. Peering inside through the glass, he counted seven or eight zombies—some gnawing on corpses, others wandering aimlessly.

He signaled for everyone to ready their weapons, then yanked open the doors and charged in.

Wielding two steel blades, Wujue moved swiftly, first beheading a zombie hunched over a corpse, then darting toward the others.

Slicing through four or five zombies with ease, he found his strength greater than ever. As he looked back, his companions had finished off the rest.

Now the floor was clear of any moving zombies, but Wujue still warned everyone to remain vigilant and search thoroughly to ensure safety.

He hurried through the supermarket and was about to check upstairs when a shout erupted—someone had found a zombie behind a row of shelves, feasting on a corpse, unnoticed until now.

The man who discovered the zombie froze in terror, collapsing and scrambling backward. Seeing the distance was too great, Wujue dashed forward and hurled his blade.

The force of his throw was extraordinary; the blade shot through the air with a piercing whistle and embedded itself in the back of the zombie’s skull.

The grotesque creature fell with a thud, its body twitching as it crawled forward and grabbed the terrified man’s ankle, then finally went still.

Wujue hurried over, found the man paralyzed with fear, chopped off the zombie’s hand, and helped him up. “Remember, this is what the apocalypse is like. You must always be prepared to risk your life. I hope next time, you won’t just be paralyzed by fear.”

The man kicked off his shoe, steadied himself, and replied, “I understand. I won’t forget.”

But it was no time to relax—upstairs, more zombies had been drawn by the commotion and were now rushing down in a swarm.

The others quickly warned Wujue to turn around. Looking up, he saw a torrent of zombies pouring down—at least several dozen…