“I’ll give you five more silver bullet magazines.”

Uncle Clark once again stacked several magazines onto the firearm. “Release the safety, aim at the enemy, pull the trigger—this kind of thing you’ll have to learn on your own.”

Grace Brooks looked at the huge gun in both her hands, her palms trembling uncontrollably. “I—I’ll do my best…”

John Baker lifted his eyes to glance at Uncle Clark and William Carter, let out a cold laugh, lowered his head, and muttered, “Bleeding hearts.”

Henry Clark listened to Grace Brooks’s heartbeat so close by, and the clatter of gun and magazine in her trembling hands, and couldn’t help but sigh quietly in his heart.

No matter how much he relied on hearing and touch, it could never make up for the lack of eyes.

Henry Clark had always felt a heavy sense of danger wrapping around him. To kill him wouldn’t take much—maybe just a single bullet.

He couldn’t even find a place to run.

The weakness of being blind was fatal, so he chose this timid girl to be his eyes.

But it still couldn’t make up for this deadly flaw!

Unconsciously, Henry Clark began to use this timid girl to help himself survive, even at the cost of tying their fates together.

He sighed slowly in his heart: Grace Brooks, you saved me once, I trust you. You’re timid and cowardly, I use you, but any reason is fine—just don’t let me down. If the two weakest don’t stick together, how can they survive in this dangerous place?

Suddenly, he felt a vibration on his wrist.

“What’s up with the watch now?” Henry Clark turned toward Grace Brooks. “A new mission?”

“N-no.” Grace Brooks’s hand trembled, making the words on the watch blur before her eyes.

Uncontrollable fear rose from her throat. “Those two… are dead…”

[Hope Team, surviving members: five. Deceased members: three.]

“It’s begun.” Uncle Clark clapped his hands, tapped the map on the table, and said, “Everyone understands the plan, right?”

After receiving everyone’s confirmation, the middle-aged Uncle Clark nodded, looked at the countdown flashing on his wrist, and grinned strangely. “Then let’s begin…”

“The struggle for survival—the journey of slaughter…”

Chapter 6 The Battle Begins

Under the gloomy sky, two figures slowly approached. The white man in a trench coat had long golden hair and a cigarette in his mouth. Beside him was a hippie black man, moving unhurriedly toward the end of the road, gradually nearing the mansion far from the city.

The soldier guarding the gate watched the two approach, frowned, and stepped forward to ask, “What’s your business here? Entry is forbidden.”

The man with the cigar showed a strange smile, exhaled a puff of smoke, and said, “Sorry about that. We’re tourists from a sightseeing group…”

The black man with two copper rings on his lips stepped up and asked in a strange accent, “Doesn’t this mansion offer tours?”

“This is private property. You’d better leave…”

Behind a certain window in the distant mansion, Henry Clark clearly heard the voices in his earpiece. He turned and asked the person beside him, “Do you see them?”

Grace Brooks, pale-faced and clutching her gun, leaned against the window and answered in a trembling voice, “I see them—two people, and five cars…”

“Aim, then shoot.” Henry Clark leaned against the wall, facing the empty room.

“But…”

“No buts. They’re giving us the first shot. I have to show I’m useful. If I become a useless burden, I’ll definitely be abandoned.”

Henry Clark slowly considered the words of that middle-aged man, then gave a decisive order: “No matter what the enemy looks like—cute or not—if you don’t shoot, they’ll shoot you in a moment, maybe even drain us all dry…”

“But…” Grace Brooks’s finger trembled, almost in tears, her face as pale as if it had been washed: “My hands won’t stop shaking… the sights keep jumping…”

Henry Clark froze for a moment. After a long silence, Grace Brooks suddenly felt a hand rest on her head, then gently stroke her.

“Sorry, excuse me.” As Henry Clark spoke, both his hands suddenly reached under Grace Brooks’s armpits and covered her hands.

As if embracing Grace Brooks from behind, Henry Clark steadied her hands holding the gun.

Feeling those hands trembling like fledglings under his palms, Henry Clark patted her hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry, this isn’t the time to take advantage.”

“I’ll steady it, you aim.” Henry Clark inhaled the fresh scent of her hair. “Don’t be afraid—pulling the trigger is on both of us.”

Henry Clark felt the girl in his arms shudder, then stop trembling. Grace Brooks quietly turned her head to glance at Henry Clark’s face, so close.

His lifeless eyes, set in a serious expression, were as hard as a blind Greek statue.

“Mm…” She leaned slightly against Henry Clark behind her and nodded softly.