The crosshair drifted, and just as it was about to lock onto the white man's head, gunshots suddenly rang out from outside.

On one of the five buses following behind the two, a crack suddenly appeared, and a pitch-black gun barrel extended from within, then blew open the skull of the soldier guarding the door, sending sticky liquid splattering everywhere.

"Ah!" Grace Brooks let out a startled cry, the bloody scene reflected with perfect clarity in her pupils through the scope.

"Someone fired a shot?" Henry Clark listened to the voice in his earpiece, suddenly hugged the trembling girl in his arms tighter, and lowered his voice, saying, "Don't think about anything else, just listen to me!"

He spoke in a deep tone: "Aim!"

"Aim..." The panicked Grace Brooks tried hard to line up the black man's figure in the crosshairs, her trembling hand steadied by Henry Clark's palm, becoming rock solid.

"Fire!"

Grace Brooks's hand shook slightly, and she whispered, "Fire..."

Her slender finger suddenly pulled the trigger.

A silver bullet spun out from the muzzle, shattered the glass, then tore through the air ahead with a sharp howl, instantly crossing the long distance and shooting toward the laughing black man.

In the slowed-down moment, the smile on the black man's face became bizarre, his superhuman dynamic vision caught the bullet's trajectory, and a slightly surprised look appeared in his fierce eyes.

No longer human, his body moved rapidly through the air, retreating backward. The spinning bullet grazed his shoulder and struck the road behind.

The deformed bullet bounced off the asphalt, spinning through the air, and was suddenly caught by the man with the cigar.

The fair-skinned man with glasses exhaled a puff of smoke, looked at the twisted bullet in his palm, and felt a faint burning pain on his hand—that was the heat from the silver.

It didn't stop. In burst-fire mode, bullets kept spewing from the muzzle, the aim shifting with the recoil, and a series of deafening blasts echoed from the mansion until a magazine was completely emptied.

But those two were no longer in their original spot. Like phantoms, they darted about under the cover of gunfire, finally standing on the bullet-riddled road, looking disdainfully toward where the bullets had come from.

The black man opened his lips and let out a strange laugh, two sharp fangs exposed, raising his middle finger high toward the shattered window.

"Have we been discovered?"

The hippie black man stood on the bullet-riddled road, looked at another guard at the door, pressed his thumb and forefinger together, and said, "Well then, let it rain!"

At the snap of his fingers, countless cracks appeared on the sealed bus, and a dense array of gun barrels extended from within. In an instant, a hail of bullets turned him into a sieve.

When the gunfire ceased, the doors of the five sealed buses suddenly flew open as if blown apart, and heavy footsteps sounded from within.

Amid the continuous heavy footsteps, countless soldiers filed out of the buses, each fully armed, wearing helmets, holding riot shields and black firearms.

The stench of rot wafted from the slowly closing ranks behind the two—that was an army of armed zombies, unafraid of bullets, unafraid of death, eternally hungry, transformed into the most terrifying force.

A low, strange roar came from their throats—a call of hunger. The zombies, eager to devour flesh, had already caught the scent of life so close at hand.

Frenzied, ravenous, longing to tear out the throats and flesh of the living.

The black man's smile grew even more twisted. He drew two heavy black guns, one in each hand, raised them high toward the sky, and let out a bizarre laugh: "Since we've been discovered, let's just charge in head-on!"

"As long as I can kill, I don't care who it is—whether it's the Knights or Integra or whatever..." His eyes pierced the distance, landing on Grace Brooks's face, his gaze hungry and demonic: "Kill them all!"

The moment he finished speaking, the sound of synchronized footsteps rang out. The starving vampire led the zombie ranks to tear down the iron barricade blocking the road and stepped into the space beyond the fence.

The battle had begun.

Chapter 7 Are you afraid?

"What was the result?" After the bullets were spent, Henry Clark asked.

"I... I missed..." Grace Brooks's voice was on the verge of tears. "I'm sorry..."

"It's okay." Henry Clark patted her head. "Let's keep going."

Suddenly, the voice of the middle-aged man Uncle Clark came through the earpiece: "First time seeing such an outstanding rookie, haha, aren't you scared?"

"If you're scared, you'll die." Henry Clark replied calmly. "Besides, I've long since gotten used to fear."

After more than ten years of living in darkness, he was used to surviving in terror, never knowing what the next second would bring, or whether there would be a pit ahead deep enough to break his bones.

Fear, agitation, anger, madness, depression...