47: Chapter 47 Annihilation War

6:20 AM, 500 meters outside the eastern suburban gas station.

Commander Lin Dong lay prone on the roof of a two-story abandoned auto repair shop, his right eye pressed against a monocular.

The morning mist was dissipating, and his field of vision gradually cleared, revealing the full view of the gas station—four fuel pumps stood side by side, with 20-cubic-meter underground fuel tanks beneath them.

The glass door of the convenience store had long since shattered, and the shelves were toppled and askew.

Two tanker trucks were parked on the lot, one horizontal and one vertical; the horizontal one's cab faced the road, while the vertical one was pressed against the east wall of the convenience store.

"Twelve behind the refueling island to the front left," Commander Lin Dong said in a low voice, his right fingertips tapping lightly. "Inside the convenience store, I can see at least five moving shadows through the glass. Three under the tanker truck, one of which is only crawling with half a body."

Behind him, Conscript squad leader Wang Wei propped himself up with one hand on the floor slab, poking his head out.

His panel appeared in Commander Lin Dong's retina: 【Conscript · Wang Wei, Lv.3, HP 300/300, Weapon: Type 56-2 Automatic Rifle, Status: Normal】.

"Platoon Leader, what's the total count?" Wang Wei asked.

Commander Lin Dong did not answer immediately.

He quickly ran through the data in his mind—based on his scan and dynamic estimation, there were about 40 to 50 on the ground in the refueling area, a higher density inside the convenience store, which meant at least 15 to 20 based on area, plus a few stragglers wandering around the tanker trucks.

He raised his left hand; the military digital watch on his wrist showed a temperature of 16 degrees Celsius, a level 3 southeasterly wind, and a wind speed of about 4 meters per second.

"Between 65 and 75 F-Class Zombies," Commander Lin Dong stated, simultaneously pulling a notebook from the side pocket of his tactical vest and quickly sketching a diagram with a pencil. "They're too spread out. If we open fire directly, the gunshots will attract all the zombies within 800 meters. There are at least 200 in the abandoned factory to the east, and a wave at the bend in the road to the west—I counted them during reconnaissance yesterday, about 150."

Wang Wei frowned. "Then we have to lure them out to fight."

"Right." Commander Lin Dong marked two points on the map. "Take two men, circle around to the east side, and set an ambush behind that abandoned bus 300 meters away. I'll use the tanker truck to create an explosion to attract most of the zombies to the open space on the east side of the gas station, and you'll be perfectly positioned on the flank to form crossfire."

Wang Wei stared at the map for three seconds and nodded. "Understood. What about the ones in the convenience store?"

"That's the second wave." Commander Lin Dong tapped the location of the convenience store with his pen tip. "The explosion will only attract zombies in the open; the ones inside the building will take five to eight seconds longer to come out. After you finish the first wave, immediately relocate to behind that row of scrapped cars on the south side of the convenience store to hit the second wave from the side and rear."

He closed the notebook and looked back at the four Conscripts in the repair shop—Wang Wei had two, and the remaining two were with him.

Including himself, that made five people for 75 zombies, averaging 15 per person.

Based on the body damage coefficient of an F-Class Zombie, it takes five to eight rifle rounds to the torso to knock one down, while a headshot kills instantly. This meant the margin for error was extremely low.

"Ammo." Commander Lin Dong reached out to Wang Wei.

Wang Wei pulled two stripper clips from the ammo pouch at his waist, each loaded with ten 7.62×39mm rounds.

Commander Lin Dong took them and pressed them into his Type 95 magazine—although his rifle and the Conscripts' Type 56 had different calibers, the ammunition wasn't interchangeable, so it had to be allocated in advance.

After filling the last magazine, he pulled the charging handle to chamber a round and engaged the safety.

"Remember." He looked into Wang Wei's eyes. "After I open fire and detonate the tanker truck, you have twenty seconds to get into your ambush positions. For the first wave, use three-round bursts, aim for the head, and control your rhythm when firing follow-up shots if you miss. Reload immediately after firing thirty rounds; don't get bogged down in the fight. After five minutes, regardless of how many are left, immediately retreat to the repair shop to regroup."

Wang Wei stood at attention. "Understood."

"Go."

The three Conscripts vaulted down the building and disappeared into the shadows of the ruins, crouching low.

Commander Lin Dong checked his watch: 6:31 AM.

He pulled out his walkie-talkie, tuned it to the preset channel, and lightly pressed the transmit button—after a short burst of static, Wang Wei's voice came through the earpiece: "Number One in position."

He waited another thirty seconds.

"Number Two in position."

"Number Three in position."

Commander Lin Dong took a deep breath, clipped the walkie-talkie back to his waist, and began a final check of his equipment: four rifle magazines, two pistol magazines, two grenades, a dagger, a roll of electrical tape, and a lighter—these were the tools for detonating the tanker truck.

He felt his left pants pocket, which contained a length of fuse he'd found at the repair shop, about 20 centimeters long, with a burn rate of about one centimeter per second.

That was enough.

6:42 AM, Commander Lin Dong arrived behind a low wall 40 meters to the east of the gas station.

From here, he could see the side of the tanker truck.

The horizontal one was a Jiefang brand, with a tank volume of about 20 cubic meters; based on a gasoline density of 0.75, it could hold about 15 tons.

Fifteen tons of gasoline, if completely vaporized and mixed with air, would have an explosive equivalent of dozens of tons of TNT.

But he didn't need anything that exaggerated—he just needed a big commotion that would make a loud noise and spark a fire.

He took the roll of electrical tape and the fuse from his backpack, then fished out a grenade.

The grenade was a Type 67, with a delay of three to 3.8 seconds and a charge of 40 grams of TNT.

He taped one end of the fuse to the grenade's safety lever, leaving 15 centimeters on the other end.

This way, after lighting the fuse, it would take 15 seconds for the grenade to detonate—enough time for him to retreat to a safe distance.

But he needed a carrier to get this thing next to the tanker truck.

Commander Lin Dong turned his head to look behind him; an electric bicycle was lying on its side five meters away.

He crawled over and stood the bike up—the battery still had power, and the headlight could turn on.

He stuffed the grenade into the bike basket, secured it with tape, and let one end of the fuse hang outside the basket.

Then, pushing the bike and keeping his body low, he slowly approached the tanker truck, using the cover of the low wall and abandoned vehicles.

Ten meters.

Five meters.

Three meters.

The closest zombie appeared eight meters to his left.

It was an F-Class Zombie wearing a gas station uniform, with half its face chewed away, exposing its gums and cheekbones.

It was circling near a pool of oil, but upon hearing the faint sound of the electric bike's tires crushing gravel, it whipped its head around.

Commander Lin Dong held his breath, not moving a muscle.

The visual radius of a zombie was only 20 meters, but they were extremely sensitive to moving objects.

His movement a moment ago had already been captured; if he moved even an inch now, it would pounce.

Seconds ticked by; the zombie tilted its head, emitting a low, guttural growl, seemingly trying to determine the source of the sound.

Commander Lin Dong's right hand rested on the hilt of his dagger.

The distance was too close; firing a shot would alert all the zombies.

If it pounced, he would have to resolve it in close quarters—he'd have to drive the dagger into its brain at an upward angle through the eye socket, finishing it within three seconds without letting it shriek.

The zombie took a step forward.

Just then, a dull thud came from the distance—something had fallen over inside the factory to the east.

The zombie's attention was diverted; it turned toward that direction, the growling in its throat ceased, and it slowly paced away.

Commander Lin Dong exhaled slowly.

He continued pushing the bike forward and finally stopped at the side of the tanker truck.

The cab faced east, and the rear was facing him.

He straightened up, leaned the electric bike against the tank, and pulled out the lighter from his pocket.

The lighter was a standard plastic windproof model he'd taken from the shelf of the gas station convenience store.

He flicked the flint wheel, the flame sprang up, and he brought it close to the end of the fuse.

The fuse began to hiss and burn, emitting a thin wisp of blue smoke.

Commander Lin Dong didn't hesitate; he turned and ran.

He didn't crouch, he didn't hide; he just sprinted at full speed—at 40 meters, the human speed limit was about five seconds, but with his gear and the complex terrain, it would take at least seven.

With the fuse burning for 15 seconds, he had enough time, but not much to spare.

Seven seconds later, he dove behind the low wall, gasping for breath.

The watch hand ticked.

Fourteen seconds.

Fifteen seconds.

Sixteen seconds.

No explosion.

Commander Lin Dong frowned, and just as he was about to peek out, a blinding white light erupted outside the low wall, followed immediately by a deafening roar—BOOM!!!

The shockwave from the grenade's explosion tore the electric bike apart, and shrapnel pierced the tank of the tanker truck.

But to detonate gasoline, you need flame and high heat, not just a small bomb with forty-something grams of TNT.

In that instant, Commander Lin Dong's heart leaped into his throat—if it only ruptured the tank without igniting it, the gasoline would leak out, and everything would be in vain.

0.3 seconds later, he heard the sound he wanted.

WHOOSH—!!!

A fireball erupted from the tanker truck; orange-red flames soared into the sky, and thick smoke billowed upward.

A second explosion followed immediately—this time it was the deflagration of the fuel-air mixture; the shockwave carried a wave of heat that expanded in all directions, and the scorching temperature could be felt even behind the low wall.

Commander Lin Dong poked half his head out from behind the low wall and saw that the gas station was now a sea of fire.

The cab of that tanker truck had been blown away, the tank was torn in two, and burning gasoline flowed across the ground, igniting the rear of the other tanker truck.

The convenience store's doors and windows were shattered by the shockwave, and glass shards were scattered everywhere.

What about the zombies?

He scanned quickly—almost all the zombies in the open were drawn by the explosion and were converging on the fire from all directions.

Those zombies that had originally been behind the refueling island and under the tanker trucks were now walking toward the flames with stiff strides.

Their panel data flickered in his retina: HP ranging from 80 to 120, an average movement speed of 3.2 meters per second, all displaying 【Aggro Locked: Fire Source】.

One, two, ten, twenty...

In just over a dozen seconds, at least 50 zombies had gathered in the open space on the east side of the gas station.

They circled the fire; some had their clothes ignited and burned to a crisp, yet they felt nothing, still wandering mechanically along the edge of the flames.

Commander Lin Dong raised his binoculars and looked toward the abandoned bus 300 meters away.

Wang Wei's figure flashed out from behind the bus, leading two Conscripts as they moved quickly toward their predetermined ambush position.

Their movements were clean and decisive; they moved with light footsteps, weaving through the ruins without making a single unnecessary sound.

Twenty seconds later, the three of them reached the ambush point—behind a row of scrapped cars.

Wang Wei mounted his rifle, aiming at the flank of the zombie horde.

The other two Conscripts fanned out to the left and right, forming a 30-degree angle.

This was a standard ambush formation, which could both maximize the advantage of crossfire and avoid friendly fire.

Commander Lin Dong pressed his walkie-talkie: "Open fire."

RAT-TAT-TAT—!

Wang Wei's Type 56 fired first, a three-round burst.

For a well-trained Conscript, a distance of three hundred meters posed no pressure.

The first bullet struck a zombie's skull, the second missed, and the third hit another's neck.

Both zombies fell to the ground, and the HP on the panel instantly dropped to zero.

Rat-tat, rat-tat-tat!

The Conscripts on the left and right flanks opened fire simultaneously.

The three rifles wove a net of firepower, bullets pouring into the zombie horde from the side and rear.

The F-Class Zombies were slow to react to the gunfire; they were still turning toward the source of the fire, leaving their backs completely exposed to the muzzles.

In Commander Lin Dong's binoculars, the zombies' HP bars were emptying one by one.

Every bullet that struck the head meant an instant drop to zero; hits to the torso depleted HP by thirty to fifty, requiring follow-up shots.

However, the Conscripts strictly followed the discipline of three-round bursts, ensuring at least one headshot per round, making the work clean and efficient.

Fifteen seconds, eighteen down.

Thirty seconds, thirty-five down.

At this moment, the zombie horde finally reacted—the threat was coming from the side and rear.

They began to turn, moving toward the car defensive position.

But their movement speed was only a little over three meters per second, while the Conscripts' rate of fire was six hundred rounds per minute.

The distance of thirty meters would take them ten seconds to cover, and in those ten seconds, at least another twenty could be taken down.

Rat-tat-tat!

Wang Wei changed magazines and continued firing.

His barrel was starting to overheat, but the accuracy of his bursts had not dropped.

A Speed-Type Mutant charged out from behind the zombie horde, its movement speed significantly faster—Commander Lin Dong's panel displayed: 【Lv.4 Speed Type, HP 250, Move Speed 7.8 m/s】.

"Mutant! Focus fire!" Commander Lin Dong ordered over the radio.

The three rifles aimed at the dark shadow simultaneously.

The first round of three-round bursts missed completely—it was too fast, and the lead was miscalculated.

In the second round, Wang Wei lowered his muzzle, aiming two meters ahead of the Mutant.

Rat-tat-tat!

The 7.62mm bullets struck the Mutant's left leg, HP dropped by 120, and its movement speed plummeted.

Immediately after, the left and right flanks fired follow-up shots, two hitting the head and one hitting the chest.

The Mutant crashed to the ground, HP hitting zero.

Forty seconds, forty-seven zombies down.

The remaining twenty-something zombies finally charged to within ten meters of the front of the car position.

Wang Wei stood up and roared: "Grenades!"

The three men simultaneously pulled out the Type 67s hanging on their chests, pulled the pins, threw them, and dove to the ground.

Boom, boom, boom!

The three grenades exploded in the middle of the zombie horde, shrapnel sweeping through, and the shockwave overturned a whole group.

Commander Lin Dong poked half his body out from behind the low wall and saw that almost all of the twenty-something zombies had fallen, with only three still crawling.

The Conscripts stood up and finished them off one by one.

The first wave, ended.

Time elapsed: fifty-three seconds. Sixty-eight zombies annihilated, approximately one hundred and eighty rounds of ammunition consumed, and three grenades used.

Just as Commander Lin Dong was about to order a retreat, the convenience store's glass door suddenly shattered.

Seven or eight zombies rushed out from inside the store, followed by a dozen, then twenty-something—there were more zombies hidden in the convenience store than expected.

They had been drawn out by the sound of the grenade explosions and were now charging madly toward the car position.

Wang Wei quickly checked his magazine: "I have half a magazine left!"

"Me too!" the Conscripts on the left and right flanks reported simultaneously.

Commander Lin Dong's brain raced.

Twenty-something zombies, about eighty meters from the car position, moving at 3.2 meters per second, would take twenty-five seconds to arrive.

The Conscripts had about fifteen rounds left each, totaling forty-five rounds. Estimating a 70% headshot rate, they could kill about thirty. It was enough.

But he saw a more dangerous signal.

At the entrance of the convenience store, another wave of zombies poured out.

This time, it wasn't F-Class, but a creature noticeably larger—the panel appeared: 【Lv.8 Strength-Type Mutant, HP 800, Attack Power 35, Skill: Charge】.

Eight hundred HP would require at least twelve headshots or thirty body shots.

The characteristic of a Strength-Type Mutant was instant kills in melee combat; once it got close, the Conscripts couldn't withstand a single hit.

"Retreat!" Commander Lin Dong roared into the radio, "Abandon the position, retreat to the auto repair shop! I'll draw that big one away!"

Wang Wei hesitated: "Platoon Leader—"

"Execute the order!"

The three Conscripts stood up immediately, retreating while firing.

Before retreating, Wang Wei fired a short burst, taking down the two F-Class Zombies charging at the front, then turned and sprinted away.

Commander Lin Dong stood up from behind the low wall, raised his rifle, and aimed at the Strength-Type Mutant.

Rat-tat-tat! A long burst; all five bullets struck the Mutant's torso.

HP dropped by 150, and the Mutant suddenly turned its head, locking onto him.

A line of red text appeared on its panel: 【Aggro Locked: Commander Lin Dong】.

"Come on then," Commander Lin Dong whispered, then turned and ran.

His retreat route had been planned in advance—cutting diagonally east from behind the low wall, passing through an abandoned factory, and circling back to the auto repair shop.

This route was about four hundred meters long and had enough cover to maneuver around.

The Strength-Type Mutant's movement speed was five meters per second, faster than him, but its turning radius was large, so he could use the terrain to stall for time.

Heavy footsteps came from behind.

Thud, thud, thud—every step the Mutant took sent gravel flying.

Commander Lin Dong didn't look back, only stared at the route ahead.

Fifteen meters ahead was a low wall; after climbing over it, there was a row of sheet-metal sheds.

Between the sheds was a narrow alley only one meter wide. The Mutant was too big to fit and would have to go around.

He rushed to the low wall, braced with one hand, and vaulted over.

Upon landing, his left foot stepped on a piece of gravel and twisted, causing a sharp pain to surge through him.

Commander Lin Dong gritted his teeth, stumbled two steps to steady himself, and continued charging forward.

The low wall behind him collapsed with a crash—the Mutant had smashed directly through the wall.

There was no time to enter the sheds.

Commander Lin Dong turned sharply and rushed toward an abandoned truck on the left.

He dove under the truck and rolled out the other side.

Just as he stood up, the Mutant had already slammed into the truck's cargo bed.

Boom! The cargo bed was dented, and the entire vehicle shifted half a meter.

Commander Lin Dong took the opportunity to dash into the narrow alley between the sheds.

The narrow alley was only eighty centimeters wide; he squeezed in sideways and moved forward quickly.

From behind came the Mutant's angry roar, followed by the sound of it hitting the sheet metal—it really couldn't get in and was going around.

Commander Lin Dong passed through the narrow alley, and the view suddenly opened up.

The auto repair shop had arrived.

He looked back and saw the Mutant circling from two hundred meters away, angrily smashing through obstacles along the way.

Commander Lin Dong raised his gun and aimed—distance: two hundred and twenty meters, wind speed: four meters per second, lead needed to be corrected.

He took a deep breath, held it, and pulled the trigger.

Rat.

One shot.

Hit the head. The Mutant's HP dropped by one hundred.

Rat.

Another shot.

Hit the same spot. HP dropped by another one hundred.

The Mutant roared and charged toward him, the distance closing to one hundred and eighty meters.

Commander Lin Dong continued firing—three shots, four shots, five shots—when the fifth shot hit the head, the Mutant's HP finally dropped to zero.

Its massive body crashed to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Commander Lin Dong lowered his muzzle and gasped for air.

Wang Wei's voice came over the radio: "Platoon Leader! We've arrived at the auto repair shop! Where are you?"

"I'll be there soon," Commander Lin Dong said.

He turned and walked toward the auto repair shop, a sharp pain shooting through his left foot with every step.

But this injury was nothing; what mattered was that the mission was accomplished—the zombies in the gas station area had been cleared, and now they could safely extract those eight tons of gasoline.

However, when he walked through the gate of the auto repair shop, Wang Wei's expression looked wrong.

"What's wrong?" Commander Lin Dong asked.

Wang Wei handed over the radio: "Platoon Leader, listen."

Intermittent calls came over the radio, on a military frequency.

The voice was very young, trembling, but the words were clear: "...static... East of Beiling City... static... Armed Police Squadron... requesting support... repeat... Armed Police Squadron... requesting support... static..."

Commander Lin Dong took the radio and tuned it to that frequency.

"...We are near the Iron Mine in the eastern suburbs... static... surrounded by a zombie horde... ammunition running low... requesting any surviving forces... static... if you hear this, please respond..."

Iron Mine.

Commander Lin Dong's heart skipped a beat.

The small Iron Mine indicated by the ore detector was located at fifteen degrees east of south, nine kilometers away—not only was there a mine, but also a trapped Armed Police Squadron.

He pressed the transmit button: "This is a survivor from the Beiling City military camp, I hear your call. Report your specific location and the number of people remaining."

The radio was silent for three seconds, then a voice filled with surprise came through: "We... we are on the third floor of the ore processing plant, five hundred meters east of the Iron Mine! There are seventeen of us still able to fight, six of whom are injured! How many people do you have?"

Commander Lin Dong glanced at the four Conscripts beside him, then looked at himself.

"Five," he said, "but we have guns."

The silence on the other end of the radio lasted even longer.

Then the young voice spoke up, with a hint of resignation after despair: "Five... that's fine. At least someone knows we're here."

"Hold on," Commander Lin Dong said, "we will arrive before dawn."

He turned off the radio and looked up at the eastern sky.

The morning mist had dissipated, and the sun had just risen, painting the ruins of the eastern industrial zone in a golden red.

Nine kilometers, seventeen armed police, six injured, ammunition running low—these numbers combined into an equation in his mind.

Time, distance, route, zombie density, ammunition consumption, rescue plan.

"Wang Wei," he said.

"Present."

"Check the ammunition, refuel. We leave in twenty minutes."

Wang Wei stood at attention: "Yes!"

Commander Lin Dong looked down at his left foot; the ankle was already swollen.

He rummaged through his backpack for a first-aid kit, tore open an elastic bandage, and skillfully wrapped it tight.

The pain was still there, but it didn't hinder him from walking.

At least, not right now.

He looked up toward the east, under that golden-red sky, nine kilometers away, someone was waiting for him.

What he didn't know was that around that Iron Mine, besides the trapped Armed Police Squadron, there was a Mutant nest currently forming.

And inside the nest, an existence whose panel had almost never appeared before was slowly opening its eyes.

From the radio, that young voice came through one last time: "Thank you... no matter who you are... thank you."

Commander Lin Dong did not answer.

He simply clipped the radio back to his waist, pulled the bolt, and confirmed that a bullet was chambered.

【End of Chapter】