The terrifying part about the zombie plague wasn't just that it killed thought, but that every cell turned into an independent organism. It wasn't true immortality, but rather a body made up of billions of living bacteria acting as one. Even if the head got chopped off, it could still hunt for food, and the rest of the body would continue devouring whatever it could find. Over time, these creatures kept mutating and evolving until they became the unstoppable third generation. Under a microscope, every inch of their flesh was crawling with countless claws and mouths.
The third generation had developed self-repair. The scariest thing about bacteria was their willingness to sacrifice themselves for the colony. Those that survived such sacrifice evolved to become immune to most forms of damage and even more terrifyingly strong.
Sure, a hippo normally weighed around three or four tons and stretched about three or four meters long, but these weren't hippos anymore. They were massive hulks made entirely of powerful living bacteria. So when six people surrounded one and tried to shoot its eyes and head with light machine guns, thinking they'd disable it, they were dead wrong.
You could shoot, but you couldn't kill it. The bullets only damaged a tiny fraction of its flesh, barely scratching the surface.
You couldn't capture it either. Even if eighteen people teamed up, they couldn't drag away a single monster. The things were monstrously strong, easily enraged, and loved wallowing in swamps while feeding on fresh meat. These mercenaries were basically walking buffets to them.
Anyone foolish enough to imitate Jing Shu's method of cutting off a hippo's leg and tying it up ended up as lunch. Every bit of flesh they lost was instantly replenished by whatever they ate next. Whatever damage they managed to inflict became healing fuel. All their effort had gone to waste.
Jing Shu was amused. These oversized beasts were no joke, and they didn't seem to have any real weakness. If they had one fatal flaw, it'd be their endless hunger.
As long as they had food, they'd grow stronger and stronger. Rotting meat, blood, living creatures—even swamp bugs and plankton—were all on the menu. In the apocalypse, monsters that had evolved like this could easily survive.
But starve them for a few days, and everything changed. The bacteria inside would enter a self-preservation mode, devouring each other. Within ten or fifteen days, they'd eat themselves into extinction.
"Did you record that?" Jing Shu asked, patting Xiao Hei on the shoulder.
"Yeah, got it all. But… what's the point of recording this?"
Tank turned to her. "So, what's your plan now?"
Jing Shu smiled. "This stuff's precious research material. You can't complete a mission halfway. We've gotta do it right."
Besides, she needed proof that these people weren't killed by her squad, but by the monsters. After all, they were assigned by higher-ups, and their deaths would need an explanation.
Trying to steal her credit? Not that easy.
Tank frowned, about to ask what research footage had to do with any of this, when the monsters suddenly went berserk. It was like they'd just learned to see humans—and worse, to work together.
"Oh, shit! Shoot them! Kill them now!"
"They're coming straight for us! Jesus, how are they moving that fast?!"
"Oh my god!"
"Help!"
The beasts that had been quietly hunting before now turned feral, charging with terrifying speed. The mercenaries were caught completely off guard.
They had no special abilities, no superhuman speed, nothing. Within minutes, most were ripped apart. A few tried to run, but none got far—Ling Ling picked them off one by one with precise headshots.
Eighteen men. All dead.
Talk about poetic justice. Tried to steal the peach, ended up losing their lives instead.
"Alright," Jing Shu said coolly, "our turn."
Truth be told, figuring out how to deliver these living beasts to the Black Market had been a real headache for Tank's group. The creatures were too massive. They could either chain them up and drag them there or haul them on trailers.
But Jing Shu had another idea. She chopped up some of the corpses and used the flesh to lure the hippos downhill. Then she tied more meat to the back of a truck, stringing the beasts in a row like obedient livestock.
She tossed them chunks of meat along the way, and they happily followed, galloping behind the truck like it was feeding time—never once slowing down.
Ling Ling sat there cleaning her AK47 while Tank's team scavenged weapons. In no time, all eighteen mercenaries' gear ended up in their hands.
There's a saying: war brings wealth fast, and robbery's the quickest way to get rich.
Most of these guns were outdated, though, not nearly as good as what Tank's group already had. Still, the truck was packed full of them. Selling everything at the Black Market would bring in a tidy sum. But the real money now wasn't in guns—it was in bullets.
After four hours of feeding them meat, they finally got three giant hippos to the underground Black Market. As they drove through the slums, the locals stared in horror. Xiao Hei, sitting up front, was practically shouting their arrival like a street vendor.
And he had every reason to. The Black Market sent over a hundred people to receive the beasts, secretly moving them to a restricted zone.
That's when Jing Shu's group met one of the so-called "nobles" of the underground world—George.
The fat man clapped his hands after watching the full video, his translator relaying his words through Xiao Hei: "Marvelous! Outstanding work! Congratulations, mercenary squad. You've completed a B-rank mission and earned 8,000 Black Market coins. For capable people like you, the Black Market always keeps its doors open. As for the other squads—oh heavens, may they rest in peace."
Just like that, Jing Shu's squad became a B-rank mercenary team—the fastest promotion in the market's history. Word spread fast. The three squads that had tried to take over the mission were wiped out, and only this single Asian team made it back alive. Aside from one injured man, the rest were completely unscathed.
They even had video proof showing that it was the monsters, not them, who'd killed the others. Yet somehow, these same monsters had obediently followed the Asian team back alive.
"I told you," someone in the Black Market muttered, "those Asians are shaman. They know some kind of black magic."
Jing Shu's group didn't care about the gossip. After she stitched up Monkey's shoulder, their biggest concern was finding a place to sleep.
The underground Black Market didn't have quake-resistant buildings like Xingfu Shiyuan. With the quakes getting stronger by the day, collapse was always a risk. Still, it was way better than the slums outside. At least here, you didn't have to worry about filth, chaos, or starving people stealing your stuff.
Out there, though, at least you had a chance to run when the ground started shaking.