A slow, burning anger began to rise in Xiao Ke's throat. These were brothers-in-arms? Soldiers of the Black Shark Legion? Just standing there, watching them die?
He didn't have time to process the betrayal. The Hellhound was a relentless force of nature. His team's Hornet assault rifles, combined with the thunderous roar of Luo Hou's heavy machine gun, had woven a wall of lead that the beast couldn't seem to breach. Each time it lunged, the storm of bullets sent it reeling, crashing to the earth with shuddering force. Its hide was a gruesome tapestry of torn flesh and splintered bone, but with no pain to register and a zombie's unholy resilience, it just kept getting back up, its fury growing with every wound. This wasn't a fight for territory anymore; it was a grudge match.
Then came the sound every soldier dreads: the hollow click of an empty chamber. First Duan Canglong, then the others. Finally, Luo Hou's machine gun sputtered and died. The sudden silence was more terrifying than the noise.
"Captain, I'm dry!" Luo Hou yelled, his arms trembling from the violent recoil. "What's the play?"
Xiao Ke's eyes darted to the Hellhound. It was on its feet again, swaying but still lethal. Its remaining eyes burned with malevolent intelligence as it realized their guns had fallen silent. It was gathering itself for the killing blow.
Thinking fast, Xiao Ke drew his sidearm and fired two precise shots into the door hinges of a wrecked jeep nearby. With a screech of tortured metal, he wrenched the door free, hoisting it like a makeshift shield. "Pistols!" he roared at his men. "When they're empty, use your knives! We are not dying here! We are putting this thing in the ground!"
Re-energized by his command, the squad drew their sidearms. The Hellhound, a mangled but determined wreck, ignored the others and fixed its gaze on Xiao Ke. It charged.
Xiao Ke braced, the heavy car door his only defense. He emptied his pistol at the advancing horror—bang, bang, bang, bang—then tossed the useless firearm aside and drew his combat knife. With the shield in his left hand and the gleaming steel in his right, he roared a challenge into the monster's face. "Come on, you ugly son of a bitch! Let's see who's still standing!"
The Hellhound leaped. As it sailed through the air, Duan Canglong and the others opened up, their pistol rounds peppering its body. The shots lacked the stopping power of the rifles, but the sheer kinetic impact made the beast shudder in mid-air, robbing its pounce of its full, devastating force.
Even so, the impact was like being hit by a freight train. The Hellhound's claws slammed into the car door with a deafening CRUNCH, buckling the steel and tearing through it in several places. The force sent Xiao Ke staggering back, his boots digging into the dirt as he fought to stay upright. Under the cover of the battered shield, he saw his opening. The beast's leftmost neck was already shredded nearly to the bone by machine gun fire. With a guttural yell, Xiao Ke lunged forward and drove his knife into the mangled flesh.
There was a sickening, wet crack, and the head tumbled to the ground.
The creature shrieked, a sound of pure agony and rage, and slammed its full body weight into him. Xiao Ke and his shield went flying, crashing hard against the ground. Winded and bruised, he looked up to see the two-headed beast, now critically wounded and unstable, staggering toward him to finish the job.
"Captain, look out!" Duan Canglong screamed as the last of their pistol shots hammered into the monster's flank.
Xiao Ke knew this was it. This was the end of the line, one way or another. He pushed himself to his feet, leaving the ruined shield on the ground. Gripping his knife, his knuckles white, he locked eyes with the dying beast. "Alright, you bastard," he breathed, sucking in a ragged breath. "Let's finish this."
He was about to charge, to meet the Hellhound in a final, desperate clash, when a figure exploded from the sidelines. It was a blur of motion, impossibly fast. Before Xiao Ke could even process what was happening, the figure—the Centurion—was upon the Hellhound. His combat knife, which seemed to glow with a faint light, flashed twice. Swish, swish. The two remaining heads fell to the ground with a wet thud. The massive body stood for a second, then collapsed into a heap.
Silence.
Xiao Ke stared, first in stunned disbelief, then in cold, rising fury as he recognized their "savior." It was the man who had been enjoying a cigarette just moments before.
Duan Canglong found his voice first. "Who the hell are you?" he spat, his face a mask of confusion and anger.
The Centurion ignored him, kneeling beside the corpse and expertly carving something from the base of the central skull.
Luo Hou finally understood. "You waited for us to do the dirty work just to swoop in and steal the glory?" he bellowed.
The Centurion stood up, wiping a crystal-clear, pulsating orb—the zombie's brain core—on his sleeve. He held it up to the light, admiring it, before finally turning his condescending gaze on them. "Stealing?" he said with a lazy, mocking grin. "I don't see how. I'm the one who put it down. This is my kill."
He then shifted his attention to Duan Canglong. "As for who I am, allow me to introduce myself. I am Centurion Qiao Mingxuan of the Black Shark Legion. I'm here under direct orders from Legion Commander Bai Longyin himself to provide support to Commander Qin Bing."
Qiao Mingxuan then offered a self-serving explanation. Commander Bai Longyin, concerned about the weak defenses of Ginkgo Town, had sent him with troops and supplies. Upon arrival, he'd heard Qin Bing was on a zombie sweep and had rushed out to "help," conveniently finding them first. What he failed to mention was his long-standing, unrequited pursuit of Qin Bing, or the fact that when he saw a squad of grunts about to take down a high-value target like a Level-Five Hellhound, he saw an opportunity. Poaching a kill from a lower-ranking soldier wasn't just common in the Imperial army; for an officer from a noble family like him, it was practically a perk of the job.
Xiao Ke's voice was dangerously low. "We bled for that thing. We lost a man. You stood over there smoking while we did the heavy lifting, then you jumped in at the last second to pick the fruit off the tree we planted. You call that honor?"
Qiao Mingxuan's smile vanished. He strode over until he was inches from Xiao Ke's face. "What did you just say to me?"
They were the same height, and Xiao Ke didn't flinch. He met the Centurion's arrogant stare head-on. "I said that killing belongs to all of us. The merit should be shared."
"Shared?" Qiao Mingxuan chuckled, a humorless sound. "On your authority?"
The corner of his mouth twitched, and Xiao Ke knew what was coming. A split-second later, a boot flew at his chest. Xiao Ke's reflexes were sharp, and he got his arms up just in time to block the worst of it, but the force was immense. He was sent skidding backward several feet, his boots carving furrows in the dirt.
"You son of a bitch!" Duan Canglong roared, raising his knife as the rest of the squad surged forward.
But it was over before it began. Qiao Mingxuan's two men snapped their assault rifles up, the muzzles pointed squarely at the squad's chests. "I wouldn't," one of them said, his voice flat and cold.
They were out of ammo, exhausted, and now outgunned. All they could do was stand there, trembling with helpless rage.
Qiao Mingxuan knew he couldn't just execute a Decurion and his squad—not Qin Bing's squad, anyway. That would be too messy. So he simply smirked, the picture of untouchable authority. He gave the pulsating brain core in his hand one last, triumphant look.
"A lot of angry faces," he mocked, turning to leave. "I'm taking the core. Enjoy the cleanup, boys."