Ch. 7 - Who’s the Fiercer One?

Wasteland Nation

Sweat dripped from Chen Liu’s forehead, hitting the dusty ground and vanishing instantly. He stood motionless, facing two mutated dogs in a tense standoff that dragged on for nearly ten minutes. Neither side dared move first. His grip on the gateball mallet tightened, the sponge handle soaking up the sweat pouring from his palms. If it slips, I’m done.

The dog behind him broke first. GROWL—it leapt, fangs aiming for his neck in a lethal strike. Chen Liu didn’t flinch. He’d studied power generation that morning—force from feet, through waist, to arms. Now, he thought, his face steady. Without looking, he pivoted, leaned forward, and swung the mallet with both hands, unleashing his strongest blow. Surprise was his edge. Bang—the mallet smashed the dog’s skull with a sickening thud. The impact bent the shaft. Awoo—the dog wailed, collapsing unconscious like a cut string.

But the yellow dog in front moved too, a blur of motion. Its fangs sank into Chen Liu’s calf, slicing through muscle to bone. Argh—he stifled a scream, pain searing through him. They hunt like a pack, he thought, his face twisting with realization. The rear attack was meant to distract while the leader struck. But the yellow dog misjudged Chen Liu’s sharp senses and lethal counter, leaving it alone.

No time to hesitate. Chen Liu, still reeling from his hit, spun and swung the bent mallet at the yellow dog. Awoo—it released his leg, tearing away a chunk of flesh as it leapt back. Argh—Chen Liu roared, pain fueling a feral glint in his eyes. He matched the dog’s savagery, locking gazes with it. Show weakness, and I’m dead, he thought, to keep himself going. Animals sensed fear, so he stood still, mallet gripped tightly, refusing to bluff.

The yellow dog’s eyes flickered, then it turned and fled. Chen Liu waited until it vanished before bandaging his leg with gauze. This’ll scar, he thought, his face grim. He approached the unconscious dog, grabbed a rock, and smashed its skull repeatedly until it was pulp. He dug out its prism-shaped crystal. and hid the body for later retrieval. Mutated beast meat’s valuable. His thought was interrupted by a grim sight. A human skeleton lay nearby, stripped of flesh, organs scattered. Bite marks told the story—devoured by the dogs, likely an ambush spot. How many died here? he thought, his face darkening. A rat nibbled at the remains, its red eyes flashing before it scurried off. Even rats are mutating, he realised. In this world, danger lurked everywhere. Dragging his injured leg, he pressed on.

At the fire station, Chen Liu exhaled in relief. It was intact, unlooted. He smashed the glass case and found three fire axes—two long, one short, all high-carbon steel. The long axes, nearly a meter and six pounds, were deadly but too heavy for prolonged use, especially against agile foes like cats or dogs. The short axe, 40 centimeters and 1.5 pounds, felt perfect. This is the one. He was satisfied.

He headed back, collecting the dog’s corpse at the junction. With the short axe, he cut through zombies effortlessly, despite his limp. Corpses fell like wheat, their skulls splitting under precise strikes. The fights thrilled him, though his axe technique relied on brute strength. He took a mental note about practicing. Back at the villa by noon, he skinned and gutted the dog, boiling chunks with salt. The meat was tender, rich, and energy-packed, aiding his cultivation. It turned out to be better than noodles.

Checking WeChat, he learned most survivors had reached the cafeteria. Of over two thousand sanatorium residents, fewer than 150 remained—a survival rate under 10%. Some failed to awaken; others were eaten. The group was adapting, forming a new order. Humans are resilient. A flicker of admiration crossed his face.

Ch. 7 - Who’s the Fiercer One?

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