CHAPTER 170: CHAPTER 92: RIVERS OF BLOOD (5.6)_2

Zhang Feng climbed to the top floor, reached the rooftop, and gazed to the left.

There were all residential buildings over there.

But for the most part, zombies roamed inside or outside the courtyards.

Farther away, it was blocked by many buildings and couldn’t be seen.

"You guys wait a moment."

Zhang Feng instructed the group behind him, then ran a couple of steps, and to everyone’s shock, leaped to another rooftop.

Then he jumped again.

After jumping across several rooftops, Zhang Feng went down the stairs, arrived at a roadside building on a high floor, and climbed to the highest floor, the sixth.

From here, he looked around.

Zhang Feng quickly identified an old neighborhood.

About a hundred meters away, only two zombies were wandering in the courtyard.

There was also an undamaged large iron gate at the entrance.

As long as it was cleaned up and the zombies inside the building were wiped out, it would be an excellent place for training.

But precisely because there were few zombies in the courtyard, there were some sandbags squeezed open, broken tables, and benches under the iron gate at the entrance.

Zhang Feng suspected there were survivors in this courtyard.

Food should be available too.

Zhang Feng quickly confirmed his thoughts and then returned.

Upon returning to the original place.

Zhang Feng said to Ah Sheng and the others, "I saw a neighborhood, right on our way here, separated by just a street at the time.

And I suspect the reason we didn’t find anything on our way here

is that the survivors in that courtyard ahead collected it all."

"What should we do?" Old Gao asked, opening a new pack of cigarettes, offering one to Zhang Feng, "Brother Zhang, you say it, I’ll follow you."

This pack of cigarettes was found on the road.

A total of two packs.

At the time, Old Gao and the others treated it like a treasure.

"Me too!"

"I’ll listen to the boss!"

The others also whispered their loyalty.

The reason they didn’t dare speak loudly was out of fear of attracting zombies, leading to them being besieged.

Then they would have to hop rooftops too.

Ah Sheng, however, didn’t speak and just followed close behind Zhang Feng.

"Let’s go take a look." Zhang Feng took a puff and suddenly wanted to cough.

It was then that Zhang Feng remembered he didn’t smoke.

The act of accepting and lighting the cigarette was completely out of habit.

"Let’s give it a couple of minutes." Although Zhang Feng didn’t cough, he felt dizzy from ’his own’ first smoke.

This state wasn’t suitable for going out.

"Alright." The others didn’t know why, never thinking it was Zhang Feng’s first cigarette.

Because Zhang Feng’s smoking moves were exceptionally skillful.

This was the result of years spent in the Criminal World honing his smoking skills.

’Sometimes when focused on thinking, thoughts drift, and some old habits unconsciously resurface.’

Zhang Feng, feeling dizzy and with his mind wandering, took advantage of this leisure time, finding a bit of relaxation, sat at the edge of the rooftop, gazed into the distance, and reminisced about the past.

Meanwhile, Old Gao and the others, seeing the boss smoking and lost in thought like this, always felt the boss wasn’t a young man, but rather an old man with many stories.

However, this wasn’t because they had strong observational skills, making them so acute.

Rather, before the apocalypse, they had seen this in many elders.

For example, in courtyards at their doorsteps or on the street, some old men just liked to sit quietly, perhaps reminiscing about certain people, or certain times.

After finishing a cigarette and resting a little longer.

"Let’s go."

Zhang Feng quickly snapped out of his sentimental mood and returned to his normal state.

Because Zhang Feng knew well that zombies wouldn’t spare him because of his many stories.

Nor would they pull up small benches to sit around him quietly, listening to his past stories.

...

Quite absurd.

Zhang Feng initially guessed there should be someone in this courtyard.

But as they arrived and roughly cleared a circle.

Zhang Feng found no one in this neighborhood.

It was only when the group circled to the back of the building did they find a large gap in the courtyard wall, with a car perched inside it.

Outside, there were wandering zombies, some still wearing relatively new clothes.

"It seems this car crashed into the wall, leading the people inside to evacuate from here."

Zhang Feng observed for a while, then shook his head, "They probably thought the sound of crashing would attract zombies around.

To avoid being besieged in the future and unable to find food, they evacuated the building in advance."

"If it were me, I’d stay in the building." Old Gao sighed, "Survive one day at a time, maybe in a few days, these zombies will scatter."

"I would rush out, wouldn’t wait." A robust man said, "Waiting gives no reliability, it’s entirely up to their mood."

"I think they’ve lost their mind." Another person quietly peered over the collapsed wall, watching the scattered zombies, "They’ll probably wander here for a lifetime."

"Never mind them." Zhang Feng acted decisively, gazing at the group laden with bags, "Let’s head upstairs, we’ll stay here for a while."

...

Afternoon.

Zhang Feng and the others consolidated resources into the top eighth floor.

Afterwards, they cleared the floors, establishing the eighth floor as their current home.

Over the next two days.

Zhang Feng, accompanied by two nimble individuals, made two trips to the mall, bringing back all the supplies.

Finally, a simple fortification was constructed at the entrance of the stairwell.

A simple small base was completed.

"Cheers!"

That night, by moonlight, the group celebrated the establishment of their small base with drinks in place of alcohol on the rooftop.

...

In the following days.

Zhang Feng didn’t venture anywhere.

He practiced martial arts day in and day out, occasionally teaching others some simple killer moves.

After teaching, he let them spar and ponder.