Chapter Sixty-Seven: A Stern Reminder

“We’ve come together for a few reasons. They are...”
Fan Li introduced everyone to each other. Hu Huayao gave a slight nod of greeting, but Yang Shuo’s gaze lingered on Liu Hao with a scrutinizing look, reminiscent of a seasoned gang lieutenant sizing up a newcomer.

Unlike the tangled thoughts of Hu Huayao, when Yang Shuo realized Fan Li’s strength was even more formidable than he’d imagined, he felt no tension—instead, the anxiety that had gripped his heart since the end of days eased a little.

What matters most when you’re a follower? Strength? Knowledge? Flattery? No, none of those are truly important. Since ancient times, what matters most in this world is loyalty!

If you’re going to follow a boss, the stronger he is, the better. Ruthless? Cunning? Those are assets, aren’t they? Whenever a leader is chosen, only the tough ones are picked—only then can the men below hope to get a taste of the spoils when the boss feasts.

Yang Shuo’s thoughts differed from Hu Huayao’s. He wasn’t pondering anything deep; he was simply thrilled by Fan Li’s extraordinary power to summon monsters.

It was like this:
At a gang gathering, if the boss suddenly whipped out a rocket launcher, who among the underlings would care where it came from, its price, or what it was made of? Those who thought too much would only wonder how to leverage this weapon to make the gang more powerful and what benefits they themselves might gain.

Yang Shuo’s thinking was simple. He was keenly aware of his own abilities, and as the first witness to Fan Li’s power, he considered himself a true confidant. Hu Huayao and Liu Hao were just latecomers—he alone was the real right-hand man.

Otherwise, why would Fan Li leave him the key when he left? So lost in this self-hypnosis, Yang Shuo completely forgot that Fan Li entrusted him with the key only to water the plants and hang the bedding out to dry.

“Ahem...”

Yang Shuo cleared his throat, straightening his back. Whether intentionally or not, he extended his tattooed arm, displaying the Bodhisattva etched on his skin.

For Hu Huayao, the gym had always been a melting pot, a place where all sorts of people gathered. With his own considerable strength and skills in combat, he had regarded Yang Shuo as an equal from the beginning. But Liu Hao was different—a model student from childhood, his life a procession of exams until he began working just two years ago, still a fledgling in the ways of the world. When he felt Yang Shuo’s probing gaze, he froze, then forced a stiff smile. “Hello, everyone. I’m Liu Hao, an orthopedic surgeon at Zhongshan Hospital.”

As he finished, Liu Hao’s left leg twitched involuntarily. He didn’t mention it, but Fan Li had personally tested his ability—it was as genuine as they come.

Of course, Liu Hao remained bewildered by it all. The very first time he met Fan Li, he’d felt as if a beam of light had pierced his darkness, illuminating his path. But he could never have imagined that this light would be so fierce, nearly blinding him.

On their way back to the camp from the bungalow, Fan Li’s composure and decisive manner in killing zombies had already convinced Liu Hao of his strength. But when they reached the building, Fan Li told him, “Stay close, don’t move more than half a meter away.” Then, coughing up blood onto an inverted cross in his hand, he summoned a giant wielding a massive blade right before Liu Hao’s eyes.

Instinct told Liu Hao to run, but the overwhelming aura of bloodlust and death emanating from the giant made his already injured left leg tremble uncontrollably. Had he not clung to Fan Li’s sleeve, he might have collapsed on the spot.

After witnessing the Butcher’s mad assault on the monster, Liu Hao’s spirit was left depleted, and he wandered in a haze.

Listening to Liu Hao introduce himself as a doctor, Hu Huayao’s eyes grew complicated. He seemed to want to speak, but hesitated. After several seconds, he finally turned to Liu Hao.
“You’re a doctor. Would you treat an old injury in my arm? Of course, I’ll pay you for your trouble.”

Fan Li was determined to create an environment where effort was rewarded accordingly. Hu Huayao, respecting this principle, offered compensation for Liu Hao’s services.

As soon as he spoke, he felt several gazes turn toward him.

The others’ stares didn’t matter, but Fan Li’s was like a pair of sharp blades, piercing Hu Huayao’s soul.

Hu Huayao’s expression grew awkward. “During a zombie attack, I twisted my left arm. I know a bit of massage and managed to set it myself, but it still feels numb and sore. So I’d like a doctor to take a proper look.”

“He deliberately hid this from us!” Fan Li was momentarily stunned, then relaxed.

Hu Huayao was a man of the world, a true survivor. He knew what was in his interest and what was not. A tiger at its peak is feared; a toothless tiger is only fit to be ridiculed and bullied. When he’d just joined Fan Li, he’d hidden his injury, afraid of being rejected or losing his edge. But after spending time with Fan Li, he must have realized how laughable his posturing was. Even at his best, he couldn’t have escaped Aili’s devouring or the Butcher’s execution.

“I don’t want this to happen again,” Fan Li said. He allowed each of them their own secrets—human nature was unpredictable—but deliberately hiding an ailment could prove fatal in a critical fight.

Suddenly, a terrifying, inhuman shriek, impossible to describe in human language, echoed in Hu Huayao’s ears. He felt as if he were drowning, coming face to face with death itself. Despite his usual control, his body trembled and convulsed.

Intimidation.

Fan Li’s fury at the concealed injury triggered his passive intimidation, striking Hu Huayao like a blow to the skull.

The pain on Hu Huayao’s face did not go unnoticed by Yang Shuo and Liu Hao. Though Fan Li’s focus was on Hu Huayao, the sheer force of the intimidation reached them as well. Both were left shaken, feeling Fan Li’s presence rise even higher in their minds.

Liu Hao, lost in a daze, parted his lips in bewilderment.

As for Yang Shuo, he quickly pulled back his tattooed arm from the table, straightened his back, and dared not make another move.

“This is only a minor lesson,” Fan Li said, exhaling and lifting the shadow from his heart. The passive intimidation vanished in an instant.

In the silence that followed, sweat beaded on Hu Huayao’s brow and bloodshot lines traced across his eyes. Weakly, he said, “There won’t be a next time. I swear on my life.”

Fan Li nodded gently, letting the matter rest.

No one dared make another sound. Fan Li exhaled inwardly—his reprimand had been measured. Hu Huayao was simply the first to be made an example of, but Fan Li had no interest in flaunting his power for its own sake. Such hollow intimidation was useless in the fight for survival.

After a brief pause, Fan Li spoke again. “The harshness of our circumstances is plain to see. Waiting here for death is not an option. I want to ask: what are your thoughts for the future?”