I am the Zombie King of the Apocalyptic World
Chapter 1581 - 1575: It’s All Traps 4

Chapter 1581: Chapter 1575: It’s All Traps 4

Beside him sat another young man, slightly older than the naïve youth from before.

When Ghost Head first noticed this person, he froze for a moment—not for any particular reason, but because the man was seriously engrossed in something on his phone.

Wasn’t there no internet here?

Ghost Head couldn’t be certain. Nowadays, GPG networks only existed in survivor bases. If you weren’t inside a survivor base or a Sanctuary City, a phone was no better than a brick—albeit one with a few extra functions compared to a plain brick.

After the post-apocalyptic outbreak, he had spent the early to mid stages scavenging for supplies with others. Whenever he encountered zombies, his first reaction was to run, ensuring they never noticed him. Four years after the outbreak, he was fortunate enough to land a position at a Revival Factory. He worked there until the day he joined the Cold Mercenary Corp.

Since the mid to late stages of the apocalypse, he had rarely left the Dangerous Sanctuary City. His routine resembled life before the Apocalypse: go to work and come home on schedule. But even so, he knew there was absolutely no such thing as an internet connection outside a Human Sanctuary City these days.

Suspiciously, he pulled out his own phone and pressed the power button. The screen displayed the time—1:46 PM—but in the top-right corner, aside from the battery level, there wasn’t a trace of signal.

"This..."

Ghost Head suddenly felt a question forming in his mind. What was that guy looking at so intently? Why was he so focused?

Curious, Ghost Head leaned slightly to the side for a better look. It seemed the man was reading an email. Even stranger, his phone actually had a signal!

This realization struck Ghost Head like lightning. This person wasn’t ordinary. Phones with signals in the outside world were typically military-grade. How could a normal civilian possibly own such a thing? Sure, you could technically buy one if you had enough Yajin, but the cost was so astronomical that an average person would have to toil endlessly while forgoing food and drink to afford one. In the apocalypse, the Yajin most people earned barely covered the basic necessities for two people: food, clothing, and shelter. And of course, those necessities were far below the standards of life before the Apocalypse.

The apocalypse lacked everything—most of all, food. As a result, the majority of people’s expenses went toward sustenance. Luxuries, like diamonds, had become so worthless that even dogs wouldn’t bother sniffing them if left on the street. Only hard currency, like gold, retained its value.

Most people in the apocalypse survived on just two meals a day. They didn’t eat to be full, just enough to not starve. As for anything beyond basic survival—say, indulging in vanity—only three types of people would do so: the fearless, the wealthy, or the hopelessly foolish.

As for this guy, he most likely belonged in the second category.

Ghost Head tilted his head further, squinting to make out what was on the man’s phone. He finally managed to glimpse a line of text: [Xiao Ping, I just got the message—the dam over at the City Center has already been built.]

[This place seems to be called something like the Graveyard. It hasn’t been announced yet. I don’t know the direction the zombie horde is advancing. All I can tell you is, you must stick with the main group. Some of you will inevitably be forced into the suicide squad. No one will tell you what you’re supposed to do, and you won’t know. I don’t know how things will go on your side, but make sure you stick with the majority!]

[If you’re unlucky enough to get chosen, find a chance to escape! Otherwise, you won’t survive!]

When he saw the message, Ghost Head’s heart skipped a beat. The phone’s owner seemed lost in thought, as if distracted by something. But he quickly snapped into focus, suddenly turning his head to lock eyes with Ghost Head.

The man immediately turned off his phone. The two of them froze, locked in a silent standoff. Ghost Head’s entire body tensed. He could clearly see the murderous intent in the man’s eyes!

After about half a minute, the man glanced around to confirm no one else was paying attention. He then took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and asked in a low voice, "Did you see it?"

"See what?"

"Don’t... don’t play dumb. There’s no way you didn’t see it..."

"I..."

"Fine. I was careless. Listen, you can’t tell anyone about this. We—we’ll work together."

The man spoke softly, while Ghost Head exhaled deeply, his mind racing. The words on that phone triggered a deeply unsettling suspicion in his mind.

More or fewer people—wasn’t it obvious? There were fewer people in their truck!

Certain death!

The words "certain death," which appeared black on the screen, flashed blood-red in his mind!

What were the higher-ups planning? Was Bai Liang leading them to their deaths?

No, it couldn’t be that simple! Perhaps even Bai Liang didn’t know. Maybe even that Level 5 New Human who’d spoken with Bai Liang earlier was being kept in the dark!

The Graveyard—it wasn’t just a graveyard for countless zombies. It was theirs as well!

The Cold Army was critically short-handed. Even the veteran soldier’s earlier revelations hinted at this. So this "certain death" couldn’t possibly come from their comrades’ guns. There was only one explanation: the zombie horde. The deafening zombie horde!

The Dangerous Sanctuary City was humanity’s last stronghold in this wasteland. If the zombies broke through, the city would be like fish on a chopping board, waiting to be slaughtered!

Once they reached the "Graveyard" and encountered the zombie tide surging like waves, there’d be no escaping, no avoiding it. Their only options would be waiting to die or picking up weapons, gambling on sheer luck, and fighting through a bloodbath!

Before their inevitable deaths, their one contribution would be killing as many zombies as possible!

This was a trap. The entire Cold Army was caught in this trap! The Cold Mercenary Corp had never been a bargaining chip. They were nothing more than a deck of cards with J, Q, and K missing, casually discarded by that bastard Yang Xiangfeng. And whether these cards could smash a few zombies to death depended entirely on Yang Xiangfeng’s damn luck!

They were sacrificial lambs—when they would die was the only question.

Ghost Head’s heart pounded violently. The primal fear of death threatened to consume him.

"Answer me!"

The man’s urgent prompting snapped Ghost Head back to his senses. He stared blankly at the man.

"Co—cooperate..."

"What’s your name?"

"Just call me Ghost Head."

"A nickname?"

"Halfway counts as a name..."

"Alright then, just call me Brother Shi. That’s what everyone else does."

"Oh... Alright... Huh?"

Ghost Head was still in a daze, his thoughts stuck on when his life might meet its end. But as he processed what Brother Shi had asked, he looked at the younger man, who had just asked him to call him "Brother Shi." The man looked at least a decade younger than Ghost Head. How could he have the audacity?

"What are you huh-ing for? Keep your voice down!"

"Got it, got it..."

"If you don’t want to tell me your real name, it’s fine to use a nickname, right? What’s with the attitude? Honestly, it’s a miracle you’ve survived this long."

"But..."

"But what?"

"Who sent you that message?"