Chapter Thirty-Two: Blood Moon in the Sky (Part Two)

As everyone busied themselves, night quickly fell.

Darkness descended.

In the sky, the strange, sinister scarlet glow grew even more intense. Though there were no clouds and no sign of rain, bolts of lightning flashed incessantly above, accompanied by deafening thunderclaps. Anyone familiar with the game Seven Days to Die would have instantly recognized these as the ominous signs heralding the coming of the Blood Moon.

The walls of Baishui River Camp formed a perfect square. There were nine people in the camp, divided evenly into pairs to defend each side of the wall. Of course, these defensive arrangements weren’t rigid—a small camp meant any side under heavy assault would swiftly receive reinforcements from the others. After all, if the walls were ever breached, none would survive the ensuing tide of corpses.

Soon it was ten o'clock at night. A shrill, spider-like screech split the air.

With the end of that screech, the sound of countless zombies running echoed from all directions around the camp.

They had arrived.

Accompanied by low, guttural roars, the footfalls of the undead grew louder and nearer. In an instant, dozens of zombies surged toward the perimeter of Baishui River Camp. However, since this Blood Moon was only of modest difficulty, most of the attacking zombies were of the ordinary variety.

Qin Fei saw no mutants—not even the bloated zombies they'd encountered the previous day appeared.

As the undead reached the outer barricades, their legs were instantly impaled by the caltrops set there. Most collapsed to the ground, and those who didn’t fall outright found themselves crippled and limping, unable to run, their movements sluggish.

Qin Fei raised his iron crossbow. Through the double-scope, he began picking off the zombies that had fallen victim to the barricades. Mindless as they were, the zombies failed to avoid even the obvious obstacles right before them. But their numbers alone posed a dire threat—and they were relentless.

As time passed, Qin Fei had already dispatched more than twenty zombies. Bodies piled up beneath the walls, and the wooden caltrops were soon exhausted, worn down by the endless tide.

With no barricades left to hinder them, the next wave of zombies crashed directly against the walls, furiously clawing at the cement.

At such close range, Qin Fei set aside his crossbow and grabbed a wooden spear, stabbing downward at the undead. There were plenty of spears lined up along each wall, ready to be swapped out the moment one broke.

Even though the walls were made of concrete, under constant assault several spots had already begun to crumble. With the barricades gone, more than ten zombies quickly gathered at the base of the wall. Seeing this, the nearby female doctor rushed over, clutching a bottle of gasoline.

"Stand together, quickly!" she ordered.

The three of them immediately grouped up. Zombies were drawn by instinct to the nearest living thing, so as Qin Fei and his companions huddled together, the zombies below converged at the same spot.

The doctor lit the Molotov cocktail and hurled it.

With a roar, the bottle exploded in flames. Packed tightly together, the zombies clawing at the wall were instantly engulfed. Acrid smoke and the stench of burning flesh soon drifted upward—but the odor was even fouler, tinged with the rot and decay of the undead.

Nearly a dozen zombies were incinerated in that single blast. The relentless rhythm of the attack began to slow.

Qin Fei and the others felt immense relief.

After all, this was only the first Blood Moon of the seven cycles—its difficulty the lowest. Thanks to their combined efforts, dawn arrived before the camp could be overrun.

The moment the sun rose, the zombies below the walls froze, as if suddenly overcome by dementia. From frenzied sprinting, they slowed to a sluggish walk.

With the undead stripped of their speed, they were no longer a threat. The survivors left the safety of the walls and set about dispatching the remaining stragglers.

Some of these zombies had an oddly endearing trait: they liked to carry their favorite belongings from life in their pockets or bags—snacks, coins, and sometimes even firearms and ammunition.

Thus, after each successful defense against the horde, the survivors could always count on some spoils. These were collected and distributed by the female doctor.

Qin Fei received supplies worth about two hundred casino tokens.

When the area was finally cleared, Qin Fei inspected the camp’s perimeter. The walls bore deep scars from the assault; in some places, even the fresh cement applied that very day had been clawed away during the Blood Moon.

With the protective cement gone, the brickwork beneath was dangerously fragile. Had the horde been any larger, or had they attacked the same spot again, the wall might well have been breached.

Zombies might lack brains, but they could certainly change direction. If a gap appeared in the wall, they would know to swarm through.

The very thought made Qin Fei shudder.

And tonight was only the first Blood Moon out of fifty days—the easiest by far. If defending against this level of assault was already so strenuous, who knew how they would fare against the next waves?

But upgrading the camp’s defenses was not something Qin Fei could do alone.

For now, he focused on improving his own gear.

He already had his iron crossbow, but he needed a good melee weapon, a decent firearm, and several throwable items like Molotov cocktails for dealing area damage.

The melee weapon was for close combat if zombies got too near; the gun, for breaking free if surrounded.

Most survivors couldn’t carry so much equipment—not because of the weight, but because the chaos of battle left no time to swap weapons.

But Qin Fei was different—he had his system backpack. Any weapon could be instantly stored and retrieved at will, just like a game character changing loadouts in a flash.

For him, the more comprehensive his arsenal, the better—provided he didn’t exceed his carrying capacity.

Aside from weapons, Qin Fei planned to make himself a suit of iron armor. It didn’t need to be especially thick or heavy, just enough to protect him in case he was struck. Heavy armor would only hinder his speed and agility in melee.

As for what to make first, the answer was obvious: survival was paramount.

He would start with the armor.