There were two sets of "zombie suits" in total—Huang Jin's unique invention, stitched together from multiple zombie hides. Each set consisted of pants, a top, a head covering, foot wraps, and gloves.
Since zombies carried a strong, pungent odor, suits made from their skin effectively masked human scent. They could even trick zombies into mistaking the wearer for one of their own. As long as you kept a reasonable distance and didn't reek of blood, you were usually safe.
These suits were the secret behind Huang Jin's high scavenging success rate.
Additionally, if a suit dried out over time and lost its potency, Huang Jin would "maintain" it—essentially rubbing fresh zombie fluids onto the surface to keep it active.
Huang Jin swiftly suited up. Zhang Lei, though visibly uncomfortable, forced himself to wear the grotesque outfit despite his nausea.
Midway through, Huang Jin noticed the wounds on Zhang Lei's face.
"Cover those up," he warned. "Don't let the hide touch open wounds—risk of infection."
"But… what about my head?"
"Use that."
Huang Jin pointed to a large roll of duct tape in the corner. Zhang Lei quickly wrapped his head in layers of tape before pulling on the hood.
And so, two faux zombies clad in rotting hides set off toward their destination.
"Walk carefully. Don't tear my suits," Huang Jin snapped repeatedly, protective of his prized gear.
Zhang Lei could only force a pained smile, treading cautiously behind him.
They encountered numerous zombies along the way. But as long as they kept their distance and avoided loud noises, the undead paid them no mind.
For Huang Jin, this was routine. For Zhang Lei, it was a first.
Walking freely through a zombie-infested area like this…
It was something he'd never imagined possible.
After half an hour, they finally reached the supermarket's entrance.
Parked outside was a dilapidated pedal tricycle, just as Zhang Lei had described—loaded with food. Bread, compressed biscuits, and more.
But near the tricycle, Huang Jin spotted footprints, a lone tattered shoe, and a pool of blood. The ground around it was a chaotic mess of bloody prints.
If he had to guess, the shoe's owner had been the tricycle's rider. The poor soul had likely been trying to escape with the supplies when zombies blocked their path. Forced to abandon the bike, they'd been swarmed and devoured. The blood and footprints were the aftermath—zombies fighting over scraps.
One man's loss is another's gain.
The supplies on the tricycle were now Huang Jin's for the taking.
The problem? A dozen zombies loitered nearby.
They needed to lure them away first.
Huang Jin picked up a metal rod from the ground and handed it to Zhang Lei.
Zhang Lei gripped it nervously, eyeing the undead.
"D-do we fight them?"
"Fight? Are you insane? Go make noise somewhere else and draw them away."
"Oh! Right."
Zhang Lei hurried about ten meters off and started banging the rod against the ground. The zombies turned—but upon seeing just another "zombie" acting erratically, they ignored him.
"Find a spot where they can't see you, dumbass!" Huang Jin hissed.
Zhang Lei scrambled into a nearby alley and resumed the noise. This time, the zombies shambled toward the sound, their movements jerky like they were on some twisted dance drug.
Most followed, but two lingered near the tricycle—smarter than the rest, perhaps realizing the noise was just their "fellow zombie" acting up.
Huang Jin had no choice but to approach.
He buried his axe in the skull of the nearest one—right in front of the female zombie beside it.
She tilted her head, confused. Why was this "zombie" attacking its own kind? What was the benefit?
While she pondered, Huang Jin yanked his axe free and swung again.
THUNK.
Her head split open before she could react.
Smarter, but still too slow.
Then again, she was just a zombie.
Huang Jin turned to the tricycle and inventoried the supplies. Bread, compressed biscuits, bags of rice—enough to last him two months. A solid haul.
One upside of the apocalypse was the sheer drop in human numbers. These supplies had sat here for days, untouched. In peacetime, they'd have been snatched immediately.
The tricycle was parked outside an abandoned supermarket—clearly, the food had come from inside. Huang Jin ventured in, hoping for more.
But the interior was worse than he'd expected.
Some food remained on the shelves, but most were gnawed-empty husks or rotted beyond recognition. Rats and other scavengers had picked the place clean.
After half an hour of searching, all Huang Jin found were a few bottles of decent liquor.
He didn't drink, but the shelter's thugs would trade well for it.
Not a total waste.
He carried the bottles out and loaded them onto the tricycle.
The supermarket was empty. This bike held its last supplies.
Some unlucky fool had spent hours gathering it all, only to lose everything at the exit.
Now, Huang Jin reaped the rewards.
"What an idiot," he muttered, mocking the previous owner's misfortune.
Then he remembered his own ransacked stockpile.
His smirk faded.
He glanced around.
Where the hell is Zhang Lei?
Had the guy died?
Frowning, Huang Jin headed toward the alley where Zhang Lei had disappeared.