Clark moved like a phantom, appearing behind the two individuals attempting to flee, and their bodies were impaled. Clark couldn't help but chuckle. He hadn't expected these people to be so foolish. He had already planned it out when he called them downstairs. Building a safe zone required a large number of people.
The Rescuers team had enough members now; what they needed next were some regular folks. Arnold's group of survivors had performed quite well in this situation and could be recruited.
Among the survivors in the hotel, there were also a few from third parties who could stay. Although these people didn't have much strength, and few were even in their prime, Clark didn't mind. After establishing the safe zone, players within it would automatically absorb energy to enhance their physical attributes. So physical strength didn't matter, as ordinary players would never be as strong as awakened individuals. Character and morality were what mattered most.
Therefore, he planned to clean out the riffraff from the team first and let them pass over when the safe zone was established.
The hotel was still safe for now, but he was about to leave here for a while. If he kept this group of people here, it could easily lead to a repeat of the past few days, or even worse. Clark had a deep understanding of human nature from his previous life.
In just a few seconds, the second-floor hall was filled with corpses, resembling a bloody slaughterhouse.
The surviving crowd looked at Clark with fearful eyes, their faces pale and some even felt nauseous. The scene before them was too shocking; they had thought Clark would at most punish them a bit. But he was resolute and ruthless, which frightened them. Only a few women who had been raped, despite their fear, looked at Clark with a hint of gratitude.
"Clark," Arnold's expression was complex. Over the past few days, his views had changed somewhat, but he couldn't act as decisively as Clark.
Clark smiled gently, dusted off the remnants on his hands, and patted Arnold's shoulder.
"In turbulent times, sometimes you have to use harsh measures."
The wind howled fiercely, tousling Clark's slightly overgrown hair. He had changed into a fresh black combat suit, and his right hand wore a glove with intricate blood patterns. The black dragon, now transformed into a stone sculpture, appeared almost like an ornament, exuding an air of mystery.
Clark stood on the rooftop, carefully observing the movements of the horde of corpses below. Not far away, the metal sign of the WD Shopping Center reflected the harsh sunlight.
The square was on fire, abandoned and wrecked vehicles clogged the entire street, and the horde of corpses roamed about, occasionally raising their heads to howl. The once bustling city center had turned into a playground for the undead.
"Only 76 hours left."
Clark glanced at the mission countdown on the Rescuer's panel; time was running out. After deducting the time needed to return to the HY residential area and accounting for potential contingencies, at least 24 hours needed to be subtracted.
After being in a coma for five days, he had regained his physical and mental strength to its peak. Therefore, after briefing Arnold to take Lynn to awaken her talent at a less dangerous energy node, he rushed here overnight.
"The situation doesn't seem to be very good," Clark murmured to himself as he looked at the densely packed horde of corpses below.
The WD Shopping Center where [The Stitcher] was located was in the heart of the city, and it was surrounded by a sea of undead as far as the eye could see.
With such a massive number of zombies, there were undoubtedly many mutants mixed among them. Facing mutants individually and facing them within a horde of corpses were two completely different levels of difficulty. Entering the shopping center from the ground was no longer realistic.
"Eye of Judgment!" A pale blue mist rose, and his mental power quickly spread outward. Clark scanned his surroundings rapidly, trying to identify the mutants hidden within the horde of corpses. Strangely, he didn't see a single one of the most recognizable "The Licker."
"Ding, detected zombie count in the vicinity: 332,817."
"Number of mutants in the vicinity: 6."
"Unknown entities in the vicinity: 3."
"Number of players in the vicinity: 791."
A flood of data poured in like a waterfall. After carefully reviewing it, Clark's heart couldn't help but tighten. Due to the strength of his mental power, he could only observe within a range of about one kilometer. However, since awakening, the Eye of Judgment's outwardly projected mental power allowed him to detect unseen areas. In less than three square kilometers, there were over three hundred thousand zombies. This density was comparable to the peak of the Spring Festival travel rush.
And there were 791 survivors? Clark curiously looked down at the square, wondering where the players detected through his mental power could be hiding.
Six mutants, three unknown entities. It was a bit tricky, and he wasn't sure if he could avoid them. After noting down the locations representing the mutants and unknown entities, Clark turned and headed for the entrance to the rooftop, planning to carefully consider the route for his upcoming journey.
[The Stitcher] was located inside the WD Shopping Center, and Clark had to conserve enough energy before entering it, trying to avoid battles with other mutants as much as possible.
In the HY residential area, the midday sun scorched the concrete ground.
"Boss, can we find a place to rest? We can't hold on much longer," a man wearing a gray vest said with exhaustion, covering his eyes. His throat felt parched, and he felt like fire could come out of his throat at any moment.
There were seven people in the group, six of them wearing gray vests, and their clothes were stained with blood and torn in places. The vests had the embroidered letters: "LJ City Second Prison." The remaining person was wearing a black work uniform from a delivery service, looking timid and sandwiched in the middle, as if being coerced.
Upon hearing this, the group stopped in their tracks, all looking at the leader. The man addressed as "Boss" was named Bernard, and he had a weary expression, with a long scar running beside his narrow eyes.
"Fine, we've run this far already. That monster probably won't catch up to us," he said, feeling exhausted himself. Several people who had been hiding outside the perimeter wall of the residential area sat down, staggering and tired.
Recalling the fear of being chased by The Licker all the way here, they couldn't help but shiver, even in the scorching sun.
"Let's take a break; we can't stay here for too long either. I see some zombies inside. We'll find a place later and rest inside," Bernard said. He took out a crumpled cigarette from his pocket, and one of his companions immediately lit it for him. Smoke curled up, and the others watched enviously but dared not ask for a smoke.
Bernard finished speaking and half-closed his eyes, leisurely taking a drag from the cigarette. He tapped the scorching concrete ground with his left hand, and a faint electric arc flickered at his fingertips. Snap. The electric arc shot out and burst on the ground, leaving a small hole in a nail-sized spot.
The thin man nearest to him glanced at the electric arc on Bernard's fingertips and said hesitantly, "Boss, I think there might be someone in that building over there."
The emaciated man pointed to a three-story residential building not far away, where several pieces of cardboard were pieced together, with "Help" written on them in red marker.
Bernard squinted his eyes and carefully looked at it, then nodded casually. "Let's go to that place then. There should be someone, and maybe some food. I think there are women's clothes hanging outside too." His words immediately lifted the spirits of the previously dejected group, who gathered around him.
"Boss, should we stick to the usual plan?" The man who spoke had half of his head bald, and he bowed and grinned as he couldn't help but rub his hands together when he asked Bernard.