Dark Ruins Dawn

Chapter 22 Rat Man
He found a touchpad that was almost imperceptible and pressed it down with his fingertip.

"hiss--"

With a slight depressurization sound, a wall panel slid open silently, revealing a liquid nitrogen container embedded in the wall.

He opened the box, and a white, cold mist billowed out.

A clump of silvery substance, resembling liquid metal, lay quietly on the black cushion, emitting a faint glow.

The analysis of the old man's memories quickly made him realize the importance of the items in front of him:
Nano Memory Skin

This is not the disposable nano-skin available on the market; it is a cutting-edge product still existing in nuclear laboratories.

It can scan and replicate any person's physical features, including skin texture, hair, and even the iris, and also provides a degree of physical defense.

This is a true "second body," and its value is immeasurable.

Zhuang Fan studied it for a while, and then used the "Wasteland Traveler" feature to access the identity database in the system.

Those were the countless shells that Xu Renyi had prepared for himself.

He ignored the meticulously designed elite faces and chose the most ordinary, inconspicuous face, the kind of face that would be easily lost in a crowd.

But at that moment, a muffled explosion pierced through the thick rock layer, and the wall plaster fell off with the tremors.

"Boom--!"

The survivors all stopped eating, stood frozen in place, and looked at each other with suspicion and uncertainty.

It seemed like a long time had passed before water droplets seeped from the rusted pipe joints, hitting the flat ground with a monotonous "drip-drip" sound.

That was the only sound.

Suddenly, a high-frequency shriek came from afar, tearing through the solidified air.

"boom--!"

The sealed tunnel entrance, along with tens of tons of surrounding rock, was blasted open by an explosive force.

The rubble shot out like shrapnel, carrying choking dust that engulfed the entire hall.

Immediately afterwards, ten drones roared in, swept across the hall, and used red light to scan and create a real-time 3D map.

Twenty mechanical dogs followed behind, their bodies low to the ground, their sharp claws scraping against the ground with a harsh "click" sound.

"Immediately move aside and crouch down. Weapons are prohibited. Violators will be killed on sight!"

The cold, electronic sound echoed in the empty hall.

The survivors huddled in a corner, severely frightened.

As the smoke and dust billowed from the entrance, silhouettes of fully armed individuals slowly emerged.

They wore helmet visors with dark blue tactical goggles, their armor lines were clean and sharp, and their shoulder armor was uniformly branded with an emblem: a dragon wrapped in lightning.

The Swift Dragon Mercenary Group.

Their movements were perfectly synchronized, their tactical formations maintained precise spacing as they moved, and they communicated using simple hand gestures.

The man in the lead had a thick beard and wore a modified combat suit with a post-apocalyptic punk style.

He had a hideous scar on his face, running from his brow bone to the corner of his mouth. His nickname in the wasteland was:
Scarface.

He glanced across the hall, ignoring the trembling survivors, and simply smiled.

"Go and clean the room."

Once the instructions were given, the team was extremely efficient.

Soldiers worked in groups of three, using thermal imagers and acoustic detectors to thoroughly inspect every corner and crack.

The mechanized soldiers wear brain-controlled devices and simultaneously operate several drones to remotely destroy machine gun turrets.

The robotic dogs were responsible for searching for hidden mines and traps, and even climbed into various ventilation ducts.

The search was like a precise surgical operation—efficient, ruthless, and devoid of any emotion.

The control room was also captured immediately, and the system was forcibly reset, erasing all the permissions that Zhuang Fan had previously left behind.

More survivors were roughly driven to the center of the hall, like a herd of livestock to be slaughtered.

"Boom...boom..."

The hunters' boots echoed on the ground, each strike feeling like a blow to the heart, as they drew ever closer to the armory.

Zhuang Fan had already changed his clothes, but he still needed to wait until the system was fully activated.

After a few more moments, the system voice finally came as he had hoped. His heart skipped a beat, and the search noises he heard were not far off.

Zhuang Fan reached his hand into the molten metal.

The touch was icy cold, wriggling like a living thing, spreading upwards along his arm like a thin layer of mercury until it covered his entire body.

He could feel his facial features melting, the texture of his skin changing, and there was no feeling of suffocation, only an illusion of being reshaped.

Soon, a completely different-looking stranger stood up from the shadows.

He hid the liquid nitrogen tank back in the hidden compartment and put the "Wasteland Traveler" suitcase inside as well.

The wall panel closes silently and locks in place.

He walked out of the armory, put on a terrified expression, and waited for the soldiers to come up and inspect him.

"come here!"

After the soldier scanned Zhuang Fan's wrist and found no matching data, he told Zhuang Fan to get out of the hall.

Driven by the gun barrels, he naturally merged into the crowd.

In the center of the hall, Scarface held up a holographic photograph with Zhuang Fan's face, which was named "Zhang Dafan".

His voice was low and even a little boring.

Have you all seen him?

A dead silence.

The survivors avoided eye contact and did not answer.

Scarface casually pointed at the man at the front and fired a shot.

"boom!"

The gunshot was crisp and clean. A cloud of blood exploded from the back of the man's head, and his body fell straight backward like a wooden stake.

"I'll ask you one more time, have you seen him?"

Fear spread like a plague, and more than a dozen hands rushed to be raised.

"I've seen it! I've seen it!"

"He's right here! He just taught us how to make cockroach paste!"

"The road behind him is blocked; he definitely can't escape!"

Those few people whom Zhuang Fan had specifically taken care of before shouted the loudest, their faces showing an excitement that was eager to prove their worth.

To make their story more believable, they embellished Zhuang Fan's physical features and daily details.

Zhuang Fan stood in the crowd, looking at them expressionlessly.

Scarface clearly didn't believe these clumsy lies, and two soldiers brought in a sophisticated biological scanner.

“Come here one by one.”

Those informants were the most eager, all wanting to be the first to clear their names and clear their names of suspicion.

The beam of light began scanning, revealing every subtle difference, from height and weight to skeletal structure, facial contours, and gait characteristics.

"Beep—Mismatch."

"boom!"

Scarface casually shot him dead.

The crowd erupted into chaos, with cries, pleas, and hysterical screams all mixed together.

But the inspection must continue.

When one of the men was identified as a "mismatch," he quickly clarified, "I'm Zhang Dafan, I'm not acting anymore!"

"Bang!" Another one fell down.

Driven by fear and the threat of death, the line gradually shortened, and Zhuang Fan, disguised as an ordinary passerby, drew ever closer.

It's as if the music is perfectly timed, very rhythmic:

The scanner beeped first, then said "Mismatch," followed by a gunshot, and finally a dull thud as a heavy object fell to the ground.

Ten, five, three...

Zhuang Fan's heartbeat gradually quickened.

Dozens of escape methods flashed through his mind, but he wasn't entirely confident in any of them, and the price of death was extremely high. He might really be doomed this time.

Just as the scanning beam was about to hit him, the scout urgently shouted into the communicator:

"Level 3 Alert! Massive zombie horde! Coming from all directions! Red Corpse Birds will arrive in two minutes!"

The bored expression on Scarface vanished, and his voice became as cold and hard as metal.

"Put everyone else on the boat and retreat!"

The soldiers drove the remaining fifteen survivors to the exit and then threw them into the airship like cargo.

Zhuang Fan was pushed and shoved into a corner of the cargo hold.

The interior space was cramped, the floor was slightly hot, and there was a smell of sweat.

Through the porthole, he saw an endless gray ocean outside, a churning horde of corpses.

The sky was a deep crimson, shrouded in an overwhelming swarm of red corpse birds.

Gunfire erupted outside the boat, and countless red corpse birds swooped down from the sky with shrill cries, only to be torn to shreds by the dense barrage of fire.

"start up!"

The metal floor trembled slightly with the roar of the engines, and then five airships took off, escaping the swarm of corpse birds.

The airship flew high enough to reach the stratosphere, minimizing the corrosive effects of the fog on its hull.

The threat of execution has temporarily disappeared.

Instead, there was a more claustrophobic steel cage suspended above a sea of ​​corpses.

The airship was heading towards an abandoned underground city that had been overrun by a zombie horde three months prior.

Zhuang Fan overheard that the group was going to the research institute to retrieve a high-precision military machine tool, but he couldn't hear any other details.

The physical examinations of the survivors will continue.

First, everyone underwent biometric scanning, including Zhuang Fan, and no abnormalities were found.

Next, a technician used a memory extractor to scan the brains of the survivors one by one.

When it was Zhuang Fan's turn, he closed his eyes, deliberately cut off his own real memory stream, and at the same time constructed a memory fragment belonging to an ordinary refugee, which he then fed to the scanner.

That memory was simple and dull, a struggle that left me numb, yet undeniably real.

"Report to the captain, no target found."

Scarface remained calm, yet he crushed the head of one of the survivors.

“That bastard Harry, all his intelligence is fake!” His voice was low.

The second-in-command quickly chimed in, "Captain, Fengmang and we are enemies. They must have deliberately led the zombie horde towards us. Their methods are truly vicious."

Another deputy frowned: "That bastard Harry, his whole family got to where they are because the boss pulled strings behind the scenes. Now he's turning his back on us?"

"Sharpness. Ha, this is not over yet."

Scarface pointed at the survivors in the cargo hold, his eyes filled with murderous intent.

"Throw them all down."

The stern hatch of the airship opened, letting in a biting wind and the shrieks of corpse birds.

Armored soldiers grabbed the survivors one by one and threw them out without mercy; their screams instantly disappeared into the churning, eerie fog.

Next up was Zhuang Fan.

The black mist in his hand was already prepared, ready to be injected into the armored soldier's helmet at any moment.

"Boss, I have a suggestion."

"explain."

The second-in-command avoided Scarface's gaze. "These prisoners are going to die sooner or later anyway. Why not let them scout ahead and check for danger?"

Scarface pondered for a moment, then waved his hand impatiently.

The hatch closed, and Zhuang Fan and the remaining five survivors were transformed from useless trash into usable tools once again.

The experience of almost dying was truly unpleasant, and Zhuang Fan was already tired of this life as a prisoner.

Shortly afterward, the airship landed in the center of a dilapidated stadium, the hatch opened, and the soldiers rushed out.

"Shhhhh-"

Their guns were fitted with silencers, and after quickly clearing out the surrounding zombies, they made a safety gesture.

Zhuang Fan and his group were pushed off the boat, their wrists shackled with steel claws and linked together with steel ropes.

A furious shout came from behind: "Anyone who dares to slack off will be shot! Hurry up, all of you!"

They were expendable scouts, driven to the front of the column, followed by hundreds of soldiers.

As Zhuang Fan walked, he manipulated the barely visible eerie mist, silently corroding the joints of the steel claws, waiting for an opportunity to escape.

The entrance to the underground city was shrouded in a thick, eerie fog, damp and dark.

The reconnaissance soldiers used fog lights to keep the area within a radius of several meters clean.

"In this godforsaken place, I hope the machine tools don't get corroded into empty shells," Scarface frowned.

The deputy comforted him, "Boss, that research institute is different. According to intelligence, it's inlaid with a lot of brilliance stones, which have strong corrosion resistance."

As the old man's memories were analyzed, Zhuang Fan gradually understood the specific functions of the pyroxene.

The crystal itself can dispel eerie fog within half a meter, and this effect is long-lasting.

However, if powered on, its fog-dispelling range can be expanded by at least three meters, at the cost of drastically shortening the meteorite's lifespan.

Therefore, fog lights are truly consumables and the only option for the poor.

The wealthy prefer to have their homes inlaid with quartz crystals.

After walking for a while, Scarface stopped and sniffed the air: "Smells like a dead rat... Watch out, there might be rat people."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a series of sharp, whistling sounds came from the air.

"Whoosh whoosh—"

The three survivors at the front were instantly riddled with arrows, their bodies riddled with crude short arrows.

In the darkness, two strange wooden chariots were pushed out.

The vehicle is made of bamboo trusses and has a hardwood gear with a diameter of more than half a meter, which holds ten small crossbows.

Several rat-men were frantically spinning the joystick; it was quite a sight.

The wooden gears creaked and groaned, causing the crossbow to rotate. The arrows in the magazine were automatically loaded and strung by the pulley chain, and then fired.

"Da da da--"

The sound didn't resemble gunshots; it was more like many wooden sticks striking a broken drum in rapid succession.

Arrows rained down, covering the entire passageway.

As Zhuang Fan dodged, he cursed inwardly.

Gatling ballista!
A bizarre creation born out of despair and scarcity of materials, a pure wooden structure, was actually made by these rats.

Four armored soldiers stood at the forefront, their thick armor sparking from the arrows, yet remaining completely unharmed.

"Little tricks."

Scarface's team responded simply and directly: armored soldiers shouldered cannons and unleashed a burst of fire.

"boom!"

A high-explosive shell blasted one of the ballistae, along with the ratman next to it, into a shower of wood chips and blood.

The other machine gun was torn to pieces by the machine gun fire, accompanied by the ratmen's shrill screams.

More than a dozen rat-man sentries were also shot through the chest, with no time to dodge.

The last one, with all its might, blew the horn made of animal bones.

"Woo——"

The mournful sound of horns echoed deep within the underground city.

"Boss, the Skaven leader Tataji isn't here. He's still fighting the Greenskins elsewhere. This Skaven stronghold should be quite small."

Scarface nodded: "Then let's finish this quickly."

The deputy counted the prisoners and couldn't help but frown.

"Why did one of them escape?"

(End of this chapter)