I am the Zombie King of the Apocalyptic World
Chapter 1578 - 1572: All Traps 1

Chapter 1578: Chapter 1572: All Traps 1

Gotta admit, the big man was quite the battle-hardened veteran. The young man’s move—it was obvious from the initial motion. Without any pressure, he took a step back, and the attack missed once again. But the young man didn’t stop, retracting that hand, while his other fist came swinging toward the opponent’s chest.

"Kid, this is your best shot?"

The big man saw this and gave a disdainful smile. He outright ignored the young man’s strike, immediately clenching his fist to smash it toward the young man’s forehead. If this blow landed, the kid could at least expect severe injuries!

After all, the difference in build between the two was obvious. In terms of toughness, the big man was leagues ahead.

But in that instant he started his move, his peripheral vision caught a flash of cold light as the young man’s arm swung past! His heart tightened—something wasn’t right!

He quickly aborted his action, raising his arm to block instead!

"Die!"

The young man couldn’t help but let out an excited roar, and in his hand—when did he even grasp it—a venomous fang knife gleamed!

*Shrrrip*

The next moment, the sound of flesh being sliced by a blade echoed in everyone’s ears. On the big man’s arm, a long gash over ten centimeters appeared instantly. The muscle tissue inside was clearly visible, the cut clean and smooth!

His expression twisted as the pain shot up from his arm!

"Holy shit! He’s pulling a knife!"

Watching this unfold, the surrounding soldiers couldn’t help but gasp in shock, their eyes falling on the young man. Their gazes carried mixed emotions.

Even Ghost Head shrank back slightly, realizing he had called it right—the young man was definitely a ruthless lunatic!

"You bastard, you fight dirty!"

The big man was enraged, but that slash nearly reached his arm bone, and the pain made his face grow even more grotesque!

With blood streaming down his arm, he grew agitated. The agony surged again, compelling him to gasp sharply!

But the young man just grinned wickedly, showing no intention of stopping. With the knife in hand, he lunged straight toward the big man’s throat. If the strike landed, the big man would be as good as gone!

The crowd only stared, stunned by the young man’s reckless violence. None of them made a move to intervene; they, too, seemed intent on seeing what would happen next.

The big man just started to react, but before he could do anything, someone stepped between them at the decisive moment. Suddenly, a crisp "crunch" sound rang out—they all heard it—and it was followed by the young man’s scream of agony. When everyone finally looked over, the young man’s forearm protruded outward at a ninety-degree angle!

"Arrrgh!!"

The sudden turn of events took everyone by surprise. The pain in his arm was searing, and sweat beads the size of beans dripped down the young man’s forehead.

"I’ll kill you for this!"

He didn’t have time to think about what had just happened. He only wanted to make whoever broke his arm pay dearly!

Ignoring the agony, he swung his other hand toward the figure shielding the big man. But before he could even connect, he felt his neck seize tight; the air that had just entered his throat instantly got stuck in his chest.

It was then the young man finally sensed something amiss. The blood aura emanating from the figure in front of him was several times heavier than his own. This was a Level 3 New Human—someone far stronger!

At that moment, his body stiffened, and all the rage he had felt earlier seemed to drain away completely.

"So you love flaunting your boldness, huh?"

In front of him stood a youth under thirty, his old uniform clearly distinct from the newer ones worn by recruits, marking him as a veteran of the Cold Army.

"Uh..."

As he spoke, the grip on the young man’s neck tightened slightly. The suffocating sensation made him let out a pained moan. Fortunately, before joining the army, someone had warned him not to act rashly. Forcing himself to calm down, he struggled to say, "No."

"Then you must have a death wish!"

The youth wasn’t about to show mercy. His eyes brimmed with killing intent, and the young man grew flustered. He understood clearly that this person wouldn’t hesitate to kill him. But—he didn’t want to die!

"Uh..."

The grip on his neck grew tighter, slowly suffocating him further, and the sense of choking intensified. He groaned and flailed his limbs in an attempt to escape, but it only caused the youth’s body to sway slightly—breaking free would still take a long time. With his Level 2 New Human stamina, how could he possibly outlast a Level 3 New Human?

Just as he felt on the verge of suffocating to death, the youth abruptly loosened his grip. He let out a cold snort and said, "If it weren’t for the current manpower shortage, someone like you would’ve been dead ages ago. Two years ago—damn, I’d have killed a whole patch of you!"

He tossed the young man aside like a dead dog, said his piece, and turned to walk into the transport truck’s central control room. Before stepping inside, he glanced back at the young man once, shaking his head.

Ten years ago, he had been much like this punk—arrogant, brash, fearless. But after joining the Cold Army, years of life-and-death encounters had taught him restraint. The people he once knew now dwelled eternally in his memories.

With his back turned to the young man, the latter looked up to glare at him, eyes brimming with venomous hatred. Yet when the youth suddenly turned back to glance at him, the young man quickly ducked his head, not daring to meet his gaze.

The incident soon blew over. Ghost Head, off to the side, casually picked a spot to sit down. He wanted to look out the small window to see the scenery outside, but the position he’d chosen wasn’t ideal—someone with their back to the window blocked his view completely. Not wanting trouble, he refrained from asking them to move. At this point, a single word could spark unnecessary conflict. Ghost Head was the kind of person who avoided disputes unless backed by superior strength.

Time went by quickly. Ghost Head, still sitting in the transport vehicle, had no idea where the convoy had driven them. After about half an hour, he checked his phone. Soon the transport truck halted, and noise filled the cabin as soldiers wondered: had they arrived?

A minute later, a familiar voice rang out from outside—it was the officer.

"Get the hell off the truck!"

His tone was no less hostile than before. Following the officer’s command, the transport vehicle opened up, and Ghost Head joined the crowd disembarking from the truck. Stepping out, he saw the officer’s back turned toward them.

Further ahead stood another convoy, though not troop transports—it appeared to be a fleet of eleven or so cargo trucks carrying unknown goods. Ahead of the fleet were three individuals: two dressed casually, and the third decked out in a suit. Beside them, in the passenger seat of the lead truck, Ghost Head could barely make out another figure wearing a military uniform. He didn’t recognize the person’s identity but sensed an overpowering blood aura from them, far exceeding that of the Level 4 New Human officer among them.

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