Zhou Chenghai’s fist connected with the zombie’s skull and bone cracked under the impact.

The head snapped back hard, the neck bending at an angle that should have dropped it instantly.

The zombie stumbled backward two steps, its arms still reaching forward, its legs still pushing it toward him like he was the ultimate treat and it just needed a taste.

He hit it again, this time aiming for the temple, and the second strike landed clean with enough force to crush the side of its face inward. The zombie went down faster this time, but its hands were still clawing at the ground, still trying to pull itself forward even as its skull leaked dark fluid onto the dirt.

What he was doing was not enough.

He shifted left on instinct as another zombie lunged from the side, noticing that he didn’t need to think before he moved.

His punch caught the thing square in the chest and its ribs shattered under his knuckles.

The body flew backward into the railing post with a heavy thud that should have ended it.

But these fuckers were a lot harder to kill than the ones from the other day.

The zombie hit the wood hard enough to crack the post, then slid down before it immediately started pushing itself back up.

Its chest was caved in, its breathing wet and broken, but it was still moving.

Still coming forward.

Still determined.

Chenghai stepped into the next one without hesitation. This time he aimed for the throat, his fist driving straight through the soft tissue and crushing the windpipe completely.

The zombie’s head jerked back and its body went rigid for half a second before it collapsed.

He watched it hit the ground and stay there, no movement, no crawling.

That strike stopped it, and he filed it away before he moved to the next target without pausing to think about why it worked.

A zombie came at him from the right and he caught it by the shoulder, his grip tight enough to feel bone shift under his fingers.

He pulled it forward and drove his other fist into its face with enough force to snap its head back so hard the neck broke audibly.

The body dropped instantly, no resistance, no forward momentum.

The difference was immediate and clear. He adjusted again, his strikes becoming heavier, more direct, targeting the spine and neck instead of just the head.

The next zombie took a hit to the base of its skull and went down without twitching. The one after that had its neck crushed completely and collapsed in a heap at his feet.

Ever so slowly, he was starting to understand his body better, what worked, what didn’t, and what was complete instinct.

He had originally thought that because they weren’t flashy like fire, fighting powers weren’t all that useful. But he was proving himself wrong with every punch he threw.

The pressure around him was constant now.

Zombies kept coming from the driveway and the sides, their numbers almost overwhelming as the soldiers continued firing from the porch.

Chenghai moved through them with controlled efficiency, his fists landing in rapid succession.

A zombie lunged and he caught it mid-stride, his hand closing around its throat before he twisted hard and felt the vertebrae separate.

Another came from behind and he turned into it, his elbow driving into its temple with enough force to cave the skull inward. The body hit the ground and didn’t move again.

He was still breathing easy, like he was just strolling through the park and his rhythm stayed steady. It honestly felt like he could fight for hours and never once tire.

No longer bothering to stop the smile on his face, Chenghai actually started to enjoy himself.

Each strike was deliberate, each target chosen for maximum effect.

He stopped aiming for heads unless he could crush them completely. He stopped pulling his punches to conserve energy.

The zombies didn’t stop unless he made them stop, and that required more force than he’d been using. He accepted it without hesitation and adjusted his approach immediately.

A cluster of three zombies pushed toward him from the gate and he moved into them instead of waiting.

The first one took a punch to the chest that collapsed its ribcage and sent it sprawling backward into the other two. He followed through, stepping over the fallen body to reach the second zombie before it could recover.

His fist connected with its jaw and the bone shattered, the head twisting so far to the side that the neck snapped audibly.

The third zombie tried to lunge but he caught it by the arm and pulled it forward, using its momentum to drive it face-first into the ground. He brought his boot down on the back of its skull and felt it give under the pressure. All three stayed down.

It was like a dance, and he had never been this graceful.

Zhenlan moved past him on the left, clearing space with controlled bursts of air that redirected zombies before they could close in. Lingyun’s fire lit up the driveway to the right, flames spreading across bodies and forcing the horde to retreat from the heat. Yuche’s focus remained steady somewhere behind him, targets dropping cleanly as invisible impacts punched through skulls.

Chenghai didn’t look back to confirm their positions. He trusted they were handling their sections and focused on his own.

Another zombie came at him and he met it with a strike to the throat that crushed everything beneath his knuckles. He shifted right and caught the next one with a punch that drove straight through its jaw and into the base of its skull. Bone cracked and the zombie collapsed without resistance.

His hands were covered in blood now, dark and sticky, but his grip stayed firm.

His knuckles should have ached from the repeated impacts but there was no pain... just joy.

He kept moving, kept striking, kept dropping targets with increasing efficiency.

The horde was thinning now. The relentless pressure that had been building since the fight started was finally breaking as the combined effort held and the bodies piled too high for the remaining zombies to climb efficiently.

Chenghai dropped another zombie with a strike to the spine that severed it completely. The body folded and hit the ground in two separate motions.

He turned toward the next target and found empty space. The driveway was clear except for the bodies already down.

The porch steps were holding and the soldiers’ gunfire had tapered off into isolated shots.

He straightened slowly, his breathing heavy but controlled, his hands lowering to his sides as he scanned for remaining threats. He flexed his fingers once, testing for damage, and found everything worked perfectly.

Now, he couldn’t wait for the next zombie to approach him.