How to Raise a Baby in an Apocalypse - Chapter 383
Liang Ziyu rushes back and takes a quick look at Zhao Ru. In the thick smoke, he bravely charges at the sensory zombies, extinguishes the fire on the plants, picks up Zhao Qianrong from the ground, and runs back.
The rain douses the heavy smoke, disrupts the zombies’ sense of smell and sight, and creates a temporary buffer. Luo Feifan carries the unconscious Zhao Ru as he sprints back. Behind him, another large fire flares up.
Zhan Lian hurls a flying knife, while Zhang Boxun casts out a metal wire mesh, controlling his supernatural powers with practiced ease. Green vines wrap themselves around the mesh, weaving through its gaps.
A temporary wall blocks the exit from Tiesi Village.
Only a handful of people remain. Doll is in Zhan Lian’s arms, and his other hand still grips An Ran tightly.
The copper-skinned sensory zombies halt in front of the wire mesh, their bodies scorched by flames and shredded by spinning knives. The few remaining ordinary sensory zombies that manage to leap through the smoke and fire crash into the wire net, only to be consumed by the green vines twisted around it.
But An Ran’s plants aren’t truly effective at killing zombies. When faced with fire, their biggest contribution seems to be fueling the flames.
“Go! We can’t hold on much longer!” Luo Feifan, holding Zhao Ru, turns and shouts.
The group fights and retreats, weaving around wrecked cars and erecting makeshift defenses as they go. Eventually, the number of copper-skinned sensory zombies that can follow them thins out. But on the crowded national highway, with so many survivors causing noise and confusion, no matter how united An Ran and the others are, they won’t last long.
Near the front of the convoy, Tang Jianjun sits inside a professional combat vehicle, studying the map intently. Around him, soldiers and medics move quickly. The trucks closest to his vehicle are packed with the elderly, the weak, the sick, the disabled, and pregnant women.
A soldier rushes forward to report, detailing the situation at the rear near Tiesi Village’s entrance. Tang Jianjun stays still, eyes locked on the map. The pen in his hand slowly bends under his tightening grip.
His face is marked with deep lines—fatigue, hardship, and age.
He speaks to the soldier in a low, firm voice: “Right now, what choice do we have? Start transferring the elderly, the weak, the sick, the disabled, and pregnant women. Xiangcheng is calm for now—retreat there first.”
“Chief… what about the other survivors?” the soldier asks hesitantly. By “others,” he means those who have their own vehicles, supplies, and the means to flee on their own.
Tang Jianjun’s expression hardens. “As soldiers, we have to give up when it’s time. Prioritize those who can’t escape on their own. The rest… can only rely on fate.”
The soldier looks at him, and for a moment, says, “Your daughter, Miss Tang… she’s still back there.”
Tang Jianjun’s expression falters. Grief washes over his weathered face.
His voice trembles. Reluctance burns in his eyes. “When faced with the bigger picture… we must give up. Tang Siluo is a lucky girl.”
The soldier is stunned. He nods, salutes with a sharp and respectful gesture, and turns to relay the order.
Let go when it’s time to let go.
The nation may have fallen, the army disbanded, but the duty of a soldier remains. In the face of humanity’s disaster, the weak must be protected first. The strong will survive. If a soldier’s purpose isn’t shown in times like this—then when?
