Chapter 41: Night of the Living Dead

"Garbage!" A harsh grunt echoed as a half-smoked cigarette was stamped out on the ground.

A towering, burly man abruptly stood up from his seat, his eyes filled with contempt as he glared at Mowen and Red Raven. In his eyes, Mowen was nothing but a piece of trash, and Red Raven was merely a wannabe martial artist with laughable skills.

He stretched his neck and wrists gently, then with a swift elbow strike, he knocked the greedy flesh-eating creature in front of him to the ground. The creature's skull cracked, and it lay still.

"This is strength! This is the most powerful street fighter!" The burly man disdainfully blocked the approaching stall owner. Twisting his fingers, he made a cracking sound, preparing for a warm-up, then delivered a flashy strike.

"I'm the king of this street, you hear me? Ain't nobody ever beaten me!" He yelled out, full of confidence.

Normally, these stall owners would smile obsequiously at him; now, even in their monstrous forms, they would still bow down to him.

Even now, unsure if the stall owner can see a thing, it's clear he recognized the man's scent right off the bat. This guy never coughed up a penny for his grub and terrorized most of the vendors around here. He even knocked the teeth out of a lady vendor once, just for asking him to pay.

As the stall owner strolled along, something set off a sudden spread of dark blossoms across his face, the petals quivering on the brink of eruption.

A low, indistinct roar erupted, "Why do you garbage keep bothering me!"

The brawny man struck out with a punch, shattering the air, but his wrist was instantly caught by the stall owner's large palm. A quick swing of the cleaver, and the strong man's arm was cut off.

He stood there, stunned, then screamed loudly, holding his arm and stumbling backwards, leaving a bloody trail.

The stall owner grabbed the severed arm, tore off a chunk of flesh, and chewed while advancing toward Mowen and Red Raven.

Most of the usual customers had already run to a safe distance, but a handful lingered, observing the scene from afar.

Red Raven's fists whirled, sending the undead flailing like bowling pins. Mowen's eyes widened as he witnessed this. He knew it wasn't the time to stand there like a log, but the excitement far outweighed his usual boring work life.

Mowen watched in awe as Red Raven's fists whirled, sending the undead flailing like bowling pins. His own hands itched to join the fight, but he knew better than to interfere with the monk's precise movements.

Still, he couldn't help but voice his excitement. "Incredible technique, big brother!" His admiration was palpable as he scanned the chaos around them, longing for the skill and precision he witnessed.

"Attack their joints, don't let them move," Mowen urged from behind, his voice urgent with the need to contribute.

"Got it," Red Raven replied, his focus unwavering despite the chaos. With a newfound understanding of their opponents' capabilities, he adjusted his strategy, targeting the undead's knee joints with calculated precision, gradually robbing them of their mobility.

The moment the undead's joints were dislocated, a bone-chilling crack resounded, and the once lively undead collapsed, struggling.

At some point, the astonishing scene of the battle attracted a couple. They were strikingly attractive, with fair skin and blood-red lips, their eyes glowing with an excited red hue in the flickering lights. The couple clearly weren't human; they resembled mythical demons.

Especially the barely dressed beauty, whose appeal was undeniable, "Hey, handsome, could you lend me a hand?" The young men on the wall heard her voice and felt like they were struck by Cupid's arrow.

In an instant, 7-8 hands stretched out from the wall, eagerly pulling the beauty up, offering her a prime view. The beauty with red dress nestled close to the young livestreamer, her pale arms wrapping around his shoulders like snakes, greedily savoring the scent of his youthful vitality.

The young man, his face marked with acne, eagerly seized the moment. He turned his phone to keep live streaming, ready to brag online about his thrilling experience. Unaware of the woman's intense focus on the large veins pulsing in his neck.

Monk Red Raven, with years of cultivation experience, could tell these two were not ordinary humans. He let out an angry shout upon seeing the situation: "You bold demon, let go of that young man! If you dare, do it to me!"

The woman shot Red Raven, the scruffy bald monk, a disdainful glance before teasingly sticking out her fragrant tongue to lick the young man's earlobe. Caught up in the moment, the young man retorted to the brave monk offering to shoulder his burden, "Get lost! She is mine!"

Mowen's unease grew as he watched the interaction unfold. Despite the chaos around them, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was the target of the woman in the red dress. The woman's lingering gaze felt like being hunted by a poisonous snake, "Better keep my distance," he thought, instinctively taking a step back, his senses on high alert.

As the stall owner approached, moving slowly and stiffly, his gaze was sharp, filled with murderous intent. Mowen caught sight of his terrifying expression, and his heart skipped a beat. Instinctively, he took a few more steps back.

However, not far away from Mowen, the young livestreamer was watching his audience count skyrocket. The numbers were rapidly climbing, and he excitedly continued his commentary: "Oh my God, now an even more terrifying Level 2 zombie has appeared!

It is said that his whole body fat doubles his physical defense, and he is adept at using various lethal weapons! The Shaolin hero is in grave danger! How many moves will it take for him to defeat this Level 2 zombie? Let's make a guess. Think the hero will win? Press 1; if you disagree, press 2."

The stall owner zombie suddenly lunged at Mowen instead of charging at the burly man, catching everyone off guard. At the same time, four or five other zombies charged at Red Raven. If there was no one directing them, it was hard to believe this attack was happening randomly.

The excited livestreamer's voice echoed in Mowen's ears: "Alright, the Level 2 zombie is known for its physical defense, but this guy also possesses absolute strength.

This seemingly brave young man is already scared out of his wits, with no apparent ability to fight back.

His situation is extremely dangerous! Let's see what happens next. The bloodbath is about to begin, oh my, I can't even bear to watch!"

Mowen turned his head in frustration, glaring at the guy desperate to boost his online traffic. Earlier, he had only noticed the beautiful woman in the red dress, but now he couldn't forget the acne-covered face of the livestreamer.

Next time he ran into him, he would definitely make sure he tasted a plastic chair first!

However, the stall owner zombie stopped a short distance away, his voice low and trembling, as if struggling to speak but still indistinct: "You... poor... soul, just... go, I... don't want... to hurt you."

Mowen could sense that the consciousness of the once kind and friendly vendor still lingered within this body.

"Boss, I don't know what's happened, but please think of your children, you should leave here."

Mowen clearly felt a trace of sadness on the zombie's face, "I've turned into this, seen by so many people, do you think they would still let me go home? You're the same, in their eyes, just a humble worker, quickly... leave here, I... don't want..."

As the black spots on the vendor's face shattered, countless tiny black mists dispersed.

Mowen stood frozen on the spot, his mind a tangle of countless thoughts.

A sudden roar jolted him back to reality. He frantically picked up one chair after another, overturned table after table, even though they were all just lightweight plastic. He still hoped to use them to block that terrifying presence.

However, the faint sorrow in his heart could not be dispelled no matter what.

However, the crazed zombie did not stop; instead, it became even more furious, wildly swinging its cleaver and emitting deep growls, chopping and slashing everything in its path.

Mowen pushed a stall over in front of him.

"Clang!"

Sparks flew as the stall owner slashed deeply into a thick iron frame.

At some point, Mowen's hand had been cut and was bleeding. He could only retreat, running in circles around the plastic tables, even circling behind other zombies.

His movement irritated the stall owner, who took the opportunity to eliminate zombies. He cut down any targets in his path, whether human or zombie, splitting them in half with one swing.