Four zombies stood on the staircase leading from the third floor to the second. If they wanted to continue their descent, a confrontation was unavoidable.
The system panel informed the pair that these were ordinary zombies, the lowest-tier enemies in the script.
They could be compared to the ordinary zombies encountered in Dave's Backyard. The two were of the same tier, though even ordinary-level monsters varied in strength. If a zombie from the Journey of Death script was thrown into an octagon cage match with an ordinary zombie from Dave's backyard, Bai Mu felt that Dave's zombie would definitely win.
The skin on these zombies did not look nearly as resilient. While the backyard zombies had tight, dry skin, the flesh of these undead resembled a grotesque mixture of waterlogged pork and playdough. It was sagging and putrid; he got the feeling that a single grab would tear the skin and flesh right off their faces.
Fighting them certainly would not be difficult. After a month of decay, their muscle structures had long since rotted away.
After all, they were just low-level mobs in a D-grade script. As long as a normal adult could overcome their inner fear, taking down these zombies would not be too difficult.
The real issue was the noise. They had to remain as quiet as possible to avoid triggering a zombie horde.
Facing these four unavoidable zombies, Misty Rain Traveler raised her hand. Her gesture signaled for Bai Mu to hold his position and watch her work.
Bai Mu nodded and stood obediently at the top of the stairs. He was incredibly curious to see how a D-grade player fought.
Misty Rain Traveler retrieved a scalpel from her jacket. Instead of engaging the zombies in close quarters, she stood her ground and hurled the blade.
As she threw it, Bai Mu caught a glimpse of a bloody crimson light flashing across the blade—likely the activation of a skill. The scalpel buried itself precisely into the zombie's temple. Then, originating from the point of impact, multiple deep lacerations rapidly spread outward, as if invisible wires were slicing through the creature's flesh.
The cuts radiated from the entry wound to spiderweb across the zombie's entire face. The gashes were shallow, but undeniably lethal; since the lacerations emanated from the tip of the embedded blade, the creature's skull was already riddled with fractures.
'She's practically superhuman,' Bai Mu thought to himself.
Misty Rain Traveler dispatched the remaining three zombies using the exact same method. Every time she threw a scalpel, she would seamlessly draw another from her bag.
It was a terrifyingly effortless chain of instant kills. Given her slender frame, it was biologically impossible for her to generate that kind of physical force. However, the equipment and skills she had acquired from Paradise granted her enhancements that pushed her far beyond human limits. The sheer stopping power of those scalpels was greater than a bullet's, verging on the supernatural.
It was completely silent, and the attack even triggered secondary damage upon impact. This combat skill was infinitely superior to Bai Mu's Plant Care. Watching her, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy.
He couldn't help but wonder how effortlessly he would have survived back in his hometown if he had possessed such superpowers.
Why bother rationing bullets? He could have just hoarded a truckload of fruit knives and called it a day.
Unfortunately, there were no "ifs" in reality. He could only focus on the present.
After clearing the obstacles, Misty Rain Traveler continued to lead the way. Watching her bend down to retrieve the scalpels one by one, Bai Mu recalled what she had told him earlier.
"As long as there are no more than five zombies at a time, I can handle them." Why exactly five, and not six?
The answer was glaringly obvious. Misty Rain Traveler likely only carried five scalpels on her person. Facing five zombies simultaneously, she could eliminate them with one blade each. But if there were more than five, she would run out of weapons for the sixth and be forced into hand-to-hand combat.
However, since the thrown scalpels could be repeatedly recovered and reused, she could effortlessly dispatch scattered small clusters of two or three zombies without taking a scratch.
Looking at it that way, if he ever needed to securely eliminate Misty Rain Traveler, his best strategy would be to bait out her scalpels first. She clearly had to aim before throwing, and each blade struck a slightly different spot, meaning her skill didn't have an auto-aim function. A well-timed feint could easily draw her fire and waste her weapons.
Her accuracy, however, was impeccable; every throw within fifteen meters resulted in a clean headshot. Furthermore, that flimsy-looking nurse outfit definitely possessed better defensive stats than the durable tactical gear provided by Great Northern Wilderness. It might even provide a strength buff, or perhaps it shared some synergy with the scalpels.
The safest approach would still be to strike preemptively with his handgun.
She had already revealed her trump cards, whereas the revolver sitting in Bai Mu's pocket and the shotgun tucked into his backpack remained completely hidden.
He also couldn't rule out the possibility that she had other hidden aces. Bai Mu firmly believed that any player capable of surviving six scripts had to be incredibly resourceful.
But at the very beginning of the script, she had treaded with extreme caution. Was it because her physical defense was inherently low?
Bai Mu mentally classified Misty Rain Traveler's build: she was a high-damage, low-health DPS class. She was devastatingly powerful while armed with her scalpels, but once she expended all five blades, her combat capabilities would likely plummet.
In his mind's eye, Bai Mu treated Misty Rain Traveler as a hypothetical enemy. He continuously simulated combat scenarios against her, calculating the most efficient way to kill her if it came down to it.
Of course, he only entertained these thoughts out of pure force of habit.
Having survived ten years of a post-apocalyptic wasteland, he had witnessed the absolute worst of human nature. The bitter memories of naively trusting others only to be brutally betrayed remained vividly seared into his mind.
Because of that, he never paid attention to empty words. He judged people solely by their actions and where their underlying interests aligned, using those factors to determine whether someone was a friend or a foe.
However, these calculations remained strictly theoretical. If they failed to clear the script, they would all die. Their goals, their enemies, and their interests perfectly aligned, making them natural allies. Deep down, he genuinely considered the other three players to be his comrades.
After walking down the stairs for half a minute and rounding a corner, the pair finally reached the second floor.
The zombie population on the second floor was noticeably denser than on the third.
A dozen or so creatures were lingering in the hallway alone, standing absolutely motionless in the shadows.
Seeing this, Misty Rain Traveler's expression turned grim. She pursed her lips and tightened her grip on her scalpel, keeping herself in a perpetually "loaded and ready" stance.
Even so, she maintained their original formation, with herself taking point and Bai Mu covering the rear.
Perhaps she wanted to establish her authority as the team leader, or maybe she simply felt that Bai Mu walking in front would obstruct her line of sight. Regardless, she systematically cleared out the zombies along their path through a methodical, albeit slow, routine of throwing and retrieving her blades.
Bai Mu benefited entirely from her protection and didn't have to lift a single finger.
As they passed by a storefront, Bai Mu's nose twitched.
It was the unmistakable scent of gasoline.
The scent was incredibly faint, nearly completely masked by the overwhelming stench of rotting corpses, but Bai Mu was acutely sensitive to it. In fact, compared to the pure, sharp smell of unadulterated gasoline, this sickening blend of fuel and rotting flesh felt like home to him—it was the very scent of his everyday life.
Pinching her nose, Misty Rain Traveler kept walking. The stench of decay was clearly making her sick to her stomach, and she only paused when Bai Mu firmly grasped her shoulder and pointed into the storefront.
He held up three fingers—their predetermined hand signal for discovering gasoline.
Misty Rain Traveler looked up to see the neon sign for a Children's Park. The plastic billboard prominently featured colorful illustrations of a Swimming Pool, a trampoline, slides, and an indoor rock climbing wall.
The moment the two of them stopped walking, the faint, haunting sound of sobbing drifted out from the Children's Park.
The surrounding zombies remained completely indifferent, almost as if the weeping were nothing but an illusion.