The Apocalypse Solution Provider

Chapter 41: Soul-Bound Equipment and New Intel

Su Jin woke up to a splitting hangover, his head throbbing like a war drum.

He glanced at the window; the sun was already high in the sky. It was noon.

Taking in his surroundings, he realized he had passed out and someone had dragged him into the spare bedroom.

Fu Qingdai sat on a small stool beside the bed, resting her chin on her hands as she quietly studied him.

The moment he stirred, she immediately snapped to attention.

Su Jin propped himself up on one elbow, shooting her a sideways glance. “Why aren’t you training? What are you doing here?”

Her face instantly fell. “I just finished… I came to check on you. Brother, did something major happen? Did you poison those two people yesterday with chocolate?”

Su Jin took a slow breath and nodded. “Yes, we hit a snag. But I have it under control. Not a word of this to your parents.”

“I didn’t. If you tell me to keep my mouth shut, I wouldn’t dare say a thing,” Fu Qingdai hesitated. “But what exactly happened? Can’t you tell me?”

“You’re too young. I don’t trust you to keep a secret, so drop it.”

He rubbed his face, feeling a sliver of his energy return. “But remember this: we aren’t going to sit in this building waiting to die. Sooner or later, we have to move. When we do, never trust a stranger. If someone in our group gets injured, stay on high alert.”

“If anyone makes you feel uncomfortable or gives off a weird vibe… just kill them.”

With that cheerful advice delivered, Su Jin reached for the nightstand, picked up the Silver Gun, and offered it to her.

“I’m issuing this to you for self-defense. Don’t lose it.”

“Then what will you use?” Fu Qingdai didn’t reach for it, staring at him instead.

“I’ve got superpowers now, and I’m practically immune to the infection. A sidearm is redundant,” Su Jin said with practiced patience. “Besides, I have a spare. We’ll procure more firearms later.”

He tossed the Silver Gun into her lap, pushed the window open, and pointed at the sky. “Fire a warning shot. Get a feel for the recoil.”

Fu Qingdai gripped the pistol in both hands, aimed out the window, and squeezed the trigger.

“Nngh!”

“Shoot. What are you waiting for?”

“I’m trying! The trigger won’t budge!”

“Squeeze harder!”

“I am! Is the safety on or is it rusted shut?” Her face flushed a deep crimson, the knuckle of her trigger finger turning completely white from the strain.

Su Jin frowned, snatched the weapon back, and casually pointed it out the window.

Bang!

The gunshot cracked through the air without a hitch.

Staring thoughtfully at the smoking barrel, Su Jin scanned the room.

He spotted his briefcase sitting right next to the bed.

He practically lived out of this bag, and everyone knew it was strictly off-limits. Sun Ya must have placed it there when they hauled his drunk ass to bed.

Su Jin popped the latches, held the open case out to Fu Qingdai, and commanded, “Reach in. Tell me what you feel.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, though she obediently slid her hand inside.

She rummaged around for a few seconds before pulling her empty hand out, looking at him with utter confusion.

“It’s totally empty.”

“Ah…”

Su Jin let out a long, exhausted sigh.

It seemed the “office supplies” provided by his corporate overlords were strictly biometric-locked. Non-employees couldn’t use them.

Keeping the dimensional briefcase to himself was fine, but a weapon that couldn’t be handed off to a teammate was a massive logistical headache.

Sure, it generated its own ammunition, but the recharge cooldown was a massive bottleneck. If they just had a steady supply of bullets, a regular Glock would be infinitely more practical.

This completely ruined his plans for resource allocation. What kind of garbage company locked down standard-issue hardware like this?

He reached in, pulled out a chocolate bar, and shoved it into her hands. “You can’t use tech from my home planet. I’ll source a proper weapon for you later. For now, stick to the archery training.”

“Keep this chocolate on you. If anyone ever threatens you, find a way to make them eat it. But whatever you do, don’t snack on it yourself. And watch over your parents.”

Fu Qingdai examined the wrapper, slipped it into her pocket, and nodded seriously. “Understood, boss.”

“Alright, you’re dismissed. Go fetch me some water.”

She gave a crisp nod and stood up from the stool.

The second she turned around, her legs gave out, and she face-planted straight into the floorboards.

She tried to push herself up, only for her knees to buckle entirely.

Slowly craning her neck, she shot Su Jin a deeply mortified look. With a pathetic groan, she dragged herself up using the wardrobe, her face burning red.

“Alright, go rest your legs. Forget the water,” Su Jin snorted, highly amused.

“No! I’ll get it!”

She stubbornly refused to surrender. Trembling like a newborn deer, she practically crawled along the wall, inching her way out of the bedroom.

…

A short while later, Su Jin hauled himself out of bed and stood by the living room window.

The sash was thrown wide, letting the harsh midday sun bake his newly reinforced, muscular physique.

As he basked in the light, the residual exhaustion and the pounding hangover rapidly evaporated from his system.

He clenched his fists, feeling the raw power thrumming under his skin. It was hard to stay in a bad mood when you felt indestructible.

“Xiao Li,” Sun Ya’s voice echoed from the hallway.

Su Jin turned to face him.

Sun Ya offered a faint smile. “You haven’t forgotten our little chat from yesterday, have you?”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“Good. Come downstairs. Old Wei and I have some fresh data we need to brief you on.”

…

Down in the crude fifth-floor laboratory, the three men gathered around the workbench.

Su Jin stared at the cage in mild surprise. Inside, Test Subject No. 3—the mutated rat—was literally split down the middle, aggressively gnawing at the iron mesh. “What happened to it?”

“We prodded it with some metal skewers. It realized its cover was blown, completely dropped the disguise, and has been trying to murder us ever since,” Wei De replied with a grimace.

“Let’s focus on the data.” Sun Ya clapped his hands to draw their attention.

“Old Wei and I pulled an all-nighter running behavioral tests. We’ve compiled some very interesting results.”

“Factoring in your field reports from yesterday, these stealth variants operate on an entirely different logic than we initially hypothesized.”

Su Jin leaned back, crossing his arms and listening intently.

Sun Ya continued: “Broadly speaking, the infection produces two distinct branches. First, the standard Zombies. Second, the Disguised Infected. But here is the kicker—they aren’t on the same team. The disguised variants don’t carry the infectious vector, and the standard Zombies treat them as hostile targets.”

“Oh?” Su Jin’s eyes lit up at the tactical advantage.

“Don’t celebrate just yet,” Sun Ya cautioned, pressing his hands flat against the table. “Zombies attack them because Zombies are programmed to attack anything with a pulse. However, the Disguised Infected have zero interest in fighting Zombies. They only retaliate if cornered. Their true objective… is us. While they perfectly mimic their pre-infection biological habits, they harbor an overwhelming, predatory drive to slaughter uninfected organisms.”

Su Jin sighed, his brief spark of optimism dying out. “Does the mutation boost cognitive function? Because No. 3 played us beautifully.”

“It’s a strong possibility,” Sun Ya nodded.

“I disagree,” Wei De interjected. “Rats are inherently clever. It recognized us as a superior threat and laid low to survive—that’s standard self-preservation. But the moment we looked away, it completely failed to suppress its bloodlust and devoured the other mice. That impulsivity implies its actual intelligence hasn’t increased at all.”

“The intelligence of a Disguised Infected seems strictly capped by the original Host’s baseline intellect.”

“Furthermore, based on our limited sample size, the mutation manifests in three distinct ways. Type One: the Host suffers extreme psychological corruption and becomes a homicidal maniac, but remains biologically human.”

“Type Two: the Host gains miraculous biological enhancements, much like yourself, while retaining a perfectly normal exterior.”

“Type Three… is radical organic restructuring. Take No. 3 here. If you strip away the fur, the underlying anatomy has mutated into something entirely alien.”

Right on cue, the rat unhinged a horrifying, blood-stained maw that spanned nearly half its body length and violently rammed its face against the iron bars. Clang. Clang.

Sun Ya glanced at the frantic creature in disgust. “Old Wei and I came to a consensus last night. We can confidently confirm one glaring weakness. Regardless of how ‘smart’ these Disguised Infected appear to be, they suffer a massive psychological regression compared to a healthy human.”

“In what metric?” Su Jin asked.

Both old men looked up, locking eyes with him.

“Delayed gratification.”