The next day, Lin Feng was up before dawn, or more accurately, he'd barely slept. A light doze, maybe an hour's worth, then nothing.

Couldn't be helped. A place like this, after a night like that, it didn't matter how unshakable you were. Sleep wasn't coming.

The camp's security situation was a disaster. Everyone knew it.

He'd even started wondering whether Merle's whole routine of pouring whiskey down his throat was just a sleep aid.

Honestly, not out of the question.

But before he'd fully shaken off the haze, he heard it, the dry crunch of dead leaves and snapping twigs, and underneath that, a dull, rhythmic thudding.

He followed the sound. The Bowie knife was already in his hand by the time he parted the brush.

A short-haired woman was swinging a shovel with everything she had.

Carol heard him and spun around, face white with fear, then saw it was Lin Feng, and the panic crumbled into something worse. Carol touched the wetness on her cheeks, pushed up a shaky smile, and said, "Did I wake you? I'm so sorry, I... I just wanted to..."

The words fell apart before Carol could finish. The tears came back down.

Not far away, a man lay in the dirt. Ed. The man who'd known only one way to use his hands.

A large chunk of flesh was missing from the neck, white bone faintly visible beneath. Two ragged patches had been gnawed from the face. It was not a peaceful sight.

Lin Feng looked at the tears tracking steadily down Carol's face and felt something give, just for a moment. He slid the knife back into its sheath, then with a clean pivot wrested the shovel from Carol's grip before Carol could register what was happening.

"No, no, I can do it. You don't have to—"

Carol reached for the shovel, but Lin Feng was already swinging it in a steady arc, fast enough that Carol couldn't get close.

He didn't look back. "I'm a little hungry. Think you could throw together something simple? Just a favor for me."

Carol's eyes were red. Carol opened his mouth, tried to find something to say, but the tears wouldn't stop. Just a hard nod, and a thick sound of acknowledgment through the nose.

Then Carol walked away, quiet footsteps, careful ones, like they might disturb the camp's sleep, or the sleep of the dead.

Daryl had been up early too. Daryl stood watching in silence, said nothing, but something moved in Daryl's eyes, a flicker that didn't quite resolve, like a memory surfacing without a name attached.

Lin Feng didn't rush. He kept a steady rhythm, shovel after shovel, occasionally bending to pull a rock out of the loose earth. It didn't take long. The pit was deep enough for a grown adult to lie flat in.

He let out a rough breath, planted the shovel, and pushed himself up and out in one easy motion. Wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his hand, gave a short nod in Daryl's direction.

Daryl didn't return it. Just turned and ducked back into the tent.

When Lin Feng got back to camp, Carol pressed a plate into his hands, not much on it, but made with care. He took it and said quietly, "My condolences."

Carol took the shovel back, said thank you several times with red-rimmed eyes, then walked alone into the tree line.

He watched that solitary figure disappear into the woods and felt it settle somewhere in his chest.

The Carol who'd come out the other side of all this, genuinely formidable. The resilience, the combat instinct, the mental bedrock. All first-rate.

But that strength hadn't come from nowhere. It had come from a woman being pushed past every limit, and finally, quietly, breaking through the floor.

Lin Feng exhaled and turned his attention to the meal. Hard-won hot food. He finished it fast.

There was a full day ahead. They needed to run Atlanta again, weapons, medicine, and enough gasoline to fuel a long drive. He'd already worked out the roster: the two troublemakers plus Glenn, who knew the streets. Four people total.

Merle on long-range support. Him and Daryl on close-quarters and scavenging. Glenn, Glenn wasn't ready for combat yet, and Lin Feng wasn't expecting that. Keep the route straight, keep the vehicle steady. That was enough.

Not long after, Rick crawled out of the tent: hair a wreck, dark circles deep enough to cast shadows, wearing the same expression everyone had who hadn't slept.

"Hey. Morning, Lin Feng."

"Morning, Rick."

Rick walked over and looked at him directly. "What's the plan today? Start fixing up the camp?"

Lin Feng gave a half-nod, half-shake of his head and laid it out. "Two groups. Your people handle repairs here. I'll take Merle, Daryl, and Glenn into Atlanta, scavenge weapons, whatever else we can use."

Rick's face shifted. The gun bag. Left near that tank yesterday. Rick hadn't forgotten. "I'm coming. I know a spot with weapons, a good one."

Lin Feng considered it for a moment, then nodded. "Camp still can't sit idle, though. At minimum, basic perimeter fencing and tripwire alerts."

"No problem. I'll work it out with Shane."

The camp started waking up around them, voices layering in, the quiet dissolving into the ordinary noise of morning.

Rick headed to Shane's tent. Lin Feng didn't linger either, he made his way to the outer edge of camp, where the Dixon brothers had set up.

Daryl stepped out at the sound of footsteps, crossbow already in hand. Saw it was Lin Feng and lowered it.

"Lin Feng. What is it?"

Lin Feng ran through the plan again. Daryl listened, nodded. "Fine by me. Leave that bastard out of it, though."

Lin Feng tilted his head slightly. Right. Merle had put down enough whiskey last night that the snoring from inside the tent was still going strong.

Nerves of steel, that one.

Only Daryl could live with someone like that without losing it. Anyone else would've, actually, no, yelling never worked on Merle anyway. Those two had been at each other's throats their whole lives.

"Fair enough. Drank too much, better to sit this one out. Last thing we need is trouble."

Daryl nodded. "When?"

"Ten minutes. Gear up."

Lin Feng left.

On the other side of camp, Lori had Carl by the hand and was in a low, tight argument with Rick. Neither was giving an inch, both pressing the same points over and over.

Shane stood nearby looking like someone had dropped something unpleasant in Shane's mouth.

Good news: the camp had activity.

Bad news: want to guess who didn't make the cut?

Glenn had been watching the whole thing quietly from off to the side. Then Glenn noticed Lin Feng watching too, and walked over.

The eyes were bright, sharper than usual, with something underneath that looked a lot like anticipation. "When do we head out?"

Lin Feng read it in about half a second. This kid wanted to prove something. "No rush, give it a minute for Rick. Hey, you got anything to defend yourself with?"

Glenn shook his head.

"Wait here."

Lin Feng walked back to the pickup, made a show of going through his pack, and pulled the Glock 19 from his storage space. One round fired, nineteen left. He turned and held it out.

"Take it. Might come in handy."

Glenn stared at it, then at Lin Feng. "For me? What about you?"

"I've got knives. And indoor searches — a gunshot draws the whole horde."

Glenn's brow creased. "Then I shouldn't either—"

Lin Feng looked at Glenn with a small, unreadable smile. "This isn't just for walkers, bro."

Glenn went still. Then nodded, slow and quiet.

➤ Next: Force +10, Guts +10086

Chapter 8 - Force +10, Guts +10086

Lin Feng sat in the pickup, humming softly to himself, relaxed and unhurried as he took in the surroundings.

"Honestly, if this place weren't so close to Atlanta, I'd want to build a base here."

Behind the wheel, Daryl's eyes flickered. "A base?"

"Yeah. A base. Somewhere we can live permanently — shelter for us, for them, for everyone."

Daryl said nothing. Almost wanted to laugh.

Was this guy actually that naive, deep down? Genuinely kind of stupid.

But somewhere beneath that, a seed quietly took root.

Before long, Lin Feng and Daryl reached the outer edge of Atlanta. Once the pickup was tucked away and hidden, Glenn and Rick rolled in behind them in the cargo van.

Lin Feng slung on his backpack, snapped the buckles, and turned to face the other two. "Daryl and I are on scout and close-quarters duty. Rick handles fire support if things go sideways. Glenn — keep yourself alive, and the moment you hear gunshots, be ready to pull back."

Daryl nodded once. Silent approval.

If this green kid wasn't scared, Daryl wasn't about to be either.

Rick started to say something, but Lin Feng cut it off before the words could form. "Think of Lori. Think of Carl."

Rick went quiet. A hand came down on Lin Feng's shoulder, one firm pat. Somewhere in the back of Rick's mind, a new label got attached: steady, reliable, the kind who puts others first. And quietly, another decision was made.

Glenn didn't say much at all. When fingers closed around the cold grip of the gun, the nod was firm.

Lin Feng breathed out. If you all came along, how am I supposed to stash the good stuff into my storage space?

He was selfless. Just not that selfless.

Handing the pistol over to Glenn did nothing to help. If anything, it made the firepower-deficiency anxiety worse. His hunger for real guns had never been stronger.

"No objections — then we stick to the plan. Grab that gun bag first, then sweep for whatever else we can find."

They moved out together, using parked cars and crumbling buildings as cover, slipping into Atlanta through a wide arc before pulling up at the mouth of an alley.

Lin Feng looked.

The gun bag was still there, right where it had been left, slumped against the side of the wrecked tank like it was waiting for someone to come collect it.

He and Daryl traded a glance. Then Lin Feng dropped into a crouch and broke into a low jog, covering the ground fast, reaching the tank in moments. He grabbed the gun bag with one hand and scooped up Rick's hat with the other.

That hat wasn't getting left behind.

From Rick to Carl, and then to Judith, the Little Ass-Kicker. It had been there for all of it. Every sacrifice, every hard mile Rick's group had walked.

Lin Feng spun around and sprinted back to the alley mouth.

He pressed the hat into Rick's hands and dropped his voice. "Move, move, move. A few walkers over there clocked me."

They didn't need telling twice. Led by Glenn, the group hit the fire escape, crossed a corridor at pace, and ducked into a room.

Lin Feng let out a breath. He dumped the gun bag, heavier than it looked, into Rick's arms and shook his head. "Feels like we just robbed the place."

Rick put the hat on, a short laugh escaping before it could be stopped. "Maybe I should put you under arrest."

Lin Feng rolled his eyes, still grinning. "Mr. Sheriff, a little gratitude might be more appropriate."

"You're right." The humor settled into something genuine. "I should be grateful. These will make a real difference back at the camp."

Lin Feng went still and listened to the building around them. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Don't pop the champagne at halftime, it's bad luck. Save the thank-yous for when we're home. Right now, Phase Two."

"I'm coming with you. Two pairs of hands are better than one."

Lin Feng had no argument with that. Instead, he turned to Glenn. "Any illegal clinics in the area? Gang hideouts, crew spots, even suspected ones?"

Glenn blinked, caught flat-footed by the question.

Rick, on the other hand, immediately lit up and gave Lin Feng a thumbs-up.

It made sense. The street-facing locations got turned over constantly. The gray-zone spots, the ones that weren't supposed to exist, those were where the real stockpiles ended up. Weapons, ammo, medicine, things that didn't get reported or inventoried.

Glenn thought it through carefully, then started hunting around the room for something to write with. Paper and pen materialized from a drawer. Glenn spread a sheet flat and began sketching.

"I know one illegal clinic. Out from here, three intersections, left turn. There's an alley. Go in, up to the second floor, third door on the right. Heavy double iron door. That's the one."

Glenn paused, then kept drawing.

"For a gang hideout... there's one spot I'm not certain about. But I saw a lot of people coming and going from there. Could be something."

The second map took shape next to the first, only two blocks from the clinic. Not far.

Lin Feng picked both sheets up, looked them over, folded them, and slid them into a pocket.

"Then let's go. Sooner we finish, sooner we're home."

The three of them moved out together. Glenn stayed behind in the room, weapon up, holding the position alone.

Lips parted. Closed again. Nothing came out.

Lin Feng pushed the pace with Daryl and Rick alongside. Neither of them was dead weight, with a clear objective and two hand-drawn maps, it took thirty minutes to thread through the streets and reach the alley outside the clinic.

Lin Feng flicked the blood off the blade, dragged it once across a walker's jacket, and slid it back into the sheath.

He glanced at the EXP bar.

[17/200]

Not bad. Close to a tenth.

He stepped up to the ground-floor iron door and pushed. Nothing. He tried pulling. Same result.

A small frown.

"Might be locked from inside. We find another way up to the second floor." He paused. "And we're not ruling out the possibility that someone's in there."

"Everyone sharp. I didn't drag us out here on our first team outing just to come back looking like we lost a fight."

The joke landed dry, but the weight underneath it was real. Everyone felt it.

Rick and Daryl nodded. They turned and moved deeper, feeling their way forward.

Formation shifted. Daryl took point. Moving low and quiet, compact crossbow sweeping from cover to cover, doorways, shadows, tight angles, working through every possible hiding spot with practiced efficiency.

The stairwell entrance on the far side came into view.

Lin Feng tried the door. It opened.

A sharp, grating creak split the silence, and from somewhere up in the stairwell came sounds that were not human. Snarls, low and ragged. The uneven scrape of footsteps.

Lin Feng moved inside without hesitation. He drove his elbow into the display case glass, reached through, and pulled out a long-handled fire axe.

Divine Weapon +1. Strength +10. Courage +10,086.

He glanced back. "Lock the door behind you. I'm on point from here." His eyes found Rick. "If it isn't human, hold your fire. Trust me."

Rick made a sound of acknowledgment. But the hand had already found the grip of the Colt Python.

Axe in hand, Lin Feng stepped into the stairwell's dim light and kept walking.

➤ Next: Have You Ever Won the Lottery?