The cannibals, who tried to fight back in a panic and panic, were soon caught off guard by the improvised machine gun turrets placed overhead—it seemed that the old knife also had a good grasp of the timing.

After a sneak attack by Mosilaire and a barrage of machine-gun turrets, seven or eight corpses were left behind, and the dull-headed fools finally thought about escaping the cursed land of death.

But Mosilaire just indifferently aimed at the figures running wildly in the sight glass, and then gently pulled the silicone trigger in his hand, aiming at the next frightened figure running wildly in the moonlight in the instantaneous churning blood mist.

One cannibal was lucky enough to cunningly escape Mosilere's harvest and sanctions along the corner obscured by the building, hurriedly turning over the first protective wall nearly three meters high and disappearing from Mosilere's field of vision.

But Mosilaire knew he wouldn't be able to get far, because the limping guy had already been wounded in the left leg by a machine gun.

Soon he will be completely lost in the endless zombie siege attracted by the sound of gunfire and the smell of blood—as if he had never appeared.

Sure enough, not far from the base, a very terrible and painful cry suddenly sounded.

Mosilaire sighed, and finally climbed onto the first protective wall of the base.

The spring wind is very warm during the day, but when the night comes, it will only make people feel bitterly cold.

In the midst of the other party's pleading gaze, Mosilaire still raised the R4 charged rifle that had been rendered white by the moonlight.

She closed her eyes and pulled the trigger, and when she opened them again, all she saw was a viscous mixture of flesh, plasma, and bone.

At least she ended his pain cleanly, even if it was more likely to be a vicious curse than a sincere thanks.

Mosilaire and the old knife worked on the blood, fat, and brains all over the ground overnight, but when Winnie woke up at dawn, she still keenly felt that something unusual was happening in the base—the smell of blood around Mosilaire's body and the tiredness on his face could not be concealed—as for the old knife? The heartless guy was still so immersed in the thrill of machine-gun fire that he kept chattering at a high frequency while he was eating breakfast, and talked to everyone about things other than scientific research in a rare way.

Lao Dao first started with his childhood experience of being bullied by his peers, and then suddenly talked about his extraordinary scientific research talent in his youth, and was invited by a local rich man to participate in a secret research, and then met the love of his life at work and married after falling in love and other old-fashioned plots, and finally Lao Dao was able to summarize like this: Last night was the most exciting experience in his life!

While Winnie was still looking puzzled to understand what was going on, Mosilaire quietly rolled her eyes at the rare and ungraceful smug old knife.

After arranging her words, she informed Winnie of the attack on the base the previous night, and declared her side victorious in a look of adoration - of course, some scenes of bloody violence were thoughtfully and gently omitted by Mosillaire.

After breakfast, Mosilele rarely did not work immediately, but returned to the barn uncharacteristically, and lay down beside Peanut with her large pillow in her arms, tossing a crudely made gold ring while contemplating her future—almost the first time she had killed someone. Even if the other person is not innocent.

The ring that flew up and down in her palm was the only thing of any value she had found in a pile of flesh last night, aside from a few short bows, and it was inscribed with a biohazard warning sign that Mosilaire had identified as a cannibal last night with the strange icons painted all over her body.

This is one of several of the larger cannibal totems that Winnie had told her about - and it is unknown where the wild men with an average life expectancy of only forty years and a penchant for inbred marriage saw this symbol.

There must be some hidden past beneath the blizzards and sands of this planet—it must have been a long time ago, long enough to turn flesh and bones into dust.

As Mosileelle tried to think of a profound philosophical question, Peanut lay on her stomach again and stared at Mosilere's face with watery eyes—the grateful fellow had loved to be around her since she rescued her from the wreckage of the ship.

So Mosilere, who was interrupted from thinking, pulled back the thoughts that had somehow floated to the great black hole in the center of Carridona, and caught the golden ring that flew into the air—she would not admit that she had just lost her mind when she was contemplating the philosophy of life.

In the end, Mosilaire relented and decided to give himself two days off to take a good rest, so that the confusion and fear in his heart were all gone!

Relieved to make this decision, Miss Mosilare put down her peanuts, threw out her pillow, and happily flipped in the barn - oops, she accidentally knocked over a soil cultivation box!

Hopefully won't be blamed by Winnie - Mosilaire playfully sticks out her tongue.

In the days that followed, in addition to teaching Miss Winnie how to read and write, Mosilaire would sometimes take her to the rooftops on a fine day to practice shooting with the zombies roaming outside the base, so that Winnie could become familiar with and master the firing methods and shooting skills of the charged rifle.

Winnie was a smart kid and a very talented shooter - Mosilaire felt that she could become a sharpshooter after rigorous and systematic training, but she also hoped that Winnie would never use a firearm.

During this time, Mosilele kept in touch with Gathering Point Three, and finally received a request to meet with the on-board radio station at the Gathering Place, three days after the deal was concluded, when Mosilele was sleeping on a lazy afternoon as warm as the sun, and it was Winnie who came running to wake her up.

After confirming the code, the convoy asked for the detailed coordinates of the base, and arrived at the first protective wall of the edge colony about half an hour later.

The convoy consisted of two military Humvees and three modified Wuling Hongguang. As soon as the vehicle stalled, a dozen heavily armed men stepped off the Humvee and began to kill a small number of zombies in the vicinity to cover the convoy's entry into the fringe colony.

The small amount of supplies they were transporting didn't seem worth the effort, but Mosilel felt like he had guessed what Gathering Three was going to do—it was good to make sure a deal was good for both parties, but it was even better if he could get what he wanted at no cost.

Instead of immediately asking the old knife to open the simple iron door of the first protective wall, Mosilaire, who was observing from the rooftop, demanded that all personnel in Gathering Place 3 who passed through the first protective wall unconditionally surrender all their weapons.

At first, of course, the guys who tried to steal the chickens and dogs were reluctant - but soon, they pushed and shoved to turn in their guns.

Because after a violent and terrible tremor, the ground under their feet cracked countless black holes, large and small, and some people thought that there had been an unprecedented and violent geological disaster, but the reality was far more interesting, more magical, and more dramatic than they imagined.

Rising from the rift were hundreds of massive steel turrets, their metal surfaces refracting cold light that even drowned out the sun's rays hanging overhead—no one would try to fight these massive turrets that were several meters tall with flesh and blood - especially if they were pointing their black holes at you.