Reborn as the Doomsday Tycoon: My Zombie Apocalypse Harem

Xiao Yang unloaded winter tactical suits, combat boots, and gloves from his spatial storage—thick enough to withstand zombie bites. Next came three Tang swords, military daggers, and the lone three-bullet revolver.

"Tang blades work best," he demonstrated the curved sword's lethal arc. "Aim for the neck pivot point. Clean decapitation."

Summoning Mu Wanqing and Lu You from their third-floor vigil, he laid out the plan: "Tomorrow we sweep the villas. You're both coming."

"But—" Mu Wanqing's protest died under his glacial stare.

"No buts. This gated community's low density makes it perfect for your first hunt." His fingers tapped the map. "700 residents max. Scattered targets."

Lu You gripped her sword hilt, resolve hardening. "You resurrected me. Where you lead, I follow."

"Not for me," Xiao Yang corrected. "For us."

Dawn Patrol

Steam rose from Lu You's protein-packed breakfast: fried eggs, bacon stacks, and congee laced with medicinal herbs. "Eat. You'll need the fuel," she ordered, channeling kitchen authority into combat prep.

They moved in formation—Xiao Yang spearheading, Mu Wanqing sandwiched, Lu You guarding the rear. Fresh snow crunched underfoot, their first target's door pried open with surgical silence.

A male zombie lunged.

Shink!

The Tang sword pierced its forehead with metronome precision. Brain matter oozed as Xiao Yang extracted a thumb-sized crystal. "Core rule: retrieve these from the pineal gland."

The women doubled over retching.

"Control your volume," he hissed, dragging them inside. Two more zombies awaited—mother and child, frozen mid-embrace.

Baptism by Rot

Xiao Yang pinned the child zombie against wallpaper blooming with mold. "Lu You. Now."

"It's... it's just a girl!" Her blade trembled.

"Correction: was." His baton pressed the tiny thrasher's collarbone. "Swing!"

The cleaver stroke split the skull diagonally. Lu You stared at her quivering blade, breakfast surging up her throat.

"Next time," Xiao Yang wiped gore from her cheek, "eyes open."

He turned to Mu Wanqing. "Your turn. Harvest."

She gagged through the dissection, fishing out crystals slick with cerebral fluid. "They... they feel like overcooked meatballs."

"Adapt faster." He pocketed the prizes. "These are our lifelines."