Hunter's Game 2: Zombie Paradise - Chapter 1

“Mr. Li Mo, welcome to Black Goat Games. This stage is the Zombie Pen. Please select your weapons.”

I knew I could choose no more than three, so I picked an ice axe, a suppressed pistol with eighteen rounds, and one grenade.

I had barely finished when a handsome young man sidled up beside me. He glanced at my choices and laughed.

“Did you pick that ice axe for me, Senior? With your pathetic combat skills, you think you can cave in a zombie’s skull? You’d be better off taking two more guns.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Didn’t you look at the map? The grounds are wide open. Gunshots will only draw a horde. In a place like that, an ice axe is the most practical weapon you can have.”

I glanced at his screen. “Let’s see what you chose. A duckbill hammer, a combat knife, and a sniper rifle.”

He grinned. “We haven’t seen each other in two years. This game is the perfect chance to show you what your junior can do!”

The brat was my junior, Chen Lang. The two of us had both been recommended for this round of Black Goat Games.

Unlike before, this time we had been required to sign waivers acknowledging that we might die.

After Black Goat Games completed its Series C funding round, the company bought an island and named it Apocalypse Island.

The island’s laboratory cultivated zombies, then penned up tens of thousands of them in preparation for a massive live-action survival game—Zombie Apocalypse Island.

Ten players had been selected for this real-life escape game, drawing worldwide attention.

Influencers streamed it, celebrities endorsed it, and the spectacle seized more than enough eyeballs to attract investors and advertisers by the dozen.

More than ten thousand cameras had been installed throughout the grounds. Every player’s performance would be broadcast live around the world.

Once I had chosen my weapons, I carefully read through the game instructions again.

“Within the Zombie Pen, each zombie killed is worth one point.”

“Points are also awarded for completing special missions and clearing the stage.”

“Accumulated points may be exchanged for weapons, equipment, and other items, or converted into prize money when the game ends.”

“One point is worth 100,000 RMB. Upon completion, each surviving player will receive an additional clearance prize of ten million RMB.”

“If a player dies, that player fails the game and forfeits all points. The deceased player’s family will receive five million RMB in compensation.”

“Any player bitten by a zombie will also become a zombie within three minutes. Other players are authorized to end that player’s life and will bear no legal liability.”

I took out the map again. The Zombie Pen was an enormous circular building, an almost completely enclosed space.

The ten players in this game would have to spend twenty-four hours inside that sealed arena full of zombies.

There would, of course, be two rest periods of four hours each. Discounting those breaks, we would spend sixteen hours in the zombies’ company.

“Fog frequently forms inside the game grounds. Players who wear glasses are advised to switch to contact lenses to prevent impaired vision.”

That warning struck me as odd.

The arena was man-made, not a jungle. Why would fog form inside it?

And if the fog was artificially produced, what purpose did it serve?

To create a frightening atmosphere?

Was being locked in a room with zombies not frightening enough?

In a blank corner of the map, I wrote a question mark with my marker: Artificial fog. Purpose unknown.

I continued turning the pages, studying every detail.

The *Map of Apocalypse Island* was as thick as a hefty dictionary, with extraordinarily detailed descriptions of the entire island’s terrain.

But I kept returning to the pages on the Zombie Pen.

Then a strange line of text caught my eye.

The writing looked almost typeset.

Why only almost?

Because the line had clearly been added later. Someone had written it there deliberately.

The handwriting was extraordinarily neat, such a convincing imitation that it blended almost perfectly with the printed text around it.

Yet if I tilted the page and changed the angle of the light, I could see that it had never belonged in the *Map of Apocalypse Island*. A slight difference in color betrayed it.

Curious, I read the line three times to myself.

“Fog warnings use three colors. Green indicates visibility of approximately fifty meters, yellow approximately twenty meters, and red approximately five meters.”

Fog?

Fog again.

Who had added this passage?

And why?

I could almost see the person patiently copying each printed stroke, carefully recording this message on the page.

I knew it could not have been the game administrators. They had no reason to go to so much trouble.

Unless this was merely some elaborate prank, the writer might have been someone familiar with the game.

Someone using this secretive, roundabout method to pass on a message.

I stared at the line as a mystery took shape in the back of my mind.

At the time, I could never have imagined that those words left by a stranger would save both my life and the lives of the other players in the game to come.