Doomsday Cognition Guide

The day after the first main road was cleared, the team didn't go on any missions. This street was the most densely packed with zombies in the county. After breaking through it, the entire county was divided into north and south halves, and the core objective had been achieved. The continuous high-intensity fighting had pushed everyone to their limits. At the debriefing meeting the night before, Deputy Secretary Zhang directly announced a two-day break, leaving no room for negotiation.

Li Xuan and his fourth uncle took advantage of the break to go back to the mountains. The SUV turned off the highway access road and slowly drove up the gravel road that his fourth uncle had repaired with an excavator. The culvert was still the same as before, completely blocked by piles of earth and rocks, leaving only a narrow gap that required turning sideways to pass through. The two parked the car outside the culvert, squeezed through the gap, and walked up the path.

The barbs Uncle had installed on the wall were still there, damp with dew, a few water droplets clinging to their tips. Most of the walnut leaves had fallen, and a few hens squatted at the entrance of the shed, lazily pecking at pebbles. White smoke was billowing from the chimney.

Hearing the noise, Mother peeked out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. "You're back. You all rest first, lunch will be ready soon." Although her voice was calm, her anxiety was palpable. Her cousin ran over from the cave, her slippers clattering on the gravel path. She slowed down as she reached him, calling out "Brother," then "Dad." Her worry was less pronounced than her mother's, probably because she had watched Li Xuan train and had a clear understanding of his abilities.

The father emerged from the cave, clutching two electrical wires in his hands, presumably charging himself. He glanced at Li Xuan, then at his fourth uncle, said nothing, placed the wires on the worktable at the cave entrance, and dusted off his hands.

My mother cooked dinner: a plate of stir-fried cured pork and a bowl of steamed egg custard. The family sat down around the table, and my cousin served everyone rice.

After dinner, the father finally spoke: "How have you been these past few days?"

"It's alright," Li Xuan said. "We encountered several waves of zombies, some numbering in the hundreds, others in the dozens. We managed to handle them, and no one was injured."

He spoke casually, as if reporting on a routine training exercise. His father listened without interrupting, tapping his fingers lightly twice on the edge of the table.

Fourth Uncle lit a cigarette beside him without saying a word.

The father remained silent for a few seconds. He knew his son—he said there was no danger, but the reality was always far more perilous. But he didn't press the matter; he simply looked at his fourth uncle.

"Keep an eye on him. Don't let him act impulsively."

Fourth Uncle nodded and flicked the cigarette ash into the metal box at his feet.

My mother was washing dishes in the kitchen; the sounds of the dishes clattering and the water running mingled together. She didn't come out.

That evening, Li Xuan stood on the training platform, facing the sandbags hanging from the crossbeam. They were made of old canvas, stuffed with scraps of cloth and sand, and swayed slightly in the night breeze.

He extended his right hand and gently placed his palm on the surface of the sandbag. The canvas was rough and cold.

He didn't gather his strength, nor did he pull back. His palms remained pressed against the sandbag, then his waist and hips suddenly twisted—the force pushed off the ground from his feet, traveled through his calves, waist, hips, and spine, and swung all the way to his shoulder joint, his entire arm like a whip, channeling the force from his palms. His palms never left the face of the sandbag. The sandbag swung violently backward, the ropes taut, and the crossbeam emitted a short, sharp metallic hum.

He withdrew his hand. The sandbag was still swaying slightly, and a faint palm print remained on the canvas where his palm had touched.

This palm strike was essentially still a unified force. It was just that the distance of force application was compressed to the limit—the palm remained pressed against the sandbag, without retracting or gathering power; with a twist of the waist and hips, the force flowed directly from the soles of the feet to the palm, sending the sandbag flying backward. Zero-distance force application is not the same as internal force. If it were internal force, the sandbag wouldn't move upon impact; the force would penetrate the surface at the moment of contact, creating a hole in the back of the sandbag. But that's a matter for later.

He stood on the platform for a long time. The sound of the waterfall was especially clear at night, and occasionally a ripple would appear on the surface of the pool, as a cave salamander turned over at the bottom of the pool.

The next morning, the mother got up earlier than usual. The aroma of fried dough cakes wafted from the kitchen—something she only made on special occasions. She wrapped the fried dough cakes in oil paper and stuffed them into Li Xuan's backpack, along with a small jar of pickled vegetables and a bag of dried sweet potatoes.

As they were leaving, Father stood at the cave entrance, still clutching the electrical wire, watching them. Mother stood beside him, her apron still on. My cousin peeked out from behind Mother and waved towards the car.

My fourth uncle started the SUV. In the rearview mirror, my father was still standing at the entrance of the hole, still holding the power cord in his hand.

After resting, the team continued advancing along the remaining two main roads. Compared to the first road, the zombie density on these two roads was much lower. Occasionally, they would encounter small groups of zombies, numbering only twenty or thirty, with larger groups only numbering a few dozen. Old Ma would raise his shield to block, Xiao Zhou would fire a few bursts, and Xiao Liu would provide flanking support; they could take them out in about ten minutes. The intensity and danger of the missions were far less than before, and they were able to finish early every evening. They no longer encountered zombie hordes of hundreds like on the first day, nor did they encounter any more mutated individuals like the lightning zombies.

But the search and rescue work did not become less busy despite the reduced danger. Over the course of the week, the team found numerous trapped survivors from every corner of the county. In the first few days, they found over a dozen residents hiding in the top floor of an old residential building in the southern part of the town. Most were elderly people and women with children, surviving on stored food and rainwater. The next day, the team cleared an abandoned community clinic, finding three medical staff and several patients inside—the clinic's roller shutter was locked from the inside. They had survived for over half a month on glucose and saline solution and were barely able to stand when rescued. A day later, several survivors hiding in the warehouse of a small supermarket on North Street were rescued. One of the cashiers said that on the night of the blood moon, customers went on a rampage, grabbing things like crazy. She was so frightened that she hid in the warehouse, locked the door, and never came out again.

Every time a survivor was found, Xiao Liu would crouch down and speak to them in a low voice, as if afraid of startling them. Lao Ma stood guard outside with his shield raised, glancing into the house every now and then before continuing to watch the street. Xiao Zhou was responsible for escorting the survivors during the transfer, always walking on the outermost edge of the survivor group, gun pointed downwards, his pace neither fast nor slow.

During this period, Li Xuan would spend one or two hours each evening in an empty warehouse next to the parking lot teaching the armed police and regular police officers the most basic power training.

About thirty people arrived the night before. Half were armed police and half were regular police; Old Ma was also there, his shield leaning against the wall. Little Zhou stood in the back row, his gun still slung over his shoulder. Li Xuan walked to the front of the crowd without saying a word.

"Tonight we'll start with standing meditation. The purpose of standing meditation isn't to train your legs, but to train your structural stability. Only when you stand firmly can your power be transmitted from the soles of your feet. If your feet aren't stable, no matter how much power you have, you can't project it out."

He stood sideways, knees slightly bent, feet gripping the ground, hips lowered, spine straight. "This is called the 'Two-Character Sheep Stance.' The knees shouldn't go past the toes, but they also shouldn't be too straight—too straight and the power won't come up, too bent and the power will be stuck in the knees. The center of gravity is in the waist and hips, not squatting down."

The people below tried to imitate him. When Old Ma squatted down, his knees went past his toes. Li Xuan walked over and gently pushed the back of his knee with his toes—Old Ma stumbled forward and almost lost his balance. "If your knees go past your toes, your center of gravity shifts to the balls of your feet. You'll fall over if someone pushes you." Old Ma blushed and stood up again. Xiao Liu had been standing next to him for a while. Li Xuan glanced at the angle of his knees and hips but didn't correct him. One short policeman's hip joints were too tight, and his waist and hips couldn't sink down. Li Xuan told him not to stand at the standard height yet, but to first find the feeling of power from his waist and hips. Xiao Zhou's shoulders were as tense as a fully drawn bowstring. Li Xuan had to press and loosen them three or four times before he found a relaxed position.

On the first night, they only practiced one movement—standing meditation. Li Xuan made them stand for a full hour, with two breaks in between. When they were dismissed, Old Ma rubbed his knees and muttered, "Standing for half a day was more tiring than carrying a shield."

"That's because you're not standing in the right place," Fourth Uncle said from the doorway.

The following evening, Li Xuan began teaching the breakdown of the power generation movements.

"Tonight we'll teach you how to generate power. Wing Chun's inch punch doesn't rely on arm power. The power starts from pushing off the ground with your feet, travels through your calves to your waist and hips, and with a twist of your waist and hips, your spine swings out, your shoulder joints relax, and your arms spring out smoothly. The fist is relaxed until it hits the target, only tightening at the moment of contact."

He walked to the sandbag by the wall, placed his fist on its surface, and suddenly twisted his waist and hips—the sandbag bounced back half a meter. "Full strength. Everyone can develop it; no special ability is needed."

Xiao Liu was the first to try. He placed his fist on the sandbag, twisted his waist and hips—the sandbag moved, but only wobbled. There was a noticeable time difference between his waist and hip rotation and his arm's extension; the force dissipated in his shoulder. Li Xuan told him not to rush, to practice the connection smoothly first. Xiao Liu bit his lip and tried again; the sandbag bounced back about half a meter. Lao Ma punched the sandbag, sending it flying nearly a meter, but his wrist wasn't locked tight enough, and his entire arm trembled when it bounced back. Li Xuan corrected him twice. Xiao Zhou had the best feel for the gun, but his shoulders were always too tense when he stood in stance. At the moment of exertion, his shoulder joints didn't loosen, and the power was stuck in his shoulder blades, unable to be transmitted to his arm. Li Xuan pressed his shoulders and repeatedly loosened them four or five times.

And so, he taught a little bit each night, explaining the principles, letting them experience it themselves, and then correcting their mistakes. On the seventh night, the day before the entire search and rescue operation ended, Li Xuan didn't teach anything new. Instead, he reviewed everything from the previous seven days: stance training, decomposing power, the complete inch punch, weight shifting, breathing coordination, and footwork transitions. He had everyone do it in order, watching from the side and correcting any problems individually.

The last half hour was, as usual, for push-hands practice. Two people formed a pair; one assumed the "two-character clamp sheep stance," while the other pushed the other's chest with their palm, trying to maintain balance. Old Ma and Little Liu were a pair. With one push from Old Ma, Little Liu stumbled back two steps. Old Ma chuckled and said, "Your lower body is still unstable." Little Liu got up, dusted himself off, and stood back up. This time he was much more stable. Old Ma pushed again, and he only swayed slightly, his feet remaining still.

As usual, Fourth Uncle walked in from outside, leaned against the door frame, a cigarette dangling from his hand, and looked at the people standing crookedly in the room, his lips twitching slightly.

As the meeting was dismissed, Old Ma rubbed his knees and said, "After standing in this stance for seven days, my legs feel like they don't belong to me anymore."

Xiao Liu walked up to Li Xuan, sweat still beading on his forehead. "Brother Li, will you continue teaching me?"

"The basics have all been taught," Li Xuan said. "The rest is up to you to practice. Whether you practice well or not depends on each person."

Xiao Liu nodded, turned, and left. His steps were much steadyer than seven days ago, his heels landing with a crisp, decisive gait. Xiao Zhou picked up his gun from the wall and slung it back over his shoulder; this time, he remembered to take it off first before practicing his punches.

Watching their retreating figures, Li Xuan recalled events from another timeline. Back then, after leaving the county town, he eventually joined the army, where he truly began to systematically learn martial arts. His instructor was a veteran who had retired from the special forces; a man of few words, but every word he uttered was to the point. Later, that man perished in a horde of zombies while covering the retreat of new recruits. But Li Xuan had used his methods for seventeen years. Now, teaching them to these people, it wasn't a waste of time.

On the evening the entire operation came to a close, Deputy Secretary Zhang held a brief debriefing meeting in the parking lot. He stood on an empty supply crate, his glasses dusty.

"Comrades, the initial phase of the search and rescue operation in the county town has officially concluded today. The subsequent cleanup work will be organized independently by the Armed Police and the regular police forces. Your mission as the vanguard has been accomplished."

No one applauded. Old Ma placed his shield at his feet, sat down, and let out a long sigh. Little Zhou rested his gun on his shoulder, tilted his head back, and took a large gulp of water. Little Liu squatted by the roadside, slowly wiping the bloodstains from his scabbard with a damp cloth.

Deputy Secretary Zhang climbed down from the supply box, walked over to Li Xuan and his fourth uncle, and took out a folded list from his pocket, handing it to them. "This is the supply list for this operation. Take a look, and pick out anything you need; it will be considered your reward for this operation."

The list was densely packed with various supplies—food, medicine, fuel, weapons, batteries, water purification tablets, and emergency tents. Li Xuan discussed it with his fourth uncle and selected twenty kilograms of rice, a box of compressed biscuits, two barrels of gasoline, a batch of antibiotics and hemostatic drugs, and three sets of bomb suits, all of which were necessities that the base was currently lacking.

Deputy Secretary Zhang watched from the side, and after they finished choosing, he took the list and glanced at it. "Is that all? You took such a big risk this time, it's only right that you take more."

"That's enough," Li Xuan said. "Leave the rest to the cleanup teams later."

Deputy Secretary Zhang folded the list and put it back in his pocket. Just as he was about to say something, Li Xuan asked again, "Is there any gold?"

Deputy Secretary Zhang was taken aback. "Gold?"

"Yes. Scrap gold jewelry, gold bars, gold coins, anything is fine."

"We do have some," Deputy Secretary Zhang said. "We recovered some when we were cleaning up banks and gold shops in the county town, but they're not necessities, so they weren't listed on this inventory. What do you need that for?"

Li Xuan didn't answer directly. His fourth uncle coughed and stubbed out his cigarette. "My superpower is related to metals. Gold might be helpful. I'd like to take it back and try it out."

Deputy Secretary Zhang glanced at him, didn't press further, and turned to go to the warehouse. A dozen minutes later, he returned carrying a small cloth bag, which made a dull metallic clanging sound as he placed it on the table. "Take these for now. There are some more in the warehouse; just let me know if you need anything later."

Li Xuan opened the cloth bag and glanced inside. Inside were several gold necklaces of varying thicknesses, a few deformed gold rings, a pair of earrings, and a few small pieces of gold. The weight was substantial. He put the bag away and nodded to Deputy Secretary Zhang.

"We may need your help again later," said Deputy Secretary Zhang. "There are some special situations that the armed police and regular police may not be able to handle on their own."

"Just contact me directly if anything comes up," Uncle Si said.

The two got into the off-road vehicle. In the rearview mirror, the outline of the county town grew smaller and smaller. The safe corridor they had cleared out piece by piece had been sealed off by the armed police with sandbags, and a sentry in a reflective vest stood at the checkpoint.

The carriage was quiet. After driving for a while, Fourth Uncle suddenly said, "He actually believed the gold thing."

Li Xuan thought for a moment. "It's not that I believe it, it's that there's no need to ask."

Uncle Si didn't say anything more. The setting sun dyed the road a hazy orange. In the trunk, rice, compressed biscuits, gasoline, medicine, explosion-proof clothing, and that small bag of gold swayed gently with the movement of the car.