On the seventh day of the apocalypse, I died heroically trying to grab a box of braised beef noodles. After being reincarnated, I became a... Low-level zombie with missing arms and legs, walking like a tango?
While other zombies rely on roaring, I rely on calculation; while others eat their brains, I eat evolutionary materials + the system's venomous AI; while other zombies bump into each other, my zombie group builds infrastructure, builds canals, establishes a curfew system, and writes a zombie constitution.
I originally wanted to be a salty fish and rotten king, but the group of zombie boys around me were either chewing on the corners or trying to play Tetris with my ribs. As a "zombie lord", I was forced to go about my business: fighting zombie waves, negotiating deals, robbing relics, fighting against AI, and thinking about the philosophical question of "whether humans are worth saving."
Say I am the savior? Stop it, I can barely control myself.
Call me a villain? That's not right, I only eat bad guys, and bring a sense of order along the way.
In the ruins, I will lead a group of zombies who are not very smart...
Build a place to live.
This is not a doomsday salvation story.
This is a hilarious story of a social animal trying to build a city in a sea of corpses while thinking about the evolution of life.
