Apocalypse: King of Zombies Chapter 1179: What Mutant Beast Doesn’t Resist?

"Ethan, are you alright?" Skinny Pete rushed toward him.

"I’m okay." Ethan shook his head and pointed at the downed bird. "Check on that one."

Ethan had taken precautions. He delivered just two blows using the poleaxe, and then he held back from striking more—he feared he might unintentionally end its life.

Without Henry present, if the wounds proved too grave for recovery, their entire journey would end up pointless.

They approached the peregrine falcon. It lay spread out on the earth, utterly still.

"...It’s not dead, right?" Skinny Pete whispered.

"It shouldn’t be." Ethan knelt down to examine it. "I struck it only twice. Killing it isn’t simple. Likely it fainted from losing too much blood."

Skinny Pete’s brow furrowed. "So what do we do next? Henry’s absent, and we lack the knowledge to heal it."

"Subdue it initially," Ethan instructed. "Tier 10 mutant beasts possess remarkable self-recovery abilities. Plus, I steered clear of fatal areas. It ought to mend itself."

"Got it."

Skinny Pete moved closer to the falcon, raised its head slightly... and gave it a slap.

The peregrine falcon’s eyes fluttered open, hazy and without focus.

That gave Skinny Pete his chance. He triggered [Beast Control].

Having employed the skill countless times, it had become second nature. As a top Tier 10 himself, handling a severely wounded Tier 10 mutant beast posed no challenge.

In a brief instant, the peregrine falcon’s opposition dissolved.

Now it belonged to him.

"Heh." Skinny Pete smirked. "That’s one more under our belt. Snag another, and next outing, everyone gets an aerial mount."

"Sure." Ethan’s gaze lifted skyward, already picturing the scene. "Goldie and the land-based beasts can remain behind to protect the base. We’ll soar on the flying ones and stir up chaos anywhere we please."

"No sweat, Captain." Skinny Pete patted his chest confidently. "Fulfilling that dream won’t be tough."

"Mm."

Ethan stopped for a moment, then inquired, "Skinny Pete—do you need to

rough them up badly first when controlling mutant beasts?"

"Not always," Skinny Pete explained. "They resist when I attempt control. If they’re seriously injured, their opposition weakens, making success simpler."

"So if they don’t resist," Ethan mused deliberately, "you could tame them without harming them."

"Naturally." Skinny Pete huffed. "But which mutant beast doesn’t put up a fight?"

"Not every one does," Ethan muttered while stroking his chin.

His ongoing concern remained those white-furred apes.

True, relations had warmed over recent days. The bond was... acceptable.

Yet "acceptable" fell short of "trustworthy."

Ethan despised the uncertainty of an uncontrollable element—particularly one that could crush his whole squad if it stirred in a foul mood.

He’d considered letting Skinny Pete tame the white-furred ape chief.

The issue lay in their rapid progress. Presently, every one of the eight stood at Stage C—Tier 12. Attempting to weaken one beforehand? Unlikely to succeed.

During the past several days, Ethan had observed them intently, seeking a true measure of their power.

Verdict: alarming.

Even as a mid-Tier 11, Ethan couldn’t stand against a single one.

The divide between Tier 11 and Stage C (Tier 12) resembled the chasm from Tier 5 to Stage D (Tier 6) in the past. It transcended mere "slight superiority."

It formed an entirely separate realm.

Ethan suspected that achieving peak Tier 11 might still leave him unable to defeat even one.

Thus, "subduing them by force" remained out of reach for the foreseeable future.

That left him seeking alternative paths.

If debilitation wasn’t required... numerous possibilities emerged.

A sly smile crept across Ethan’s lips.

He eyed the still-bleeding peregrine falcon.

Next, he retrieved a flask of strong liquor from his spatial storage ring and performed a hasty, basic sterilization. Following that, he fetched some clean garments, ripped them into bandages, and bound the bird’s injuries as well as possible.

Normally, with Henry nearby, Ethan skipped keeping medical items.

For the time being, improvisation would suffice.

"Captain... this... are you certain it’ll hold?" Skinny Pete eyed the haphazard wrappings, far from convinced.

"It’ll do," Ethan replied, a bit sheepishly on the defensive. "Just needs to stem the bleeding. Its natural recovery handles the rest."

"Fine... what’s the plan now? Take it along?"

"Yes." Ethan affirmed with a nod. "Let Pebble transport it. You and me on Nugget. We’ll touch down close to Goldcrest City, station Nugget and Pebble to watch over it, then enter the compound to locate your folks."

"Sounds good."

They hoisted the peregrine falcon and placed it on Dire Eagle Pebble’s back. Afterward, Ethan and Skinny Pete mounted Golden Eagle Nugget, and they soared off once more.

The leftover journey spanned merely a bit more than two hundred miles. Within less than thirty minutes, they arrived.

Ethan directed Nugget to alight on a modest rise adjacent to Goldcrest City’s compound.

"Nugget, Pebble—look after Flint," Skinny Pete commanded, instantly dubbing the fresh peregrine falcon.

"Caw!" The pair of massive birds responded with calls.

"Time to move," Ethan stated. "No dangers lurk nearby to endanger them."

With that, the duo proceeded toward the Goldcrest City compound.

Similar to Clearford City, the walls of Goldcrest City loomed grand and formidable—roughly thirty feet tall and no less than fifteen feet wide. The summit teemed with machine guns and artillery pieces.

Such armaments posed grave risks to zombies of Tier 7 or lower.

Given that the majority of zombies lingered in that bracket, these potent weapons retained their significance presently.

Armed thus, despite much of Goldcrest City remaining zombie-infested, this zone stayed purged. No undead ventured near.

Upon arriving at the primary entrance, guards promptly halted them.

"Are you residents? What sector’s yours? When did you exit the compound?" the guard interrogated in quick succession.

"Er, we’ve just arrived," Ethan responded with a warm grin.

"Just arrived? From where exactly?"

"Clearford City."

"!!!"

"You’re joking, aren’t you?" The guard’s eyes widened. "Clearford City lies nearly a thousand miles away. How on earth did you get here?"

"Um... that’s not your concern." Ethan maintained a steady voice. "We’re genuinely from Clearford City. We require an audience with your Commander."

"The Commander doesn’t meet with just anyone on a whim. State your business first."

"This exceeds your jurisdiction," Ethan replied, his tolerance waning. "We must talk to your Commander."

"You refuse to explain, yet demand the Commander? I won’t grant entry. And I’m doubting your motives seriously."

"What, you suspect I’m here to demolish your compound?" Ethan rolled his eyes.

"You couldn’t manage that." The guard sneered. "So spill where you’re from and your purpose. Otherwise, I’ll summon the Military Police."

Ethan’s expression hardened.

"Reach your Commander," Ethan urged, striving for composure. "He’s aware of our approach already."

"We don’t waste time contacting the Commander for every passerby," the guard retorted, utterly indifferent.

Ethan’s demeanor grew icy.

Skinny Pete pulled at Ethan’s sleeve and murmured, "Captain... seems they’re angling for some ’payment.’"

Ethan understood at last.

Bribery truly operated here.

But Ethan had habitually occupied the extorting position. Being the target felt foreign.

Expect him to fork over a "toll"?

No chance.

If needed, he’d simply force his way inside.

At that moment, a different guard drew near and discreetly drew the vocal one away.

"I could’ve sworn I heard word from above to keep an eye out for arrivals from Clearford City in the coming days," he murmured. "Might these be them?"

"Doubtful," the initial guard grumbled. "It was for ’the next few days.’ How’d they arrive so promptly—unless they fly?"

"Maybe they departed sooner and the directive just trickled down now," the other suggested.

"...Could be."

"Better to report it," the second guard insisted. "Messing up a key matter would cost us dearly."

The first guard wavered, then tsked. "Alright. You handle the report."

"Will do." The second guard pivoted and dashed away.