Chapter 33: Winter Training

Chapter 33: Chapter 33: Winter Training

Winter was long. As for exactly how long, Xu Mo didn’t have a clear concept—at least, not for winter in this world.

In this dead, silent world covered by ice and snow, time itself seemed to lose all meaning. ℯℯ𝑙.

Ever since a great snowstorm that lasted three days and three nights heralded the official arrival of deep winter, Xu Mo’s life had quietly slipped by in a daily cycle of cultivation, vigilance, and the occasional, necessary expedition outside.

One morning, as Xu Mo made another mark on the calendar he used to track his supplies, he was startled to realize that a full two months had passed since he first saw snowflakes.

These two months, a period when the extreme cold made the outside world relatively "safe," had also become a golden age for Xu Mo’s personal strength to advance by leaps and bounds. He utilized this rare window of tranquility to the absolute fullest.

After expending a massive amount of ammunition, Xu Mo’s marksmanship had long since surpassed the beginner level. Now, hitting a stationary target within 200 meters with his AK-47 was a near certainty, and he had a high hit rate on moving targets within 100 meters.

He could also quick-draw and accurately hit targets within a hundred-odd meters with his TT-33 pistol. His greatest achievement, however, came from the AWM sniper rifle.

Through repeated practice and the accumulation of ballistic data, Xu Mo now had a fairly reliable hit rate on stationary targets at 800 meters. He had even begun to challenge longer distances and calculate for windage.

Xu Mo felt his shooting skills had transitioned from a "learning and exploration" phase to one of "maintenance and fine-tuning." Daily practice now only required a small amount of ammunition to maintain his feel for the weapons, no longer needing the kind of high-consumption basic training he did at the start.

Wind speed, humidity, gravity... these terms, once only seen in books and videos, had now become part of Xu Mo’s subconscious. The expenditure of over 1,500 rounds of .338 Lapua Magnum ammunition had not only familiarized him with every shot from his AWM, but had also seared the ballistic data for various distances into his mind like a brand.

As for the Thirteen Grand Protectors’ Cross Training, this technique was the unshakable core of Xu Mo’s daily routine. Compared to two months ago, his body had undergone a complete transformation. His previously well-proportioned physique was now reshaped by layers of clearly defined muscle.

This wasn’t the bulky mass chiseled out in a gym, but a toughness akin to an alloy tempered a thousand times, every inch brimming with astonishing energy. The long-term application of medicinal oils and nourishment of his qi and blood had given his skin a healthy bronze tone, which glinted with an almost metallic sheen in the firelight.

Xu Mo felt his skin and membranes had become denser and tougher. An ordinary splinter or sharp stone scraping against him would often leave only a shallow white mark that vanished in moments. A full-force blow from a solid wooden stick to muscular areas like his torso, arms, or thighs would, at most, leave only slight redness and swelling that would dissipate in an extremely short time.

However, this was still not the "Cowhide Realm" described in the Cultivation Technique Mantra.

The signs his grand-uncle had boasted about with spittle flying—"skin so dense it can resist ordinary scratches, bites, and clubs," and "skin turning yellow and coarse like old cowhide when circulating energy"—had not yet clearly manifested.

It was true that ordinary clubs could barely cause him any real harm now, but a forceful slash from a sharp fruit knife could still break his skin, though the cut would be much shallower than a normal person’s. As for whether he could completely withstand the virus- and filth-laden scratches and bites of a zombie, Xu Mo didn’t dare, nor had he ever thought to try. He wasn’t that stupid, after all.

’I’ve improved this much and still haven’t officially crossed the threshold of the First Realm?’ Xu Mo would occasionally pause his training, marveling at the difficulty of this ancient technique. His reverence and imagination for the subsequent "Iron Bone Realm" and even the "Golden Body Realm" only grew.

However, Xu Mo wasn’t discouraged. On the contrary, he was filled with even greater anticipation. Recently, especially after performing extreme Posture Stance or high-intensity resistance to impact training, he could always catch a wondrous, fleeting premonition.

It was a feeling of being filled to bursting, as if every cell in his body was saturated to its limit with pure energy. Beneath his skin, a scorching, condensed power surged and crashed, as if yearning for a complete and total eruption.

Xu Mo felt he was just one final push, one opportunity away from breaking through and stepping into a whole new world.

’Not long now...’ Each time he slowly withdrew from that extreme state, feeling the power still surging relentlessly within him, Xu Mo would repeat this to himself, his eyes firm with resolve.

This improvement in strength was, naturally, also reflected in his equipment.

The Bone-Cutting Knife he initially used for self-defense had been honorably discharged, relegated to being a kitchen tool for processing ingredients and chopping bones in the shelter. In its place was a Mountain-Cutting Saber forged from high-quality steel, nearly eighty centimeters long. The blade was wide and thick, its spine featuring sturdy anti-slip serrations, and its edge was polished to a cold, arcing glint. Whether for cleaving through zombie bones or clearing a path through the wilderness, its effectiveness far surpassed the old Bone-Cutting Knife.

In addition, a Triangular Military Dagger now rested on the weapon rack, its menacing shape gleaming with a faint blue, cold light. Its three blood grooves and quenched tip emanated a chill born purely for killing.

Using his "door" ability, Xu Mo had conducted several targeted equipment upgrades for himself over the past two months.

He had acquired a military-grade bulletproof vest and several ceramic armor plates. At a critical moment, this gear could withstand direct hits from most rifle rounds—it was a real lifesaver. Over this heavy-duty vest, Xu Mo would usually wear a light and flexible stab-proof suit, forming a dual layer of protection against high-velocity projectiles and sharp claws.

Based on his usage habits and a desire for reliability, Xu Mo had also added another AK-47 of the same model as a backup primary weapon, along with a classic pump-action shotgun. The latter could unleash devastating firepower in an instant during close-quarters combat indoors, for clearing rooms, or against threats suddenly breaking through a door. Combined with his existing AWM sniper rifle and his well-used TT-33 pistol, his personal arsenal now formed a complete fire support system covering long, medium, and close ranges, as well as indoor assault and breaching.

Thanks to the significant strength increase from the Thirteen Grand Protectors’ Cross Training, during his most recent opening of the "Ammunition Storage," Xu Mo managed to haul an unprecedented amount of supplies in the precious sixty seconds. He not only restocked a full basic load of ammunition for all his firearms but also acquired two crates each of flashbangs, smoke grenades, and stun grenades. The addition of this special ordnance made his tactical options much more varied and flexible, giving him more ways to create chaos, cover a retreat, or assault a fortified position.

The comprehensive improvement of his physical fitness was what surprised Xu Mo the most over these two months, and it was the most fundamental source of his confidence in survival.

The benefits from the Thirteen Grand Protectors’ Cross Training were comprehensive and profound. Now, even when in a state of maximum alert—wearing the vest with its heavy armor plates, a stab-proof suit over it, a tactical backpack loaded with three days of rations, a first-aid kit, basic tools, and extra ammo, and holding a fully loaded AK-47 assault rifle—he could still maintain a continuous high-speed run.

This "high speed" wasn’t a hundred-meter dash, but a sustained sprint at a pace far exceeding a normal person’s limit for cross-country running. Moreover, Xu Mo could maintain this state for nearly thirty minutes without rest. This wasn’t just a sign of powerful cardiopulmonary function, but a testament to the all-around improvement of his muscular endurance, bone strength, and metabolic efficiency.

This level of physical fitness would have been absolutely top-tier back in Xu Mo’s original world before he transmigrated. His abundant, almost freakish, stamina meant a higher chance of survival, greater tactical mobility, more leeway to handle danger, and stronger confidence.

Over the two months, his daily routine had solidified into a precise, almost rigid, schedule:

At dawn, Xu Mo would wake in the faint light of the dying embers in the stove. After breakfast, he would first practice Pile Training for two hours.

The morning was the core time for the Thirteen Grand Protectors’ Cross Training—slapping his entire body with medicinal oil, weighted squats and sprints, and various other physical exertions that pushed beyond human limits.

The afternoon was for firearm "maintenance" practice and at least an hour of Cold Weapons training, practicing slashes and thrusts to ensure muscle memory.

The evening was relatively relaxed. Xu Mo would study the books he had scavenged, mainly on emergency wound treatment, wilderness survival guides, and a few volumes of the Chinese Herbal Medicine Canon, which he had high hopes for but only half-understood. Alternatively, he would meticulously maintain each piece of his equipment and plan the target for his next "door opening."

For now, he was not short on food or fuel. The small "Welcome" diner served as his stable logistics base, while the "food" for his stove came from the doors, windows, and furniture of nearby abandoned houses.

Occasionally, Xu Mo would use the observation point on the third floor that wasn’t completely sealed off. With the high-powered scope on his AWM or his military-grade binoculars, he would carefully scan the town and the snow-covered landscape beyond, over and over again.

As far as the eye could see, there was only a vast expanse of white. The heavy snow, like a giant shroud, covered all the ruins, streets, and traces of the past, concealing any potential signs of life or danger. The entire world seemed to have truly died in that great snowstorm.

Xu Mo saw no more signs of zombie activity, nor did he detect any signals of other human presence—no cooking smoke, no reflections, no footprints.

This ruin, eternally sealed by ice and snow, felt like his own lonely kingdom—safe, yet boundlessly empty.

Sometimes, late at night, with only the CRACKLE of the fire for company, Xu Mo would find his thoughts drifting back to the night of the zombies’ strange westward exodus. He would remember the dense bullet holes on the walls he’d seen during his explorations, the crude barricades, and the small, curled-up skeleton beside the school bus.

What kind of disaster had this world truly experienced? What was the truth behind this apocalypse? Beyond the town, on this vast land, were there other survivors like him? By what more brutal, or perhaps more fortunate, means were they struggling to survive?

These questions, like seeds buried beneath the ice, lay dormant in Xu Mo’s heart.