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They had all heard the voice of God when the world changed. They had all seen the strange messages flash before their eyes, items materializing out of nowhere. The "Novice Staff," the "System Interface" — these were real.
Tiger exhaled slowly, his eyes narrowing at Ethan. For the first time, he understood. This man wasn't just lucky. He was dangerous — smart enough to read the new world's rules before anyone else, and bold enough to use them.
He's walking the line between genius and madness, Tiger thought. But in this world… maybe that's what survival really means.
Just as everyone was lost in their thoughts after the earlier fight, a tall, heavyset man with a kind yet simple face walked in, his boots leaving dusty prints across the wooden floor. He spoke in a slightly nervous tone, "Boss Tiger, the food is ready."
Tiger nodded slowly, then turned toward Ethan with a welcoming grin. "Ethan, it's been a long, hard day on the road for you and your people. Come, let's share a meal. You're my guests tonight."
A faint smile crossed Ethan's face. "Much appreciated, Boss Tiger," he said calmly, though his sharp eyes flicked toward the shadows near the door—always calculating, never relaxed, not even at a dinner table.
Tiger clapped his hands twice. The door slid open, and a beautiful woman wearing a fitted cheongsam stepped inside, carrying trays of steaming food. Despite the apocalyptic world outside, she looked stunning—her graceful figure framed by the dim light, her makeup subtle yet elegant, her black hair neatly tied back. The sight felt like a memory from a lost age, fragile and unreal.
She placed the dishes carefully on the table.
The aroma that followed stunned Ethan's group for a moment. On one side of the long table were the dishes meant for the six men—Ethan, Luke, William, Tiger, Lei Chen, and Chen Yan. A platter of white-cut chicken, gleaming with oil and salt, sat at the center. Beside it were stir-fried vegetables—rare and precious now—sautéed mollusks, and even chicken legs cooked with chili and garlic, the smell making one's stomach twist with hunger. Big bowls of rice steamed gently, and a basket of soft white buns completed the spread.
It was a feast—one that no one had seen since the old world burned.
Outside in the yard, however, it was a very different picture.
Grace, Julia, Olivia, Leah, and the rest of the women sat around chipped metal bowls. Their food was nothing more than a thin corn gruel—a sour, watery mixture with a few grains of rice floating in it and wilted vegetables for color. The contrast was sharp, and it bit deep into the heart.
Leah, ever fiery and outspoken, scooped up a spoonful of the gruel and took a sip. The moment it touched her tongue, her face twisted. "Ugh!" she spat it out immediately, the sour stench making her gag. "What is this? Is this what they call food? Are they feeding us like animals?"
Ever since she was saved by Ethan, Leah has never had to starve. Although the food was not as good as it was before the end of the world, there was no shortage of white rice and instant noodles.
Julia and the others hesitated, but one by one, they tasted the gruel—and couldn't stomach it either. It was bitter and rancid, the flavor of decay and hopelessness.
Before they could speak further, a group of thin, dirt-covered children peeked from behind the wooden fence nearby. Their eyes were hollow, their faces streaked with dust, lips cracked and dry. The moment Leah spat out the gruel, the children scurried forward, picking up the spilled food from the ground with trembling hands.
The kids picked the vegetables up from the floor, wiped them on their clothes, and then put them into their mouths.
[T/N: Not a very nice imagery :( Regrettably, this is the reality in numerous parts of the world the same world that has billionaires residing]
A little boy with wide, innocent eyes looked up at Leah. His clothes were tattered, his ribs visible beneath his skin. "Beautiful big sister," he said softly, voice hoarse from hunger, "if you don't want this… can you give it to us? We're so hungry."
Leah's anger melted instantly. Her heart clenched at the sight. Without hesitation, she reached into her coat and pulled out a small packet of biscuits—just a light snack for her. "How can you eat that slop?" she said, pressing it into his tiny hands. "Here. Take this."
The boy's face lit up as if he had been handed a miracle. "Thank you, big sister! Thank you!" he said, then ran off, clutching the biscuits like treasure.
But his gratitude drew attention.
Soon, more children appeared—eight, ten, maybe more—eyes wide, hands outstretched.
"Beautiful big sister! Please give me something too!"
"Big sister, we're hungry! Please, just a bite!"
"Good sister, you're kind, please—anything to eat!"
The sound of their pleading was heartbreaking. Leah froze for a moment, her lips trembling. Then she sighed and emptied all her pockets—biscuits, a few candies, even her last energy bar. She handed them out one by one. Julia, Grace, and Olivia followed her lead, giving away the few snacks they carried. Even the gruel bowls were passed to the children, who devoured every drop as though afraid it would vanish.
As the kids ate, Grace's calm emerald eyes softened with sorrow. The contrast was unbearable—the feast inside, the hunger outside. These children had no future; they were barely clinging to the present.
Leah clenched her fists. "This is an outrage," she said under her breath, voice trembling with restrained fury. "How can anyone let children starve like this? What kind of leader sits and feasts while they—"
"Enough," Olivia snapped, fear flashing in her eyes. "Leah, watch your tongue! We're on Tiger's turf. Do you want to die tonight?"
Leah's anger flared but died just as quickly. She knew Olivia was right. She bit her lip hard and stayed quiet, though her eyes still burned with fury.
The laughter from inside the house carried out through the window. Ethan's voice mingled with Tiger's—calm, polite, detached. But his gaze, hidden behind that faint smile, was cold and calculating. He noticed everything—the difference in treatment, the behavior of Tiger's men, the way the women were placed outside like servants.
He said nothing for now, but in his mind, plans were already forming.
Outside, the children finished the gruel, licking the bowls clean before scurrying off toward the outer courtyard. Their small feet splashed in puddles of dirty rainwater.
Then, a harsh voice shouted.
A man in a stained uniform stepped out from behind a post—one of Tiger's militants. He carried a Type 81 rifle slung over his shoulder, its metal glinting dully under the cloudy sky. He looked like he hadn't bathed in weeks, eyes bloodshot, teeth yellow.
"What do we have here?" he barked, kicking one of the kids hard in the ribs. The boy fell, crying out in pain as candies and biscuits scattered across the ground.
The militant sneered. "Well, well… biscuits, lollipops? You've done well for yourselves, little rats." He laughed, the sound cruel and hollow. "Now, hand it all over—or I'll break your legs."
The other children froze, terrified. They hesitated for a second before slowly taking out the remaining biscuits from their pockets, their small hands trembling.
The man collected the food greedily, stuffing it into his pockets and grinning like a vulture. "Good," he said coldly. "Now, get lost before I decide to use you as target practice."
As the children scattered into the shadows, Leah, who had witnessed the scene from afar, felt her entire body tremble with rage. Grace placed a hand gently on her arm, whispering, "Don't. Not now."
Leah swallowed hard. Her beautiful face twisted with pain.
The former police officer, Sydney, could no longer hold her rage in. Her patience, built from years of discipline, snapped like brittle glass. She stood up, her chair scraping the dirt, and shouted at the militant, her voice trembling with fury.
"How can there still be people like you in this world? Taking food from children—have you no shame left in your soul?!"
The militant's bloodshot eyes raked over Sydney's figure, lingering on her ample chest with a lecherous leer that made her skin crawl. His unshaven face split into a cruel, toothy grin, his filthy boots crunching gravel as he stepped closer. "Well, look at this big-titted cow," he sneered, his voice dripping with vile mockery.
"How's a soft little thing like you got the balls to meddle in my business? Those kids' scraps ain't your concern, sweetheart."
He slapped his thigh, letting out a guttural, ugly laugh. "Tell you what—play nice with Daddy's gun here," he said, patting his hard dick, "and I might toss their food back. Consider it payment for a night with a whore like you!" His eyes glinted with perverse delight, tongue flicking across cracked lips.
Sydney's body shook with rage, her face flushing crimson. "You filthy bastard!" she shouted, her voice cracking. "You're a shameless, disgusting pigmerken! You've got no humanity left!"
Her curses felt clumsy, raw, the words of someone unpracticed in venom but burning with fury.
Sydney received a good education, and with her career, she never needed to curse anyone.
The militant chuckled, low and mocking, his gaze crawling over her again. "Oh, you bark loud for a pampered bitch," he taunted, tapping his rifle against his shoulder. "Keep yapping, and Daddy'll have to bend you over and spank that pretty ass raw till you learn respect." He winked, his grin vile enough to churn her stomach.
"How can there still be scum like you in this world?" Sydney spat, her voice trembling with defiance. "Stealing food from children—where's your soul?"
"Soul?" He snorted, spitting into the dirt. "Don't need one when I got this." He hefted his rifle, then turned lazily, his laughter echoing like a hyena's as he sauntered off, leaving Sydney fuming in the courtyard's dust.