Before leaving, An Xia slept soundly.
An Jingtian lay in the room, his condition noticeably improved. If nothing unexpected happened, he would wake soon.
Lin An dragged several zombie corpses to the entrance to mask any lingering human scent, then barricaded the door with miscellaneous furniture. Only then did a sense of relief wash over him.
Across the street, he sensed movement. A survivor was watching from a neighboring apartment. Through the peephole, the man assumed Lin An hadn't noticed him.
Lin An didn't bother hiding. Calmly, he lifted a severed zombie head and crushed it in one hand—easily, like popping a water balloon. The skull shattered, fragments scattering across the ground.
"Ah!"
A scream echoed from the other building. A door slammed and locked. Lin An smiled. Simple intimidation worked.
The repaired iron gate could hold ordinary zombies, but it couldn't stop humans. In a post-apocalyptic world, he had seen the worst of human nature: people killing for food, betraying loved ones, even devouring their own children. As long as An Xia and Jingtian were safe, Lin An had no qualms about blood on his hands. He even considered eliminating other residents in the building if they posed a threat—but only if necessary.
Inside, the siblings were secure. Food and water stocked for a month. Reinforced doors could hold off zombies. Even without him, they could survive for some time. All supplies had been meticulously prepared by Lin An before the apocalypse—military-grade rations, weapons, medicine. Enough for three people to survive for five years. He just hoped the delivery logistics had succeeded after his coma.
With this, he could have built a small safe zone early on. Survival in a doomsday scenario demanded more than skill—it required preparation, resources, and a foothold of power. Lin An sighed. Being unconscious for three days had disrupted his plans, and rare equipment he remembered from his previous life still eluded him. But it wasn't too late to recover.
At the Heyuan Community gate, Lin An had already devised his next steps.
The first six days: search for special supplies and equipment while leveling up by killing mutants. He had to bide his time—strength couldn't be rushed.
The last three days: eliminate the Stitcher.
First target: Xingyi Flower Shop. On the city outskirts, it was known to house rare "psychic plants."
Psychic plants were game-changing. They existed as plants, fruits, or food and granted permanent attribute bonuses when consumed. For ordinary survivors, leveling up was slow—one attribute per level. Psychic food, however, produced exponential strength gains. Those lucky enough to find them often dominated regions.
But their window of availability was narrow—typically disappearing within a month of the apocalypse. Lin An had learned about this from the doomsday game's chat channel. Unlike typical games, the chat required energy and physical effort, consuming precious food. Most players, struggling for survival, could only watch the powerful share information.
Missing this opportunity now meant difficulty later.
"Eye of Judgment!"
Golden light flashed in his pupils as he activated the skill. Data streamed into his mind. No immediate danger. Zombies: 678. Survivors: 122. Only ten percent remained in this once-thousand-person community. The brutality of the end of the world was clear.
Step one: find a motorcycle. The journey to the city was long, and walking would waste time and energy. Cars were unreliable—few could withstand even a minor zombie encounter. A nimble motorcycle was ideal. Later, an armored vehicle could become a mobile fortress.
Outside, hundreds of zombies roamed the entrance, gorging on corpses until only bones remained. Hundreds more wandered aimlessly, occasionally raising their heads in ear-piercing roars. Lin An seized the opening.
Ahead lay a black motorcycle, overturned, key in place. A gnawed skeleton beside it hinted at the previous owner. Lin An sprang into action.
The Nepalese machete in his hand, half an arm long, whistled through the air. The first two zombies fell cleanly, split in half. The swarm reacted instantly. Rotting arms grabbed for him.
A side kick, a twist of his body beyond human speed. Bones cracked. Flesh flew. Golden energy surged as he swung, slicing through the next group effortlessly. Seven heads fell at once.
On the third-floor window, a bearded man stared, mouth agape. Shock painted his face—what he witnessed seemed unreal, like a scene from fiction. Who was this? A hermit master? An ancient warrior?
He had survived the apocalypse weekend by hiding in his apartment, starving after consuming his last instant noodles. He had seen the man ride a motorcycle through zombies the previous night and immediately abandoned any attempt to escape.
Now, seeing Lin An's horrifying prowess, hope stirred. He rushed to open the window, shouting, desperate to be noticed, unaware Lin An had already sped away.
"Brother! My name is Liu Shiming! I live in Building 3, Unit 2, Room 302!"