Chapter Fifteen: Chaos, Part Two

The scar-faced man stepped out the door and was immediately met with chaos in the living room. Several men and a few naked women were engaged in what could only be described as a brawl, while seductive sounds echoed from the neighboring bedrooms.

"Alright, get ready for business!" the scar-faced man shouted, hoisting an axe as he exited, making his way to the downstairs lounge where he settled into a chair.

Before long, seven or eight robust young men trickled in, each laughing and joking, some still fastening their belts as they walked.

The scar-faced man barked, "All you ever think about is that one thing. Can't you have a little ambition?"

A young man grinned. "Boss, what else are we supposed to do? We're locked up in this building, nothing here but the radio. If we're not messing with women, what else is there?"

The scar-faced man didn't pursue the topic. "Grab your weapons and get ready. There's a kid outside, looks like he's got plenty of supplies."

Immediately, the group armed themselves.

He turned to one of the youths. "How many do we still have locked up?"

"Only three left," the youth replied with worry. "Damn, the authorities keep promising rescue over the radio, but there's been no movement. Boss, that big cat's appetite is growing. Three people will barely last a day, and even if we add the kid outside, two days at most. There are fewer refugees passing through lately, and food's running low."

The scar-faced man frowned. "We'll use the women first if it comes to that. The big cat seems to understand human speech more and more—maybe we can negotiate with it, get it to help us find supplies outside. If we can strike a deal, we'll be safe."

"What if we can't?" the youth asked.

"We hold out as long as we can," the scar-faced man said grimly. "If it becomes impossible, we run. Better than waiting to be eaten by the cat. Sure, the cat keeps the zombies at bay, but it's far more terrifying. If it comes to leaving, at least we'll have a fighting chance against the zombies."

The group nodded, faces tense.

They moved to the window, peering down.

"The kid's really coming," the scar-faced man observed. "Stay sharp—he doesn't look ordinary. Wandering alone outside, armed, he might be trained."

"Armed or not," another youth scoffed, "Boss, we've got three guns. No matter how tough he is, he can't beat guns."

The scar-faced man nodded, confidence in his eyes. Three days ago, a few fleeing law enforcers hid here, relying on their guns. They let their guard down, and the scar-faced man's group slaughtered them all, taking the weapons for themselves.

Still, he cautioned, "Don't underestimate him."

...

In the darkness,

Gu Sha moved forward at a leisurely pace.

A month had passed since the apocalypse descended. The energy in the world had grown denser, and many zombies had evolved—particularly their hearing. Though Gu Sha wasn't afraid of them, he preferred not to attract a swarm, so he moved cautiously.

Under the night, only the faint glow of the moon provided any light.

Suddenly, Gu Sha heard footsteps nearby—light, but unmistakably human.

He walked over, slowly.

"Young man," called a woman from a narrow alley beside a self-built building, "Come in quickly, don't linger outside. If the zombies spot you, you'll be in trouble!"

Gu Sha, a third-tier warrior, had sharp senses. Even in the dimness, he could see her clearly: a beautiful woman, around thirty, with a graceful figure but a weary air, her eyes dull.

After sizing her up, he asked, "Are there no zombies in this building?"

She nodded. "None. There's more than just me here. We hid as soon as the outbreak began, killed a few zombies, and have been sheltering here since. It's pretty safe. I'm on gate duty tonight—come in quickly. If any zombies pass by, it'll be a problem."

Gu Sha's eyes were skeptical.

Having returned from a future apocalypse, he held firmly to one rule: trust no one, not even those closest. So he didn't believe her words.

Still, he followed her inside.

He was curious. Along his route, zombies had been densely packed, but as he approached this building, they'd vanished. Burn marks scarred the area, strangely uniform, as if a fire had appeared and disappeared all at once.

The building radiated a disturbing strangeness.

The woman, oblivious to Gu Sha's suspicion, chatted as she led the way. "Young man, my name is Zhang Ya. What's yours?"

"Gu Sha."

"Gu Sha," Zhang Ya repeated. "You're young, but bold, wandering outside alone. Aren't you afraid of being spotted by zombies?"

"You have to eat," Gu Sha replied. "Don't you search for supplies?"

Zhang Ya said, "No need. We had plenty of food stocked in this building, still lots left. You can relax here—good meals, safe shelter, just wait for the authorities to rescue us. The radio says the army will soon clear out the zombies. We'll be saved!"

"Let's hope so," Gu Sha answered.

Soon,

Zhang Ya led him into a spacious lounge on the second floor, where a burly man with a scar on his face awaited.

Bright lights illuminated the room, but they'd boarded up the windows to keep any glow from attracting zombies.

The scar-faced man greeted Gu Sha warmly, rising to his feet. "Come, young man, you must be starving. Sit down, eat something, and tell me about conditions outside."

On the table lay bread and water.

Any ordinary survivor, starving after a month of hardship, would have lunged for the food.

But Gu Sha walked over calmly.

The scar-faced man reached out. "Let me take your backpack, young man. Looks heavy—you must be exhausted."

Gu Sha glanced at the bread, his pupils narrowing. "No need, I'll handle it myself."

He removed the backpack and set it on the sofa at his side, then sat down, glancing at Zhang Ya, who was swallowing hungrily. He picked up a slice of bread and offered it to her. "Here, have some."

Zhang Ya looked nervously at the scar-faced man, but hunger overcame her hesitation. Without waiting for his permission, she took the bread and devoured it in two bites.

Gu Sha smiled, handing her a few more slices.

Zhang Ya ate ravenously, heedless of decorum.

Gu Sha, ever courteous, opened a bottle of water and offered it to her. Zhang Ya gave him a grateful, complicated look before drinking, quickly finishing the bread.

The scar-faced man's expression soured. "Enough, Zhang Ya. Go rest. I need to ask the young man a few questions."

"Let her stay," Gu Sha said suddenly, gently pulling Zhang Ya back.

But Zhang Ya stumbled, nearly collapsing onto the sofa. Her complexion paled visibly, eyelids drooping, barely managing to stay awake.

Gu Sha chuckled softly, turning to the scar-faced man. "Such rapid effects—how much did you dose the bread and water?"

The scar-faced man's face darkened. He drew a silenced pistol, aiming it at Gu Sha. "I hadn't planned on trouble, but you noticed. Time to die."