Chapter Twenty-Three: The Survivor

“Roar...”

Bang! Bang!

When Fan Li knocked on the door of Apartment 602, it was as if he had opened Pandora’s box. A sudden cacophony erupted from within, followed by a frenzied pounding against the door.

Corpse mutation.

Not just one.

Fan Li tightened his grip on the katana in his hand. Even though the windows in the hallway were tightly shut, he could still feel a chill creeping outward from within—a coldness that originated deep inside. Witnessing the transformation of ordinary people into lunatics had dampened his spirits. He would have liked to vent his frustration by hacking at some zombies, but clearly, the ones inside hadn’t yet learned how to unlock a door.

Only a metal door separated him from the zombies, but since they weren’t titans—those aberrant mutants—breaking through a reinforced door with mere flesh and bone was no simple feat.

The third floor had been thoroughly explored, the fourth housed the zombie family and the slightly overweight zombie, the fifth contained the zombie dog and a firmly locked door, while the sixth was home to the deranged woman imprisoned inside and the mutated corpses of 602.

With this, his exploration from the third to the sixth floor had come to a close.

Fan Li didn’t turn back. The slow, cautious search at the beginning was simply his way of acclimating to this new environment. Now, having faced danger, witnessed the existence of mutants, and even helped Ellie take one down, Fan Li had begun to accept the reality of the apocalypse.

His plan for today was to investigate every apartment in this building.

Once he finished exploring the building, Fan Li would consider his plans for the future. The appearance of mutants gave him a sense of urgency; making preparations ahead of time was essential for survival in this chaotic world.

...

Second floor.

In old buildings like this, the lower floors were often occupied by elderly residents. The silver lining was that their doors remained original, not replaced by the newer, nearly unbreakable security doors.

He knocked, but there was no response.

Bang!

Familiar with the process, Fan Li kicked at the door of Apartment 201.

The door, held shut by a single lock, couldn’t withstand his force. After a few experiments, Fan Li noticed a subtle change—he seemed stronger than before.

“Could it be the optimization from the Monster Manual?”

Feeling the taut muscles in his leg, Fan Li knew he wasn’t just imagining things. After witnessing Ellie and the titan in action, his own slight transformation was hardly surprising.

After all, this modest increase in strength was still within the bounds of normal human capability.

The door opened.

Fan Li pushed aside his thoughts and focused on the task at hand.

A foul stench wafted from the apartment.

His gaze sharpened, locking onto the swaying shadow hanging in the living room.

It was impossible to guess the person’s age; after a week of decomposition, the corpse had become unrecognizable.

A suicide.

Compared to the deranged woman on the sixth floor, who had locked herself away in her own mind, the resident here had chosen a more drastic means of departure.

The older generation often prepared their burial clothes in advance—a sign of acceptance, a way for their children to send them off with dignity should something unexpected happen.

This corpse was dressed exactly so, clad in a green shroud embroidered with pine and deer, the stitches gleaming gold—both the material and craftsmanship were remarkable. Clearly, the garment had not come cheap.

It was hard to imagine the psychological battle the old woman must have fought in her final moments—tying the noose to the curtain rod, slipping it over her neck.

Because the corpse hung near the balcony, with the windows wide open, the breeze outside made it sway gently in midair, as if beckoning Fan Li. Even at midday, the sight sent a chill down his spine.

After a moment’s hesitation, Fan Li gave a slight bow to the corpse.

The appearance of zombies had shaken his atheism. Setting that aside, it was only right to show respect before entering another’s final resting place without permission.

The apartment was tidy, and on the coffee table in the living room lay a letter. The delicate handwriting on the envelope read: “To My Dear Child.”

Judging by the script, the elderly woman seemed well-educated.

It was clearly a letter to her child. As an outsider, Fan Li did not open it. He could only hope that, somehow, her child would have a chance to read their mother’s final words.

Even if... that chance was vanishingly small.

Fan Li did not forget his purpose here. After paying his respects to the apartment’s owner, he began searching the place, hoping to find something useful, or perhaps some food.

The room’s decor made it clear that its former occupant had cherished life. In the study, yellowed books lined the shelves, and an unfinished painting lay on the desk.

Elsewhere, porcelain and scrolls adorned the corners. Fan Li was no expert and couldn’t tell if they were genuine or counterfeit, but in these circumstances, what use was a family heirloom?

Gold is prized in turbulent times, antiques in an age of peace.

In a chaotic era, antiques are little more than ornaments.

After searching, Fan Li found some oatmeal, two unopened jars of honey, a ginseng root, a small section of deer antler, and several boxes of health supplements.

As for food, there was only half a bag of rice and some condiments. The meat and vegetables in the fridge had long since spoiled without electricity.

Fan Li placed the food by the door, then moved across the hall.

Apartment 202 was directly below his own. He had knocked several times before without response. After a few more tentative knocks, Fan Li repeated his earlier approach and entered.

The door opened.

As expected, no one was home; the residents had likely been outside when the apocalypse struck.

Since two elderly people lived there, the supplies were more plentiful. The greatest find was a full tank of gas—if he used it sparingly, it would last him a long time.

Thump, thump!

Just then, a sound came from downstairs, stopping Fan Li in his tracks. He crouched, his posture tense, like a great cat ready to pounce.

Fan Li turned his katana horizontally and tapped the floor with the back of the blade.

Thump, thump!

The sound echoed from below—a wooden stick striking the wall, perhaps. Someone was responding.

Fan Li’s eyes narrowed.

Zombies only howl and shriek; they have no interest in interacting with him. Which meant, there was a high chance the source of the