Chapter Thirty-Six: The Decision

This was the first time in a long while that Fan Li found himself agreeing with what Yang Shuo had said, for it resonated deeply with his own thoughts. Unconsciously, Fan Li compared himself to the burly man outside. The two of them fought in completely different styles: Fan Li, wielding a samurai sword, relied on speed to win, never dragging out what could be settled in ten seconds. The giant downstairs, however, relied on sheer force, overwhelming all with brute strength and ferocious attacks, not speed.

The zombies around them, unfazed by their companions’ deaths, continued their relentless advance. Their muscles were twisted, their eyes vacant and rolled back, blood trickling from between their teeth—driven mad by the scent of food. Another wave of attacks crashed against the giant, but he charged through, swinging a menacing, weaponized baseball bat. Blood and bone fragments flew as he sent two zombies hurtling against the wall, leaving vivid smears of fresh blood as they slid down.

The giant’s momentum did not wane. With a swing of his elbow, he shoved aside another zombie that came too close, radiating an almost savage valor. Yet, as Fan Li watched, he noticed something: the man attacked solely with his right hand. Even when surrounded, he relied on brute force to break free rather than launching a full assault. His left hand was always raised in a defensive posture, shielding a large woven bag slung across his chest—whatever was inside, it was clearly of paramount importance to him.

The fight raged on. If both parties had been human, the besiegers might have abandoned the encirclement, so terrifying was the man’s aura. But the monsters were not human; their minds were lost to slaughter, incapable of reason. The commotion in the street grew louder, drawing ever more zombies toward the chaos.

The giant below seemed to realize this as well, trying to break free from the tightening circle. An elderly zombie, unable to dodge, took a direct hit; the bat, reinforced with wire and nails, nearly split its skull open. From the time Fan Li had first heard the noise until now, over five zombies had died at the man’s hands, with countless more injured or knocked down.

“What a pity,” Yang Shuo, watching closely, couldn’t help but sigh.

Fan Li understood what he meant. No matter how powerful the bear-like man was, escaping the encirclement was impossible. Besides the dozens of zombies already in the street, more and more were converging, howling and roaring like hyenas in a hunt, each desperate for a morsel of flesh to fill their hunger. Under such a siege, the man’s fate was sealed the moment he was discovered—unless a miracle occurred, exhaustion and death awaited him.

“A miracle…” The thought echoed in Fan Li’s mind as his gaze settled on the music box he had placed in the glass cabinet.

The Apocalypse Survival Guide.

It was a plan he had written in his notebook during idle moments. To increase his chances of survival, the guide emphasized not only ample food and powerful weapons, but also the necessity of strong allies.

Yang Shuo barely counted, having shown only some lock-picking skills so far. Fan Li’s room was no sanctuary; more people meant food supplies would dwindle. As cruel as it sounded, to be called an ally, the first requirement was the ability to find food on one’s own.

Did the man below have that strength? Fan Li looked down; the man, aware of the encroaching zombies, was clearly growing weary. He was like a lion cornered, battered but unyielding, desperately searching for any chance to break through.

The Monster Handbook was Fan Li’s trump card, but he could not rely on it alone. He needed to assemble his own team, centered on himself, to increase his odds of survival—an ever-growing survival fund, much like money in peacetime.

If he could recruit that man, his safety would rise to a whole new level.

Fan Li was not arrogant. Alone, he could never save the man, but he had Ellie. He didn’t expect Ellie to clear the horde, but if she could carve out a path, the giant’s strength might secure his escape.

Resolute, Fan Li strode to the cabinet, took out the neatly folded clothes Yang Shuo had prepared that morning, and barked at the still-stunned Yang Shuo, “Bring me the samurai sword!”

“Brother Li… you’re not really going to save him, are you? There must be over a hundred zombies out there. Rushing out is suicide,” Yang Shuo stammered, disbelief in his eyes.

Despite his protests, Yang Shuo instinctively obeyed, fetching the samurai sword from the shelf and handing it over.

“Enough talk. Come with me!” This time, Fan Li did not tuck the music box into his shirt. Ellie could not remain hidden forever; in peacetime, a little girl with a mouth full of teeth would be a source of fear and panic, a living urban legend. But now, in a world overrun by man-eating monsters, keeping a small creature as a companion was hardly shocking.

One more thing: Fan Li’s authority was not yet established—he was, after all, just a young man in his early twenties.

The world had changed.

With no law left, no one could say what the outside world had become.

Fan Li had to craft his own disguise. In this apocalypse, inspiring fear was far safer than earning respect.

Put simply, Fan Li needed to make his mark—not just for the zombies outside, but for Yang Shuo and that formidable man he hoped to recruit.

Sword in hand, music box gripped tight, Fan Li ignored Yang Shuo’s repeated pleas and opened the door to the outside.

Creak… creak…

Amid the din, the winding of the music box was barely audible, but to Fan Li, it was like a celestial harmony. Even faced with hundreds of zombies, he strode forward, smiling, into the throng.

Today, Fan Li would show all who bore witness the true meaning of terror.