Chapter Seventy-Nine: Survive

Noon.

“This thing doesn’t need to be washed, just take it out and eat it. What? It’s not clean? Don’t you have any common sense? Who knows how long the water tank in the corridor will last. If you waste water like this, we’ll die of thirst, do you understand?”

“You think there’s still bottled water? Bottled water doesn’t just appear out of nowhere, does it? Do you think it’ll fly right to you?”

“Enough, stop fussing. Go sit over there. Leave these things to me. And you call yourself a graduate from a top university.”

A complaining voice drifted from the room, and Liu Hao, feeling scorned, sat heavily on the sofa, lost in thought.

When did someone who used to curse nonstop, with tattooed arms, boasting of countless street fights, become so adept at household chores?

The room, already cluttered with various items, was now packed with people. Yang Shuo was tidying up in the dining area, skillfully plating the food.

Hu Huayao sat nearby, reading aloud from some children’s books salvaged during their search to Hu Jia. The little one seemed well adapted to everything, mainly because she was only two and a half and couldn’t climb to the window to see the hellish landscape outside.

Earlier, when they went exploring, Hu Huayao had fed the child half a sleeping pill—a desperate measure, but one that shielded her from the horrors of the apocalypse.

Liu Hao, meanwhile, slumped on the sofa, pondering his life, as a gang member questioned his medical expertise—a blow to his pride.

As for Fan Li, he sat at a chair with a notebook before him, seemingly jotting something down.

Fan Li always kept notes: food, monsters, weapons—anything notable would get its own dedicated page. His desk was strictly off-limits; no one was allowed near, and all unnecessary items were removed, leaving only two things: a katana wrapped in white cloth and a strangely shaped music box.

The music box was familiar to the group. Whenever they touched it, their expressions grew complicated, for the decorative dolls atop it were identical to the monsters they’d encountered.

Though the group and Ellie were old acquaintances, the difference between humans and monsters remained stark. Fan Li had no desire to see his hard-won team reduced to a pile of bones with a single careless turn.

Thus, the music box was kept at home but was more often carried close at hand.

As the master, Fan Li himself needed time to forge bonds with Ellie; for Yang Shuo and the others, ordinary people in Ellie’s eyes, they were merely food—little more than snacks.

Fan Li paused his writing, flipping through his notebook page by page, reading line by line.

“Katana: a replica, forged from reinforced steel, but prolonged use against zombies causes wear, dulling the blade and producing cracks and fissures. Recommend acquiring new weapons during searches.”

“After slaying a zombie family and a zombie dog, the blade showed no obvious dullness; the material is sturdier than expected.”

“Encountered a Nightmare. Pierced its body with the katana, and for the first time, blood seeped into the blade. The edge seemed to absorb blood—no, perhaps monster blood nourishes the weapon.”

“The previous bite marks on the blade have faded, but after repair, they’re no longer the color of steel, but resemble dried blood—monster blood and the blade are further merging.”

“Encountered a Splitter. Severed its foot and head with the katana, blood again flowed into the blade. The once gleaming surface now bears a faint red tint, and up close, there’s a pungent, fishy smell (blood).”

Confirmed: When slaying monsters, the katana undergoes a kind of transformation; its damage can be partially repaired with monster blood. As it absorbs blood, it is also altered, becoming sharper than before.

After noting the last few lines about the katana, Fan Li picked up his fountain pen and added one more sentence:

“Consider further strengthening with more monster blood!”

“Alright, time to eat!”

Fan Li had just finished writing and closed his notebook when Yang Shuo’s voice came from the side.

The table was set.

Opened cans of beef, scattered spicy snacks, orchid beans, and drunken peanuts. In front of each person was a hot pot meal in a different flavor.

These hot pots required no gas to boil—larger than instant noodles, you simply unpack them, pour cold water onto the quicklime at the bottom to generate heat, and soon you have a steaming meal.

Such food was considered high-end, costing dozens of yuan per box, sold only at large supermarkets.

Their latest expedition had yielded plenty of provisions. Even divided among the group, each person could last about a month. With surplus rations, Yang Shuo suggested they each contribute their own food and hold a dinner party. Fan Li, not completely cold-hearted, agreed—it seemed sensible.

Now, the group sat around the dining table. Compared to Fan Li’s former days of tasting dog food alone, savoring solitude, there were now five in the house, including Hu Jia—a livelier scene than before.

If not for the handgun on the table and the occasional wailing outside, this could have been mistaken for an ordinary dinner party.

Yang Shuo finished tidying up, came to the table, stood and poured Fan Li a glass of beer, then said, “Brother Li, say a few words to us.”

Fan Li took the glass, gazing around. Yang Shuo held his beer, looking expectant. Liu Hao, just having popped a hot fish ball into his mouth, flailed his tongue and hurriedly swallowed. Hu Huayao, in a white short-sleeved shirt, gently placed a piece of corn into Hu Jia’s bowl, then looked up, watching Fan Li.

Liu Hao regarded Fan Li as a beacon in his tragic life, but for Yang Shuo and Hu Huayao, he was no less a light to them.

Without Fan Li, Yang Shuo would eventually starve, either dying at home or being chased and devoured by zombies while searching for food outside. Hu Huayao’s plight was even worse—not only would he die, but his beloved daughter would perish with him.

Moreover, Fan Li possessed formidable strength and calm when slaying zombies, as well as the power to command monsters, making him the undisputed leader of their small group.

Everyone waited for Fan Li to speak—perhaps some summaries or future plans. Regardless, they were bound together, and for this leader they’d chosen, they were wholeheartedly convinced.

Fan Li raised his glass, met the gazes gathered upon him, and let a faint smile curl his lips. He said, “Stay alive.”

The group paused, as if some thought struck them all at once. Their expressions grew complicated.

In peaceful times, without disease, this would be the easiest challenge. But now, zombies and mutants lurked everywhere; their presence had dimmed humanity’s glory, threatening its extinction at any moment.

If they were alone, they might have already collapsed. But now, united by a common cause, though danger surrounded them, their hearts were steadier than before.

Without hesitation, they all stood and clinked glasses with Fan Li, faces full of hope for the future, voices together:

“Stay alive!”