Chapter 82: A Weapon of One’s Own

The world at the end of days is like an abandoned supermarket, where strength is the only currency; as long as you can evade the clerks who demand your flesh and blood, you can have anything you desire.

October 8.

With October’s arrival, autumn has set in. In the north, the temperature has already dropped noticeably, and the entire cityscape is tinged with an air of desolation.

Nearly a week had passed as Fan Li finished exploring the surrounding area. His kill count had risen to 180, though regrettably, it was still less than half of what was required for a summoning.

Beyond food, they had also gathered some useful supplies: a generator, two barrels of gasoline, a chainsaw, and even a welding machine.

There was also a collection of hammers, giant wrenches, firefighting axes, and other powerful weapons. These tools, worn from slaying the undead, would eventually need replacing. Fan Li had even set aside an entire room just to store these odds and ends.

After breakfast, Yang Shuo was flipping through a magazine nearby, while Liu Hao was scribbling on paper—a list of regulations for hygiene and infection prevention taking shape under his pen. Meanwhile, Hu Huayao was in the role of doting father, helping Hu Jia wipe the leftover food from the corners of his mouth.

“Does anyone here know how to weld?” Fan Li suddenly asked, as if he’d just remembered something.

Liu Hao straightened up and shook his head. “I’ve never tried it.”

Hu Huayao shrugged as well. “When the gym was crowded, I had members from every walk of life. I even have a few master welders’ numbers in my phone, but I doubt they have time to answer calls these days.”

After some time to recover, Hu Huayao seemed to be in much better spirits, even managing the occasional dry joke.

Those so-called masters, Fan Li thought, were probably either hiding in some corner or shambling tooth and nail through the deserted streets.

Just as Fan Li was about to abandon his plans, Yang Shuo set down his magazine and walked over. “Li, I left school after middle school to go to trade school. I learned welding, though after all these years I’m a bit rusty. It won’t be pretty, but if you don’t mind how it looks, I can give it a shot.”

Fan Li was momentarily surprised to learn that Yang Shuo was something of a jack-of-all-trades. He might not be an expert at anything, but he knew a little about everything, which was already impressive.

“Come with me.”

Fan Li beckoned, and the two of them headed down to the armory.

...

“Li, do you have a blueprint?”

“No.”

“Any reference for what it should look like?”

“No.”

“So I can just do as I please?”

“It’s all up to you.”

Half an hour later.

“Are you sure you can do this?” Fan Li asked, frowning in deep doubt.

Yang Shuo was speechless, feeling the full sting of the client’s mistrust.

He approached the welding machine, sweat pouring from his brow, but still managed to slap his chest. “Don’t worry, Li. I’ll get it done this time.”

Perhaps his earlier failures had taught him something, for Yang Shuo’s technique improved with each attempt. Mistakes became fewer as the hulking object before him gradually took shape.

The raw materials were six hammerheads—iron and dense, not easy to fuse together. It took dozens of welding rods and considerable effort, but eventually, a crude form emerged.

Six hammerheads clustered together, jet-black and oddly shaped. Though heavy, the weapon exuded a menacing aura. The dense pattern of weld marks gave it an even more intimidating look.

Fan Li hefted the weapon experimentally. This custom hammer weighed over twenty pounds—ten times more than a katana. An ordinary wooden handle couldn’t bear its weight, so Fan Li found several steel rods, welded them together, and attached them to the hammerhead.

It took an entire day, but by dusk, the creation was finally complete.

The massive hammer resembled a fearsome beast lying in wait. The scattered weld marks looked like jagged fangs—touching them could easily draw blood. Let alone its sheer heft; in the hands of any ordinary person, it would be impossible to wield for long. A single blow would smash a zombie’s skull like an overripe watermelon, red and white splattered, all traces of humanity obliterated.

Fan Li lifted it and gave it a few swings, but his arms quickly grew sore, forcing him to set it down.

To put it in perspective, a household water jug weighs about thirty-five pounds, and this hammer was half that. The energy required to wield it was considerable.

Yang Shuo wiped the sweat from his brow, finally realizing that he’d spent a whole day crafting something more impressive than practical. “Li, this thing isn’t exactly useful, is it? Even Hu Huayao wouldn’t be able to swing it more than a couple of times.”

Fan Li’s gaze remained fixed on the hammer as he replied absentmindedly, “This wasn’t meant for people to use.”

“Not for people…” Yang Shuo repeated, the words sinking in. He wiped at his face, growing more serious.

“All right, you’re done here. Go get some rest,” Fan Li said with a wave of his hand.

That was exactly what Yang Shuo had been waiting for. He was afraid Fan Li might ask him to test the weapon on a nonhuman creature right there—and if the creature didn’t like it, would it vent its anger on him? In his past work, he’d dealt with all kinds of people, but never anything inhuman. Relieved to be dismissed, he quickly opened the door and slipped out.

Once Yang Shuo was gone, Fan Li began winding the music box. He’d been planning to craft a weapon for Ellie for a long time.

Swords, spears, staves—he’d considered them all. But those required skill, and the hammer was the simplest. No need to worry about angles or technique. Just remember one thing:

Smash.

Smash until nothing’s left.

As for whether she could bring the weapon back to her own realm, Fan Li had no doubt. After all, the Butcher carried a blade several meters long—far larger than the hammer.

Of course, caution made him test things first. He summoned Ellie, handed her a bag of chips. Next time he summoned her, the chips were gone, only the empty bag remained. It proved that monsters could indeed take items with them.

Just as he’d told Yang Shuo, this weapon was never meant for humans. But Ellie, being a monster, had strength far beyond any ordinary person. The weight would be nothing to her.

The music box’s cheerful chime rang out in the empty room. In a shadowed corner, Ellie appeared, clutching a crumpled bag of chips.

Every two days, Ellie would trade her empty bag for a fresh one—an agreement she’d made with Fan Li.

She took a step forward and patted the bag, her meaning clear.

There were no chips in the armory. Fan Li smiled and shook his head, hefting the hammer with effort as he approached Ellie. “Don’t always think about eating. Children need to protect their teeth. Look at the new gift I’ve made for you. Do you like it?”