“Uh—” Zhuang Han shuddered all over, his pupils dilating as the color drained from his face. The axe in his hand clanged heavily to the ground, startling the few people behind him so violently that they jumped back in shock.
Immediately, Zhuang Han seemed to lose all strength. His legs buckled, and he fell backward into the mud with a splash of murky water. Seeing this, the group behind him dared not linger; like frightened birds, they scattered in all directions, rolling and scrambling as they fled, terrified that a single delay would lead them to the same fate as Zhuang Han.
In the blink of an eye, the dozen or so people who had been outside the courtyard were gone, leaving only Zhuang Han sprawled in the mud.
Rainwater ran down his cheeks, mixing with his snot and tears, leaving him utterly bedraggled. He lay in the mud, trembling violently, stammering for mercy: “Spare me, spare me! Great hero, spare my life! I won’t do it again! I’ll never dare to disturb you again!”
His voice was choked with tears and laced with fear, making him both pitiable and ridiculous.
Jiang Feng held the dagger at his throat, his tone cold and authoritative. “Go.”
One word—short and powerful—yet imbued with an unmistakable pressure that brooked no argument.
Zhuang Han felt as though he had received a royal pardon. Not daring to hesitate, he scrambled out of the mud, leaving his dropped axe behind, and stumbled away into the distance, disappearing quickly into the curtain of rain.
The dagger slowly flew back into Jiang Feng’s hand. He shook off the water droplets and turned to walk back into the villa alongside Zhou Yu.
The heavy courtyard gate closed behind them, shielding them from the rain and the chaos outside.
Cheng Lin and Jiang Xuan hurried to meet them. Seeing them safe, their tension eased slightly. The Westerner dog gathered again in front of the living room sofa.
The warm, yellow light illuminated everyone’s faces but could not dispel the heaviness in the air.
Cheng Lin looked at the now-empty courtyard on the surveillance screen, frowning. She whispered, “How did they get into the villa area?”
The residential community’s security system was fairly complete. The main gate was closed, with perimeter walls in place. By rights, this group of refugees should not have been able to break in so easily.
Jiang Feng leaned against the sofa, his fingers tapping lightly on his knees, eyes deep with thought. “Our villa is close to the community entrance. We were probably the first in the area they targeted.”
He paused, his voice carrying gravity. “We have ability users to intimidate them. But what about the others in the villa?”
There were many other residents in the community—some unarmed ordinary people, some perhaps with awakened abilities, but not necessarily strong enough to handle this group of ruthless refugees.
Under the apocalypse, human hearts were unpredictable. Disaster brought survival crises and eroded the moral compass of many.
Today, they had been lucky to intimidate the refugees. But what about tomorrow? The day after? No one knew who—or what—would come next.
The rain had battered the villa for twenty consecutive days and nights, drumming against the glass with a crackling intensity, as if trying to tear the house apart.
Cheng Lin curled up on the recliner, her fingertips unconsciously touching the icy glass, her gaze piercing the rain toward thoughts of Uncle Si.
Although she had warned Uncle Si before the apocalypse to consider moving back to the villa area, the sudden loss of the internet left her uncertain whether he was inside the villa.
Uncle Si lived with only his son. Aunt Si had passed away from illness years ago, leaving Uncle Si to raise Si Jia alone. The Cheng and Si families were close; Uncle Si had watched her grow up. When her parents traveled far away, she had practically been raised at the Si household.
Si Jia, three years older, had always protected her. When neighborhood boys bullied her as a child, Si Jia rolled up his sleeves to defend her. On rainy school days, he shielded her with his own body, carrying her home.
And Uncle Si had been a constant source of help over the years, countless acts of care.
If the two father and son were now trapped in that villa, and the refugees who had breached the outer villa were targeting houses at the back…
Cheng Lin could not bear to think further. She stood abruptly, turning to Jiang Feng, Jiang Xuan, and Zhou Yu, who were cleaning their weapons on the sofa.
“Jiang Feng, I want to check on Uncle Si’s villa at the back. Will you come with me?”
At her words, all three looked up, exchanging a glance without hesitation. Jiang Feng strapped the cleaned fire axe to his waist and stood. “Let’s go.”
Jiang Xuan and Zhou Yu immediately rose, quickly picking up the steel pipe and machete leaning against the wall.
The Westerner dog wore a thick raincoat, which partially shielded against the wind and rain but severely limited visibility. The wind, at least level three, whipped large raindrops into their faces and bodies, sending sharp pain through them. The muddy ground made each step a struggle. The raincoat flapped violently in the wind, and ahead, buildings appeared only as blurry shapes.
A distance normally covered in minutes now seemed endless. Mud soaked their pant legs, icy rain ran down their necks, freezing them to the bone. After a full ten minutes, Uncle Si’s villa finally appeared at the end of their sight.
The courtyard gate was closed, but the house doors seemed ajar, faint light leaking through the curtain gaps, accompanied by indistinct voices.
Cheng Lin’s heart sank; someone had indeed broken in.
Jiang Feng signaled for silence. They crouched low, carefully hiding in the shadows of the courtyard walls. The vantage point was good—clear view of the gate and house doors—without being easily spotted.
“I’ll knock to draw their attention,” Jiang Xuan whispered, volunteering. Agile and quick, she was best suited for the task.
Jiang Feng nodded, gripping his fire axe, his gaze sharp as an eagle. Cheng Lin and Zhou Yu tightened their grip on their weapons, ready to rush in at a moment’s notice.
Jiang Xuan took a deep breath and approached the villa gate, lightly tapping on it.
“Knock, knock, knock.”
The knocks were not loud, but in the silence of the storm, they rang clearly.
Almost immediately, a rough male voice yelled from inside, laced with impatience and violence: “What are you knocking for! Are you trying to get yourself killed, idiot!”
Then another voice chimed in, with a hint of flattery: “Big brother, don’t be angry. Maybe it’s just some careless zombie that bumped into the door.”