July 17, Tuesday.
Ruan Ning got up from bed and walked to the window. She pulled aside the curtain to look outside—the sky was darker than usual, and the street was completely deserted.
She followed her original plan: after breakfast, she began her training. Just after finishing a round of knife practice and about to enter her space to hydrate and rest, an unusual, continuous pounding and faint growling caught her attention.
She immediately held her breath, silently moving to the living room window. Through the gaps of the metal grille and heavy curtains, she carefully looked down.
The street was in chaos. Abandoned vehicles lay scattered, and trash and debris were everywhere. Under the blood-red sky, several figures staggered about.
Their movements were stiff and twisted, steps dragging; some wore torn clothes stained with dark red.
Their skin was a dead gray color, eyes murky and lifeless, mouths twisted to reveal teeth stained with unknown blood and flesh, emitting meaningless “ho ho” sounds.
Zombies!
They wandered aimlessly. One seemed attracted to a parked car with its door open, repeatedly banging its head against the window with dull thuds.
Another lay on the ground, apparently gnawing on something—looking like a human arm.
Further away, a piercing scream and glass breaking came suddenly from a residential building, then silence again, leaving more staggering figures drawn there.
It was the fourth day since the apocalypse broke out. Zombies had finally begun appearing en masse on the streets.
Because hospitals admitted many patients, they were the first to fall, and from these centers, zombies rapidly spread outward.
The world did not restore order as many had hoped but instead plunged into chaos.
The true test of survival was just beginning.
Ruan Ning quietly observed the hellish scene below, expressionless except for a flicker of cold steel in her eyes.
She knew soon this city—and indeed the whole world—would become a hunting ground for these walking corpses.
And she was ready to take the first step out of her safe house.
Lin Jiaojiao, Lin Wanyun… and that selfish father of hers.
She looked forward to seeing what despair would befall those who lost the initiative and lacked the backing of the space in such a hopeless apocalypse.
She withdrew her gaze, drew the curtains tightly, cutting off the bloodshed and growls outside completely.
Turning toward the space entrance, she prepared for one final adjustment—then it would be time to take the initiative.
In the evening, Ruan Ning decided to go downstairs to the neighborhood to fight zombies, gaining practical combat experience.
She stood behind the door and gave her gear a final check.
Dressed in black, durable tactical clothes, military boots on her feet, anti-cut gloves on her hands.
A gleaming machete slung across her back, a heavy fire axe at her waist, and a military combat knife tucked into her calf strap.
Her lightweight backpack held only a small amount of high-calorie food, a bottle of water diluted with some spring water from the space, and some first aid supplies.
She took a deep breath, feeling the power surging inside her from the spirit spring’s nourishment. Her gaze was calm and steady.
“Click.”
The heavy security door was gently pushed open just a crack.
A strong, indescribable stench immediately hit her face!
The smell of rotting flesh, excrement, and some indescribable fishy stench mixed, enough to upset anyone’s stomach without preparation.
Ruan Ning frowned slightly but did not hesitate. She slipped out swiftly and gently closed and locked the door behind her.
The hallway was empty, only emergency lights casting a ghastly green glow, illuminating several shocking dried blood handprints on the wall.
The elevator had stopped. Ruan Ning walked briskly down from the 13th floor, carrying her knives.
She stepped lightly, moving down like a stealthy cat, highly focused, ears catching every subtle sound.
At the corner between the third and second floors, she stopped.
In the stairwell, a figure faced away from her, mechanically banging its head against the fire door, making dull “thud… thud…” sounds.
It wore a security guard uniform; half its cheek was missing, exposing white bones and wriggling maggots; its exposed skin was a corpse-like bluish-gray.
A zombie.
Ruan Ning gripped her machete tightly; the cold handle steadied her nerves.
She didn’t strike immediately but observed carefully.
Confirming no other zombies nearby, she assessed the zombie’s banging frequency and reaction speed.
Her memories from her past life and these three days of observation had given her a basic understanding of early zombies: slow-moving, relying on hearing and smell, with heads as the weak point.
Now!
She suddenly pushed off the ground with her foot. Her enhanced body exploded with incredible speed; in three steps, she dashed down the stairs with almost no sound.
When she closed in within two or three meters behind the zombie, it seemed to sense a living presence, stopped banging, stiffened, and tried to turn.
Too slow!
Ruan Ning’s eyes sharpened. Power surged from her waist and abdomen to her arms. The machete cut through the dim air in a chilling arc, aiming precisely at the zombie’s neck with a slanting chop!
Thunk!
The blade’s dull, sticky cut through the rotting flesh was tougher than expected. But her strength far exceeded normal. The powerful blow sliced through more than half the neck!
Dark red, foul-smelling viscous blood sprayed like a ruptured water balloon, splattering the wall and her tactical clothes.
The zombie froze instantly; its head tilted at a grotesque angle, barely connected by flesh. The body wobbled.
But it didn’t fall completely. Its cloudy eyes turned toward Ruan Ning; the rotten arm lifted, still trying to scratch.
Without hesitation, she flipped her wrist, pulled back the machete, and delivered a horizontal slash!
This time, aiming at the skull!
Crack!
With the crisp sound of skull fracturing, the blade sank deep. The zombie’s last movement ceased completely; the body fell like rotten wood with a thud, and dark blood spread quickly on the floor.
A stronger stench filled the air.
Ruan Ning quickly stepped back two paces, avoiding the blood pool, her chest rising and falling—not from fatigue but from the physical and mental shock of personally ending a once-human life.
Her hands were steady; her eyes remained cold.
Feeling the warmth flowing faster inside her from the recent burst, she confirmed she wasn’t injured or splattered with blood near her mouth, nose, or eyes.
She stepped forward, flipped the corpse over with her foot to confirm it was motionless, then wiped the dirty blade on a relatively clean patch of floor.
“Strength is enough, but technique and precision still need improvement,” she assessed calmly. “Handling a single slow zombie isn’t a problem, but facing multiple or faster ones requires efficiency—one strike, one kill.”
She didn’t leave immediately but stood there, calming her breathing and more alertly sensing her surroundings.
This was only the beginning. Her first bloodstained practice on the road to revenge and survival.