The road was desolate.
Because of Lam Pham's existence, it felt somewhat different from the past. With a sincere heart, he could sense it—it was the light of the righteous path.
"Doing good deeds is truly something that makes people feel satisfied."
Lam Pham smiled.
He knew that in the apocalypse, many people had undergone earth-shattering changes. They had become terrifying, but even so, no matter how frightening they became, he was not afraid.
In the face of evil, only by confronting it with courage could one overcome it. Even if he got hurt because of it, he had no regrets.
He was willing to become the bane of evil.
Let evil know—if you hurt others, you will certainly face justice.
Green light, red light.Red light.
He waited quietly.
The green light flickered. He stepped forward with light steps and moved on.
Passing by a bakery.
He glanced up at the drawn curtains on the second floor and felt that someone was there. As he walked past, from afar, he could sense someone spying on him. But he said nothing and didn't alarm them.
In the apocalypse, people's emotions were always tense. He understood that the other party likely had no trust in survivors, believing they would harm one another.
It was just like when the apocalypse first broke out. He had stood on the upper floor, watching the people below scramble—no matter how close their friendships were, in that moment, they had all become tools to survive.
He sniffed.
He could smell the aroma of fresh cake.
Hmm, looks like the person inside isn't lacking food. That's good—nothing to worry about.
To Tieu Hieu peeked through the curtain again and discovered the man had disappeared. She became anxious.
"Why can he walk so openly down the street without anything happening? I just dropped something, and it attracted zombie. Where did he go?"
She fell deep into doubt.
No way... this doesn't make sense.
Even so, she didn't care anymore. Survival was the most important thing. For now, as long as she stayed in the bakery where there was food and water, she wouldn't starve.
The outside world was too dangerous.
How she wished a group of well-trained soldiers, armed to the teeth, would march through the streets, wipe out the terrifying zombie, and rescue her from the fire. But maybe... such a scene could only exist in imagination.
Suddenly.
Pulling open the curtain, To Tieu Hieu looked outside and saw—a head appear at the window.
"Ah...!"
She nearly screamed, quickly covering her mouth. Like a startled kitten, she panicked and looked for something to grab.
A glass jar? Useless.
She kept searching. A chair? Also useless.
Still searching... finally, she found a fruit knife. Nervously gripping it, she faced Lam Pham outside the window as if to say, "Try coming closer if you dare. Even if I can't stab you, I'll stab myself, so you won't get my warm body."
Seeing the situation, Lam Pham felt like the person had some mental issues.
He smiled.
Waved his hand.
Disappeared from the window, dropped to the ground, and walked toward the cư xá.
He figured this survivor had likely been scared senseless by the apocalypse. He didn't want to get closer and frighten her more. No matter what, she needed time to decompress.
Hmm... decision made.
He would come to her window every day, smile at her once, and use kindness to warm her heart. To show her he meant no harm. That there was nothing to fear.
To Tieu Hieu quietly watched the figure disappearing down the street.
"I've been discovered."
"What should I do? There's no way I can run. He'll definitely tell the other survivors. I absolutely cannot let them catch me."
Thinking this, she hurriedly opened her laptop.
Inside, she had downloaded tons of apocalypse novels—most were female protagonist stories. Before, she'd thought such plots were ridiculous.
But now...
She opened a top-rated apocalyptic rebirth novel called Apocalypse Nirvana, where the heroine was reborn after the apocalypse, had prophetic visions, was fully prepared, and confidently handled the situation.
According to the plot, the beautiful protagonist attracted many men. She rescued tortured women, formed a team, and taught them how to survive in the apocalypse.
The story was incredibly satisfying—killing zombie from start to finish, and even killing men. In the end, there were no more zombie, no more men—only women remained.
So, a girl who only knew how to bake cakes began frantically studying survival techniques from these novels. Just in case she ran into men who had those kinds of thoughts—she'd know what to do.
One theory mentioned smearing zombie blood on the face to avoid detection. But... that was only in novels. She didn't dare try it for real.
Son Thuy Hao Vien.
A blood-splattered SUV suddenly pulled into a luxurious villa. After a brief wait, the iron gates opened, and the vehicle drove in.
In the living room—
"Big bro, something happened!"
The driver, looking panicked, rushed in. He had to look scared—his boss was twisted, fantasizing about becoming some ancient emperor, aiming to dominate and form a warlord faction, controlling a whole region.
The people inside were confused. All five had gone out—why did only one return?
Wait...
Could something have happened?
They were all wary of zombie. To be honest, even with their gear, no one dared say they could take down a fully mutated zombie unscathed.
Those things charged at the scent of blood, fast as lightning, and didn't care about weapons—just slammed into everything with terrifying force.
"What happened?" A bulky man sat on a real leather sofa, exuding pure dominance. A scar across his face added to his ferocity, projecting an overwhelming presence.
That scar? A legend in itself.
A turf war. Two big bosses met for negotiations.
He pulled out two blades, gave one to the other, and declared, "We slash each other. No dodging. Whoever survives takes the turf."
At the moment of slashing, the other guy flinched—the blade was aimed at his neck. But this man didn't budge, didn't even blink.
In the end, the other backed off and slashed his face instead.
From then on, his name echoed through Hoang city.
People called him: Phong Lang King, Vuong Đai Phu.
"Big bro, when we got to the police station to find guns, we didn't expect another survivor team hiding in the shadows, spying on us. Just as we grabbed the guns—they lured the zombie to us..."
"I told our guys to get in the car fast, but there were just too many zombie. They blocked the road. I had no choice but to drive off alone."
The driver spoke quickly. No way he was going to admit that they'd pissed off the wrong guy—treated him like a fool, but got played instead.
Truth was, when he saw the red tide of zombie rushing in, he panicked, floored the gas, and ran for his life. Forget the team—survival came first.
Vuong Đai Phu squinted, his gaze fixed on the driver.
The driver felt uneasy under that stare—it was like a starving wolf's eyes. Terrifying. He'd seen his boss smash bricks barehanded, break rocks with a single palm—he had real skill.
"So why aren't you dead?" Vuong Đai Phu's voice was dangerously low. He wasn't mad about the dead guys—he cared more about the guns. With those, he'd have true power.
Back in Hoang city, he'd done well for himself. But he never dared touch guns—they were too risky. If the government found out, even the biggest backer would have to kneel.
"Big bro, I still want to drive for you..." the driver said pitifully.
Swish!
Vuong Đai Phu stood up without a word.There were other gangs in Hoang city, and some had real skill. If they got the guns first, then his group would lose its edge.
The apocalypse had only just begun.
His plan was to clear the whole villa complex, make it a base, and expand outward.
But those zombie... were seriously terrifying.
They were far from easy to deal with.
"You damn bastard, because of you, I lost four top fighters. And yet you're the only useless one who made it back alive."
Then he waved his hand.
The henchmen nearby immediately understood the signal. They moved toward the driver, knowing full well what the boss meant — give him a good beating. If he survived, then he was tough enough. If he ended up lying unconscious, well, that was just bad luck.
The driver let out a sigh of relief.
Good… good…
He was used to being beaten. In fact, he could take a beating pretty well. He was confident he could endure it.