As previously mentioned, Duan Heng had leveled up straight to 30+ by rigging timed explosives to destroy buildings right at the start of the Apocalypse.
But let’s be real—if you had ample prep time before the end times, why stop at just a few bombs? Stockpiling extras made perfect sense.
Beyond densely populated high-rises, Duan Heng had also planted radio-controlled explosives around his villa complex. These were easy enough to DIY from pre-Apocalypse online guides—let alone for someone with his survival experience.
*"Well, bullets and bombs count as supplies too, right?"*
...
Amidst the rubble and ruin, Duan Heng strolled leisurely through the crowd—black coat fluttering in the wind, steps exuding icy confidence that sharpened his handsome features into something dangerously cold.
A sharp-eyed man recognized his face instantly. Eyes bulging like he’d seen a monster, he screamed at the top of his lungs:
"Duan Heng! It’s *that* Duan Heng! He’s the one who—"
*Thud—*
A silenced gunshot cut off his panicked cry mid-sentence.
Duan Heng had shot him point-blank without hesitation.
"*What the—!*"
The scene froze everyone. Gasps ripped through the crowd, faces draining beyond pale. *Weren’t they* the righteous avengers? *Weren’t they* the ones ambushing him? Why were they being slaughtered like insects?
And after killing, Duan Heng wore only a faint, detached smile.
"He’s shooting us! Duan Heng’s murdering us!"
"He knew we’d come! It’s a trap!"
"We were your neighbors! How could you blow up so many people?!"
"Monster! He’s a monster! Take him down!"
*Thud-thud-thud-thud—*
Screams echoed, but Duan Heng rewarded the loudest voices with two bullets each. Skulls burst open, spraying blood and brain matter across the ground. Bodies piled up fast.
Why didn’t they flee?
His killing speed was inhuman—no time to react.
Like a professional assassin, his arm swung with lethal precision. Shots fired less than a second apart. Every bullet found its mark: headshots.
As one body dropped, the next fell before it even hit the ground.
Twenty people died in moments. The earlier explosion had thrown the crowd into chaos; many were shot before scrambling up. Half this rabble died without understanding what hit them.
Then came the simple part—ejecting the magazine, reloading, chambering a round.
Fluid movements. Ice-cold gaze.
Amidst the chaos, only the *click-clack* of the fresh magazine sliding home cut through the noise. Watching Duan Heng’s calm expression, it felt less like murder and more like assembly-line work.
"*MADMAN!!!*"
A final scream snapped the survivors into action. They scrambled away in blind terror, tripping over each other to escape.
But it was useless.
Every one of them had targeted Duan Heng—his *Danger Awareness* skill tracked their exact positions.
No hiding. Even at two hundred meters, a single bullet ended them.
"Inside! Get inside the building!"
A man behind Duan Heng—outside his line of sight—shouted desperately. Dozens scrambled through the doors, then stampeded upstairs. The complex’s seventeen-story towers were interconnected; finding anyone inside would be near impossible.
Duan Heng merely pulled out a radio detonator and pressed a button.
Then—
***BOOM!!!!***
First floor.
Second.
Third.
Fourth!
Fire swallowed the structure floor by floor, shattering every window from bottom to top. Flames consumed stairwells, incinerating everyone inside—men, women, all of them. Not even elite Zombies could survive such devastation.
Those who thought they’d escaped became charred corpses in an instant.
A man who’d nearly reached the entrance was thrown back by the blast wave. He lay on the ground, shrieking:
"Bombs! There are bombs inside too!"
"His ammo’ll run out! Rush him together!"
A smarter man yelled in desperation, hoping to rally others. Only five or six responded. One hothead charged Duan Heng directly, fiery energy swirling in his palms—a decent skill.
Useless. Below level 20, human bodies couldn’t withstand gunfire. At five meters out, Duan Heng shot him mid-stride. Two more bullets finished him as he fell.
*Thud-thud-thud—*
The "hero" died in under two seconds. Who’d dare charge after that?
The remaining five paled before they even moved. When Duan Heng glanced their way, they scattered like startled rats.
"This is insane! We can’t win!"
"We’re dead!"
"He’s a demon! A demon!"
Sobs, wails, and screams filled the air—every voice thick with despair.
In those hellish five minutes:
Some fled—shot down mid-stride.
Some hid in bushes—found and slit throat-to-throat.
Others froze completely. A forty-something man knelt like a slave, tears streaming as he begged:
"Don’t! Please! My mother—I only came for supplies for her! I—"
*Thud—*
A bullet silenced him. He collapsed, disbelief frozen on his face.
Duan Heng’s eyes glowed faintly purple. Not a flicker of emotion crossed his face. An aura of killing intent pressed down like a mountain, choking the breath from every survivor.
"No! Don’t kill me!"
A woman dropped to her knees, clutching his pants. She pressed her ample chest against his leg, tears streaking her face.
"I’m a kindergarten teacher! I teach children! I’m a good person!"
"They forced me! I never wanted to hurt you! I just—"
*Crack—*
Duan Heng pinned her head with his gun hand. His left hand drove a knife through her throat. Eyes wide with terror, she crumpled as he kicked her away.
Then—
*Thud-thud-thud-thud—*
Two shots to the head and chest. Same treatment as the rest. Kindergarten teacher? Forced or not?
*If you even think of threatening me—*
*I’ll kill saints too.*
*"Wasting supernatural energy on trash like this? Not worth it."*
*"Burn all the bodies later. Too much blood draws Zombies. I don’t have time for that."*
*"Though... I’m not exactly afraid of a Zombie Tide."*
