Pushing open the iron door to the sixth floor, a wave of putrid stench hit me. Following the source of the smell, I saw swarms of flies feasting on charred, rotting flesh clinging to corpses.

Bile rose in my throat. I forced down the nausea, refusing to look longer. I hurried down the left staircase, dagger gripped tight in my hand—just like last night. I knew the stairwell zombies were cleared, but the blade’s weight offered fragile comfort.

Blackened blood smeared the stainless-steel handrails. The concrete emergency stairs were littered with debris and dried blood crusts. Spray patterns of gore on the walls testified to the man’s desperate, bloody struggle to reach the sixth floor.

By the time I reached the fifth floor, its iron door hung open. Clearly, the mother and daughter had fled. My feelings about them were tangled.

I understood why they’d done it. But I couldn’t forgive them for abandoning me at my most vulnerable moment.

Still… that kid had warned me at the last second. Without her shout, I’d never have bolted upstairs so fast. Had I taken two more steps toward the sealed iron door before realizing it was locked? I’d be dead.

For that, I owed the brat my thanks. Pity she had a mother I despised.

*Enough dwelling.* I tightened my grip on the dagger and stepped into the fifth-floor corridor. Every rustle, every shadow now set my nerves alight.

I knew this pressure would break anyone’s mind eventually. But in this merciless new world? Better to stay sharp—or jump off a building now.

My eyes swept the hallway as I leaned in.

The floor was paved with dried blood crusts. White walls were stamped with rows of bloody handprints—final struggles before the infection took hold.

Debris littered the space: discarded convenience bags, an abandoned medical cart, a white lab coat trampled with filthy footprints.

I crept forward, scanning. Nothing moved. Sunlight streamed through windows, casting a fragile warmth over this hellscape.

*Too quiet.*

Unease prickled my neck. I glanced down—a grimy glass bottle lay near my foot. I crouched, picking it up. Preserved hawthorn berries floated in crimson syrup inside.

Gritting my teeth, I braced to retreat—then hurled the bottle forward!

***CRASH!***

Glass shattered against the blood-smeared wall. Syrup splattered like fresh gore. Shards rained down.

***ROAR!***

A guttural roar erupted from behind a door to the right.

I froze. Through the glass panel, a trapped zombie slammed against the door, snarling. Its white lab coat marked it as a doctor.

*Just a caged one.* I exhaled. Ten seconds later, its fury died to whimpers. Silence reclaimed the hall.

The outdoor emergency stairs lay past that room. I turned right—then froze again.

Beyond the glass wall, the courtyard sprawled below.

***Hundreds.***

Yard after yard choked with zombies. Nothing but rotting bodies as far as the eye could see.

*How many?!*

I shook myself. *Not the time to count.* I sprinted down the corridor. Past the trapped zombie’s room, I spared one glance: just another infected doctor. Useless.

At the far end, an iron security door swayed slightly in the breeze, *creak… creak…* My eyes locked onto a candy wrapper caught in its corner.

*That’s… the wrapper from the sweets I gave little Juan.*

So they’d escaped. Good. One less burden. I hoped the kid made it to the Armed Police base alive.

Dagger raised, I pressed against the doorframe and peered through the gap.

Empty streets. Abandoned cars. Scattered newspapers. Tattered clothes. Flies swarming over corpses.

I pushed the door open slowly. No resistance. I leaned out, blade ready—

***WHIRR!***

A cloud of flies exploded upward, disturbed by the draft. I waved them off, coughing.

Beneath them lay a corpse, half-rotted. Skull and limbs stripped to bone. Fat maggots writhed in its hollow eye sockets, feasting on the last scraps of flesh.

In Huaguo, with its teeming billions, death bred death everywhere. That’s why bodies haunted every step.

I stepped over it without pause. One or two corpses barely registered anymore.

After facing seven or eight zombies head-on? My stomach had hardened. My hands no longer shook.