After a moment’s thought, I murmured “Amitabha” toward the deceased before turning away. After all… she was neither a Zombie nor among the living. To me, she was merely someone who once existed. Yet her corpse had offered me a sliver of help—hinting that survivors might still linger in this neighborhood.

Truthfully, I’d suspected as much before entering. This villa district featured standalone homes with high walls. If residents locked their gates when the virus hit, each villa could become a survival haven. The walls kept most Zombies at bay. Crucially, scarce food meant Mutant Monsters rarely ventured here. Compared to the outside world, this place was a safety haven.

I continued along the wall. The path stayed clear until I neared the gate, where two gatekeeper Zombies in uniforms wandered aimlessly. Two Zombies weren’t a major threat. Frequent activation of my “Super State” had sharpened my dynamic vision—I could now track movements that once seemed too fast.

*Looks like I’ll have to take a risk…*

Even with the ability to kill Zombies easily, I avoided provoking them. One bite could trap me. Individually weak, their collective danger made them best left alone.

I spotted a pebble on the ground. Crouched behind a decorative tree—its summer foliage hiding me—I tossed the stone into the grass.

*Thud.*

The soft, odd sound made the nearest gatekeeper Zombie snap its head toward the noise. It shuffled slowly toward the pebble, its scarlet eyes fixed on the spot, dazed.

*Now!!*

I lunged from the bushes, military knife flashing from my chest holster!

The Zombie’s head twisted ninety degrees toward me—

“Die!!”

I towered over it, driving the blade deep into its forehead!

*Thwack!*

The second gatekeeper Zombie roared in the distance, charging. I kicked the twitching corpse aside, switched the knife to my left hand, and drew my Samurai Sword with a *shink!* One downward slash split the charging Zombie’s skull.

*Thud.*

I leaped back. The corpse collapsed at my feet, spraying black, yellow, and white ooze that nearly hit my boots.

“Disgusting…”

I shook the slime off both blades, wiped them thoroughly on the corpses, then plunged the Samurai Sword into the grass. Pulling out a wet wipe, I cleaned the military knife first before storing it, then repeated the process for the sword. Their putrid brain fluid was unbearable—and these weapons were my lifeline. Better to maintain them well.

Scanning the area, I spotted three Zombies sprinting from the small park. I unslung my crossbow, aimed through the red dot sight, and took them down one by one.

“Should be clear now…”

Zombie noises attracted others—I’d confirmed that earlier. Those three must’ve heard the commotion.

“Next time… I’ll just use the Great Black Eagle.”

I retrieved the bolts from the corpses, wiping each carefully before reloading my quiver. At the gatehouse, I grasped the doorknob—only to find it locked.

Frowning, I searched the gatekeeper Zombies’ pockets for keys. Knife in right hand, key in left, I turned it slowly.

*Click… click… clack.*

I cracked the door open a sliver and jumped back two steps.

*Silence.*

After five seconds, I edged closer, pressing against the doorframe. With my knife, I nudged the metal door wider.

*Creeeak…*

Still no sound. Only a rotting stench seeped out. I exhaled, but kept my knife raised as I peered inside.

Paranoia wasn’t unwarranted—I’d made too many mistakes before. Those two abnormal Mutant Monsters proved this Apocalypse hid dangers beyond the obvious.

Inside, a tilted TV faced the door. A wall-mounted fan sat atop it. Further in lay a single iron bed—and on the pillow, a pair of feet.

*A lying-down Zombie?*

I wasn’t afraid of stationary ones. I tapped the door again. Yes—definitely feet on the bed.

Gritting my teeth, I slipped inside. On the bed lay… a corpse. Not a Zombie. A suicide. A fruit knife buried to the hilt in its chest confirmed it.

I shut the door firmly—*bang!*—trapping the stench inside. Flies swarmed the decaying body. I yanked open the window, grabbed a dusty rag from the sill, and shook it violently.

*BUZZZZZZ—*

As the flies scattered, the corpse came into view: a man in a shirt and suit pants. His face had rotted beyond recognition, but his thirties-era attire suggested his age. His right arm dangled near the window; his left clutched the knife in his chest.

Beneath his right hand, a small notebook caught my eye. Dust and dried blood coated its cover. I brushed it off and moved to the window seat—too grimy to sit on, but I barely noticed. Flipping it open, I found diary entries.

Early pages recorded mundane details: weather, daily routines. I skimmed faster until—

“Got it!”

The final entry read:

*August 11th. Overcast skies. Three days trapped in this gatehouse. I’ve prayed endlessly for the military’s arrival… but no word comes. Those two monsters guarding the gate—they haven’t left in three days either. I… can’t hold on. If anyone finds my body and this journal later… please don’t mock my cowardice…*

I read the words aloud. The neat, unconnected handwriting hinted at a disciplined man. Below it, five characters: *Yu Deshui… Final Words.*

I flipped back three days—to the day everything changed for me.

*August 8th. Scorching heat, cloudless sky. Sunday. My boss invited me to discuss work at his villa. Halfway there, I saw a madman attacking people. Then—the unthinkable. The bitten victim suddenly leaped up and attacked others. Chaos erupted instantly…*

I kept reading, desperate to understand what truly happened that day.