The man was utterly desperate.

He had no clue what was happening in the city—only that everyone had turned into raving madmen. Anyone who spotted him lunged to attack. Even while driving, they recklessly hurled themselves at his car, one after another. He could only watch helplessly as his perfectly good vehicle was battered into scrap.

He’d tried calling emergency services from the car, but every line was busy. Not a single police officer in sight. It felt like the whole world had abandoned him. Especially when the car finally sputtered to a halt—despair swallowed him whole.

Until… a sharp shout cut through the chaos:

“You there! Run this way! Now! We’ll cover you!”

He turned toward the voice. At the research institute’s gate stood Ling Mo and the others. Fatty was waving frantically, beckoning him over.

Like dawn breaking after endless night, that sliver of hope reignited his spirit. He spun around and sprinted toward them.

Meanwhile, Xia Xinyan scanned the area, then pointed to a nearby inn. “We go there!”

They were still far from home. Walking was too risky now—especially with a stranger to protect. A secure hideout was urgent.

This virus wasn’t zombie-grade. Choosing the inn wasn’t a bad call.

No objections. They reached the entrance. Xia Xinyan slipped inside to check safety. Ling Mo, Fatty, and Murong Yue held the door, waiting.

Over ten infected had gathered, drawn by the noise—but no more joined. Lucky. With only three defenders, holding them off would’ve been tight. Only Ling Mo carried a long gun. Fatty and Murong Yue held fire, conserving ammo until targets closed in.

Ling Mo had no such worry. Casually, he took shots from ten meters out. Dropped several. Hit rate? Over two-thirds. Fatty whistled. “Damn, you’re good.”

Thanks to his cleanup, few infected reached them. Crossfire finished the rest—smooth, no casualties. By the time the man stumbled to the inn, gasping, the street behind was clear.

He looked ready to collapse. “Th-thank you…”

“Bro, when’s the last time you worked out? Stamina’s trash,” Fatty clapped his shoulder—then jammed a pistol to his temple. “Phone. Hand it over.”

Man: “?”

“No chatter,” Murong Yue cut in. She stepped forward, frisking him with blunt efficiency—giving certain sensitive spots an extra pat.

“Found it.” She pulled out the phone, nodded. “Alright. We can kill him now.”

Man: “???”

Even Fatty winced. “Whoa. Since when are *you* the ruthless one?”

“He’s just an NPC. Why keep him?” Murong Yue shot back, eyes cold.

The man didn’t grasp “NPC,” but he knew: out of the frying pan, straight into the fire—as a hostage. His fragile hope shattered. “You… you saved me! I can pay you—”

“Money’s useless. Can’t take it to the real world,” she sneered. “Kill him. Cleaner.”

“Enough.” Ling Mo stepped between them. “Let him live. No need to be cruel.”

*Even for an NPC, that’s inhumane.*

“Wait—you’re not *keeping* him, right?” Murong Yue backed off fast. “I’m not babysitting.”

Ling Mo gave her a sidelong glance. “Never said we would.”

Xia Xinyan returned to the front desk. “Empty. Safe. We stay here today. Lock the door—we’ll be fine.”

Murong Yue eyed her oddly, then turned upstairs. “Do what you want.”

Others dispersed. Locked the main door, grabbed keys from reception, left the man behind. Only Ling Mo briefly explained the situation. What the man did next? Not his problem.

*As long as he doesn’t screw us over.*

*And if he does? One bullet solves it.*

The inn had three floors, two staircases, solid layout. Rooftops of neighboring buildings were close—multiple escape routes if breached. A solid temporary base.

Room arrangements sparked debate.

Fatty wanted all four in one room, rotating watch. Murong Yue half-agreed—but also wanted solitude. Ling Mo turned to Xia Xinyan. “Xinyan… your thoughts?”

She smiled after a pause. “How about we share a room?”

“Sure.” Ling Mo, the emotionless yes-man, added, “You two figure it out.”

Murong Yue groaned. “Seriously? It’s a *game*. No need for PDA. Wait—does this game even allow hooking up?”

Ling Mo: “…”

*—Right. First time sharing a room with Xinyan?*

*Oh no. His brain wouldn’t stop racing.*

Xia Xinyan just smiled. “The game doesn’t ban PDA, does it?”

“Fine. I’ll take my own room,” Murong Yue muttered, dropping it.

“At least check the intel first?” Fatty frowned at her. “You’ve got the phone.”

Murong Yue paused, then tossed it to Xia Xinyan. “Yours.”

Xia Xinyan took it without hesitation.

The phone looked real—no brand, no signal bar—but internet was fast. Oddities surfaced fast: searches only returned virus-related results. Blank for anything else. App store held two apps: Navigation. News.

News entry:

[Unknown Virus W: Transmission unknown. Incubation: 30 mins–24 hrs. Symptoms: Abnormally flushed skin, extreme aggression toward uninfected. Final stage: Infected physical abilities peak. They ram the first uninfected person seen after transformation—then self-detonate.]

That last line froze them.

“Detonate? *Self*-detonate?” Fatty’s face twisted. “So tomorrow… the whole city’s packed with suicide bombers?”

Ling Mo nodded slowly. “Yeah. I see the endgame now.”

If the blast radius was even modest? Far deadlier than headbutt charges.

*Now this… gets interesting.*