Only after triple-checking that not a single zombie was in sight did Ji Li raise the Window Breaker against the neighboring car’s window.
But though his stance was set, he didn’t strike.
He looked back at his Safe House, then at the neighboring car barely half a meter away, pondered a moment, pocketed the Window Breaker, and ran for the parking lot on the left side of the gate.
He still had to think about noise. If the sound drew zombies over, sure, he could retreat into his Safe House—but if the creatures “besieged” it, wouldn’t he be dead for certain?
Better to pick somewhere farther away. Caution first.
Ji Li darted to the left parking lot—and beheld a scene of devastation.
Unlike the right lot, where only a few cars had been hit, this side was clearly far more chaotic.
A sedan lay sideways across the lane, its nose crumpled against the front of an SUV, the cars behind it casualties too.
The sedan’s doors hung wide open; a pool of blood stained the ground not far away, surrounded by bloody footprints trailing all the way to the Gatehouse.
Beyond the crash this car had caused, nearly half the lot’s cars had been hit, and about a third of the spaces stood empty—no telling whether they’d been vacant to begin with or driven off.
Ji Li had seen all this through the fence earlier, so it didn’t surprise him.
He searched the cars with shattered glass first, finding a pile of tissues and throw pillows, plus a wiper blade, two first-aid kits, three hooks, and several bottles of water.
Sadly, one car’s trunk had been crumpled in the crash—a whole case of liquor, all shattered.
Ji Li didn’t drink, but he didn’t need to think hard to know that in an apocalypse, liquor would be hard currency.
He consolidated everything in a relatively clean car, then walked up to an expensive-looking luxury car and pressed the Window Breaker against it.
Crack—a crisp snap, and the glass spiderwebbed. But with the tint film holding it together, the window didn’t shatter.
Ji Li warily swept his surroundings. After several minutes of confirming it was safe, he elbowed the cracked glass inward, opened the door, climbed in, and began a carpet search.
Tissues, a lumbar pillow, sunglasses, gum, a thermos, a hanging trash bin—and in the trunk, a set of Golf Clubs, a pair of sneakers, and a tracksuit.
As expected of a luxury car. A rich haul.
Leaving everything in the trunk for now, Ji Li moved to the next car.
Two hours later, Ji Li had combed the entire left lot: sixty-eight packs of tissues, forty throw pillows, fifty-six bottles of water, eighteen pairs of sunglasses, ten blankets, twenty-four window-smashing hammers of every style, plus two thermoses, four pairs of shoes, three sets of clothes, five first-aid kits, one power bank, and six umbrellas—not to mention odds and ends like bandages, pens, and air fresheners.
The more special finds were the Golf Clubs and camping gear: a two-person tent, two camping chairs, a storage bin, a large camping wagon, and a full camp tableware set—cups, bowls, forks, spoons, the works—plus a portable gas stove.
Just no food.
Not surprising. Food left in a car attracts ants and Rats—neither hygienic nor safe.
He did find a case of fruit, but it had all rotted; the smell the moment he popped the trunk nearly made him think a zombie was hiding inside.
He couldn’t take all these supplies—his palm-sized territory couldn’t hold them—but things like the Window Breaker and sunglasses were no loss to leave behind, while tissues and water were necessities. Only an idiot would toss those.
And that set of Golf Clubs—such a huge bag, heavy as sin, but absolutely could not be abandoned.
With titanium alloy that hard, bashing zombie skulls would be like playing whack-a-mole.
And the gasoline in all these tanks—if he could siphon it out, that was vital supplies too.
In the end, Ji Li decided to haul everything to the right lot first and use it up gradually, figuring out how to take it along when the time came to leave.
Twisting open a bottle of mineral water, Ji Li dragged the camping wagon toward his Safe House, drinking as he walked.
Passing the Gatehouse, he glanced at the two zombies thrashing inside, and a little lightbulb lit above his head.
No food in the cars—but maybe there’s some in the Gatehouse!
Only two zombies, and they’re trapped inside. Handle it carefully, and they won’t be hard to deal with!
No sooner thought than done.
Ji Li drew out a Golf Club, tested its weight, and circled the Gatehouse once.
This Gatehouse looked bigger than the one at the school gate, roughly rectangular, short side facing the gate, long side facing the road, with one window on each side and the door opening toward the right parking lot.
And most surprising of all—the back half of this Gatehouse was a public restroom!
The restroom faced the parking lot, and for convenience, the section with the sinks had no door or wall—so at a glance you could see two toilet doors side by side, gender signs printed on them.
And it was even a wet-dry separated bathroom!
Ji Li’s teeth itched with fury.
Why can’t I switch Safe Houses?! This crappy game is doomed, I swear!
Cursing under his breath, he twisted the faucet—water was cut. He noted the wall-mounted hand soap and the bucket under the sink on his mental supplies list, then turned toward the windows.
No wonder those two windows had felt so counterintuitive—the short-side window ran nearly the whole wall, while the long-side window was much narrower and set near the edge. Because there was a restroom in back.
Thinking this, Ji Li peered through the short-side window to check the interior, to see whether there really was food inside, so he wouldn’t waste the trip.
One look, and he made up his mind. Do it.
In that single glance he’d spotted a water dispenser, a High-Powered Flashlight, and a rubber baton. Whether or not he could take it all—who could resist seeing that?
He HAD to raid it!
And there was a small inner room in the Gatehouse, hidden from this angle. Maybe there was good stuff inside?
Ji Li went around to the long-side window, pressed himself against the glass, and strained to peer into the inner room—but the moment his hands put weight on it, the window slid open!
Ji Li’s heart lurched. He hastily shoved it shut with a clack, drawing both zombies to hurl themselves at the window, pouncing and gnawing.
Thankfully, zombies were dim-witted and only knew how to push forward; they wouldn’t force the window open anytime soon.
Relieved, Ji Li pulled out his phone, opened the System, went into sound settings, and set a ringtone looping.
Both zombies were instantly drawn to the ringtone, shambling claw-first toward the sound as Ji Li lured them all the way to the door.
He set the phone on the ground and let them batter the door, then returned to the long-side window, gripped his club, and quietly slid the window open.
The ringtone perfectly covered the sound of the window. Neither zombie turned its head.
Ji Li stepped back two paces, raised the club, and gave a few practice swings to get the feel. Prepared, he drew a deep breath, took aim at the aluminum window frame, and hammered away with a clang.
That racket was far louder than any ringtone. Both zombies wheeled instantly, racing over, tripping over each other to be first.
Ji Li locked eyes on them, took aim at the first one as it lunged out the window, and swung from below upward with everything he had!
Thanks to the hand-eye coordination honed by years of sports and gaming, Ji Li landed a critical hit on the first strike.
The Golf Club’s titanium alloy lived up to its reputation—with that hardness, one blow caved in the zombie’s skull.
Black blood sprayed, and a white, tofu-pudding-like substance welled from the cracks. Ji Li’s stomach heaved at the sight.
But he had no time for delicacy. The zombie, half its head caved in, was still swaying forward to lunge—Ji Li clenched his teeth and delivered another skull-crushing blow!
Only when most of its head had split apart did the zombie finally collapse, pinned beneath the second one, which now took its own turn testing its head against the hardness of Ji Li’s club.
The result held no suspense. Both zombies lost their heads, and neither was in any position to mock the other.
It was over. Ji Li leaned on his club, staring at the two zombies draped over the windowsill, at the black and white matter seeping from their heads. After a long moment—
“BLEURGH—!”
Done puking, Ji Li shut off the ringtone, dragged the zombies out by their clothes, tossed them aside, then disdainfully slid the window wide and climbed into the Gatehouse from the other side.
Inside, aside from two chairs knocked over, everything was intact—it just smelled awful.
Ji Li didn’t rush to loot. He entered the inner room first and found it was the guards’ changing room and break room.
The room’s walls were formed of six metal lockers; a single cot sat against the wall, with two cardboard boxes stacked underneath.
Ji Li dragged the boxes out, took one look, and nearly howled at the sky with excitement.
One box held five packs of instant noodles, an opened pack of ham sausages, and four braised eggs. The other held an electric heater and a riot helmet—who knew why those two things were stored together.
But either way—good stuff!
Eyes shining, Ji Li picked up a pack of instant noodles, tears of gratitude instantly streaming—from the corners of his mouth.
Starving as he was, stomach collapsed against his spine, he still suppressed the urge to gorge on the spot and turned to the metal lockers.
Before long, all six cabinets hung wide open—some stuffed to bursting, some empty except for a security uniform.
Ji Li emptied and sorted them one by one, coming away with four security uniforms, two jackets, two pairs of jeans, a backpack, two wrinkled army greatcoats, a quilt stiff as dried salted vegetable, a pillow blotched with yellow stains, plus three lighters, a carton of cigarettes, a Folding Knife, and a canister of tea leaves.
Ji Li packed everything except the clothes and bedding into the backpack, then eyed the pile and fretted.
These clothes weren’t like the ones from the cars—those had been washed, or were jackets temporarily shed or thrown on against temperature swings, hardly dirty at all.
The locker clothes were another matter—especially that quilt and pillow. No way to wash them, yet a shame to toss.
Then there was the metal folding cot against the wall.
The bed was tiny, visibly under a meter wide, creaking at the slightest shake—but it was a bed! With a sponge mattress on top, and he could even stretch his legs out.
If that Suit Guy had been even half a decent human being, none of this would be lacking a place to go!
The more Ji Li thought about it, the angrier he got, silently vowing to settle accounts with the Suit Guy!
For now, though, it all had to stay piled in the Gatehouse. He’d figure something out later.
He wondered—if he attached a trailer to the car, would that count as part of the Safe House? Or a roof rack?
Mulling over how to expand his Safe House’s capacity, Ji Li turned the outer room upside down, finding a pile of office supplies—pens, scissors, a stapler, folders, and the like.
More than these nice-to-haves, Ji Li ached to carry off the desk under the short-side window, plus the chairs, the metal lockers, the trash bin, the broom and dustpan, the water dispenser…
The more he looked, the more his heart bled, and the deeper his hatred for the Suit Guy grew.
What was done was done. Switching Safe Houses was off the table, but the Gatehouse could at least store his scavenged supplies.
It had never once crossed Ji Li’s mind to live here. One, the Safe House felt safer; two, he worried it would be hard to go from comfort back to austerity—better to adapt early to the sedan’s cramped space than suffer a psychological collapse later.
Ji Li righted the fallen chairs, unloaded the camping wagon’s goods into the corner, made another trip to the left parking lot to ferry over the rest, and only then, dragging the box of food, several bottles of water, and the camping gear, returned to beside his Safe House.
Now it was time to use the skill!
Ji Li eyed the camping wagon, rubbing his palms together, pondering exactly how to duplicate.
From the moment he’d learned the skill could only be used twice a day, he’d resolved to save the uses for duplicating good things.
After searching half a parking lot and the Gatehouse, there was no question what to duplicate: food, his scarcest resource right now.
But duplicating a single pack of instant noodles?
That would be underestimating a college student born in the information explosion era, weaned on countless web novels.
Ji Li set the food box on the open ground, snickering wickedly as he closed the box back up, then placed both hands on it and, in the tone of someone summoning Pikachu, declared with full confidence:
“Copy!”
