Some people were beginning to suspect Zhang Yi wasn't ordinary. In this frozen apocalypse, everyone else was starving and numb with cold—even those who had stockpiles were suffering. Only Zhang Yi seemed to have abundance and warmth; he'd even installed a fireplace in Tianhai, a southern city where such a thing made no sense. Coupled with that reinforced security door, it was obvious he'd prepared for this scenario.
Zhou Peng curled his lip and spat in disgust. "If that's true, Zhang Yi's even more despicable. He knew this was coming and only looked out for himself—never warned the neighbors!" His grudge against Zhang Yi made him relish every chance to malign him.
Wang Min and the others fell silent; after all, when survival's at stake everyone looks out for their own family first. "What now?" they asked. "Picking the lock failed—can we just break the door down?" The men in the group—Wang Min, Zhou Peng, Sun Zhichao, Ge Jialiang—huddled and whispered, planning the forced entry.
Zhang Yi watched them on his surveillance feeds as they went down the stairs, carrying a gun in one hand and a crossbow in the other. He could've shot two of them then and there, but he wasn't in a rush—life was dull and he wanted the entertainment. He wanted to see how they'd try to breach his defenses; it would be useful practice for dealing with tougher threats later.
After a short time they returned, hauling a thick plank of wood they'd stripped from a bed. Several women stood behind them with umbrellas to shield themselves from any cold splashes. The three men hefted the timber and rammed it against the door with a thunderous "duang." The impact shook the walls—but Zhang Yi didn't flinch. Twenty centimeters of steel plating doesn't give way unless you have a wrecking crew.
Zhou Peng, Sun Zhichao and Ge Jialiang battered the door relentlessly. Zhang Yi sat on his sofa watching through the Zhanlong Security app, checking the safe house status and waiting. After a half hour of pounding—loud enough to be heard across the building—the door still held. Only a few chips in the paint, no dents. Five minutes later the attackers stood panting, incredulous.
"How thick is this door?! Even a bank vault isn't like this! Who has a door like this at home?!" they yelled.
Zhang Yi smiled to himself—satisfied his fortress worked. "Alright," he thought. "Time to teach them a lesson."
He rose, slipped his handgun into his pocket, and opened an iron case full of crossbow bolts. They looked odd—covered in deliberate rust. Alloy bolts rarely rust like that; these were intentionally corroded. Even a small puncture from such a bolt would invite tetanus.
In a world without reliable medical care, tetanus wouldn't kill immediately, but the infection would fester and rot wounds. Survivors would face amputation or excruciating death. Zhang Yi had learned this calculus from watching Chen Zhenghao—who'd survived a leg wound but would suffer terribly if infected. Grinning, Zhang Yi climbed to the peephole and took aim.
Outside, Fang Yuqing and the others clustered together beneath their umbrellas, vulnerable and bunched up—the perfect targets. Zhang Yi loosed the first bolt through the umbrella; a high, panicked scream answered. He reloaded and fired again—another agonized cry. The group scattered, screaming. Zhang Yi picked his targets deliberately, avoiding vital areas but striking arms and legs.
Of the six intruders, three were hit—one twice. The crossbow reload was slow, and the others dove into blind spots before he could pick them off. Zhang Yi shrugged inwardly; they were already marked men. Wounds from those rusty bolts would soon become a living hell. He had no intention of risking himself to finish them off—he wouldn't gamble his life for the satisfaction.
He frowned at the bolt count for a moment—he'd bought three hundred, but retrieving used, bloodied bolts wouldn't be easy. Then he opened his dimensional space, rummaged, and found alternatives: bearing balls and glass marbles, both usable in a crossbow. Metal scraps could be repurposed. Relief washed over him. "With these, I can last a lifetime," he muttered.
While Zhang Yi relaxed inside, the intruders suffered outside. Fang Yuqing's plan to swarm and loot his house had backfired spectacularly: they'd lost one man already, three had been struck, and the rest fled in shame—abandoning Lu Tao's body behind them.