Thuong Sinh backed away from the window, his spine pressing against the cold, unyielding wall. He closed his eyes for a second, then snapped them open.
The images from moments ago replayed in his mind: the iron gate rattling under the claws of the undead, the faces blanched with terror, and the desperate crowd huddled in a confined space.
That gate… it wouldn't hold.
If besieged long enough, or if something stronger appeared, it would eventually buckle. In the apocalypse, a large crowd didn't mean safety. It only meant more variables, more panic, and more death.
His gaze instinctively drifted back toward the opposite dorm. Amidst the chaos, he saw her. Thanh Dao. Still the same, standing at an angle to shield others even as she trembled herself. Something tightened in his chest—a familiar, foolish emotion.
Thuong Sinh clenched his fist until his nails bit into his palm. He turned away. In the endtimes, emotion was the ultimate luxury. To survive, one could not afford a soft heart.
He scavenged the dormitory canteen, finding a storage room. Luckily, it was stocked with enough canned food and water to last him a month—if he remained alone.
He began gathering supplies. He left the rest behind, indifferent; he didn't plan on staying long. He had to get home to find his father, mother, and brother. He had tried calling, but the lines were dead. The silence on the other end gnawed at him. He couldn't linger here.
As he pushed the door open to leave, a voice made him freeze.
"Thuong Sinh? Is that you?"
He turned. Standing before him was a face he wouldn't forget even if it were burnt to ashes. Trieu Duong. He was tall, buzz-cut, with that same aggressive glint in his eyes. His clothes were stained with dried blood and his lip was bruised, but his arrogance was intact.
Trieu Duong burst into a loud, mocking laugh. "Ha! Damn, I thought you kicked the bucket yesterday!"
Thuong Sinh looked at him, his expression chillingly calm. Ignoring the cold reception, Trieu Duong strode forward and threw an arm over Thuong Sinh's shoulder as if they were lifelong brothers. "Impressive. You're like a cockroach, hard to kill."
Thuong Sinh shifted his weight, slipping out of the grasp. Trieu Duong didn't seem to care; he turned and shouted down the hall. "Hey! Look who we found!"
Footsteps approached. Several familiar faces—the same ones who had participated in his beating the day before—emerged. Behind them walked Tran Pham. He looked more composed than the rest, his eyes skimming over Thuong Sinh before settling into a polite, practiced smile.
"It's good to see you're okay," Tran Pham said smoothly. "With the chaos yesterday, we all feared the worst."
His voice was warm, his gaze sincere. Anyone else might have believed him. But Thuong Sinh remembered the cold eyes watching him bleed yesterday. He knew exactly who had pulled the strings.
Trieu Duong's eyes locked onto the backpack on Thuong Sinh's shoulders. He frowned, reaching for it. Thuong Sinh stepped back, avoiding him.
Trieu Duong's face instantly darkened. "What's this? We're friends, aren't we? That bag looks pretty heavy. Lots of loot in there, huh?"
"It's not for the group," Thuong Sinh said.
Four words. Enough to shatter the fake atmosphere. The air turned heavy. In the back, Tran Pham watched silently, a flicker of calculation crossing his eyes before vanishing beneath his mask of calm.
Thuong Sinh glanced past them. For a fleeting second, his eyes met Thanh Dao's. Then, without a word or a second look, he turned and walked away.
"The world's ended! You'll die in a day on your own! Join us!" Trieu Duong barked after him.
Tran Pham stepped forward, his tone more reasonable. "He's right. In times like these, there's safety in numbers."
Thuong Sinh didn't look back. His stride was steady, treating their words like wind against a mountain.
"That damn bastard..." Trieu Duong hissed, clenching his fists to give chase. Tran Pham reached out, stopping him with a slight shake of his head.
"In times like these," Tran Pham whispered, a thin smile playing on his lips, "people like him always come crawling back eventually."
Thuong Sinh returned to his room. As the door closed, the noise of the world was replaced by a heavy silence.
He checked his supplies: canned food, water, flashlight, cleaver. Not much, but enough for now. He barricaded the door with his desk and chairs, securing them with wire before collapsing onto the bed. He wasn't tired; he was calculating.
"I can't stay here..."
Zombies would multiply, but humans were worse. In the apocalypse, a human heart was more unpredictable than a rotting corpse. "I have to leave the campus."
But not yet. He needed more power first.
He sat cross-legged and began his Source Breath Cultivation. The familiar energy rose within him. Outside, the sounds of dragging feet and dry scratching echoed occasionally, but inside, his mind became a still lake.
Night fell again.
[ Thuong Sinh ]
[ Cultivation ]: 20/100
[ Realm ]: Body Refinement (Early Stage)
[ Merit Points ]: 115
His body felt reinforced, denser than before. Just as he stood up to grab a meal, he heard it.
Thud... thud...
Footsteps in the hall.
Thuong Sinh froze. His hand moved slowly to the hilt of the knife at his waist.
"This is the room, right?" a whisper drifted through the door.
Rattle.
The doorknob turned violently. When it didn't budge, the voice dropped its polite facade. "Hey, Thuong Sinh. I know you're in there. Open up."
Thuong Sinh didn't answer. He moved to the side of the door, his back against the wall, breathing so shallow it was non-existent.
"Don't play dead," Trieu Duong sneered from the other side. "We all saw that fat backpack you were hauling earlier."
Another voice chimed in: "The group is out of food. We have injured people. Without supplies, they won't last."
BAM! A heavy fist slammed against the wood.
"Give us a share. Consider it your contribution to the group. Otherwise... we'll just have to take it ourselves."
Inside the room, Thuong Sinh narrowed his eyes. He had expected this. He looked at the backpack on the bed, then at the thin, wooden door.