Chapter 289: Stage Two

Clack.

The final lock‑tongue snapped back.

Su Ming didn't rush to push the door; instead he tightly gripped the freshly made "mop spear" in his right hand, rested his left hand lightly on the handle, held his breath and pressed his ear to the door crack, listening for a full half minute.

Outside the door there was no sound, only the sticky liquid dripping.

Tick—tick.

After confirming there was truly no danger, Su Ming pressed his toe against the sofa base that had been half moved, inching the obstacle aside to create a gap just wide enough for one person to slip through sideways.

The door opened.

A pungent, stomach‑reversing stench rushed at him. The odor was harsher than a slaughterhouse—it was the foul smell of fresh human blood mixed with torn intestinal contents.

Even though Su Ming had been accustomed to seas of corpses and blood in his previous life, the sudden whiff still tightened his throat.

The voice‑controlled lights in the Corridor had long been broken, relying solely on the faint red light filtering in through the window at the end of the stairwell.

The once‑pale floor tiles were now a dark red, and the blood splatters on the wall radiated outward—the "masterpiece" left when a major artery is torn. As for Li Dama… or rather the heap that used to be Li Dama, it lay piled in the corner.

Aside from a still‑intact floral cotton coat, there was hardly any human shape left.

Su Ming wore a cold expression, his thick‑soled sneakers making a "squelch" as they stepped into the semi‑solid pool of blood. He didn't look at the mosaic heap; his goal was clear— the canvas bag the old woman had clutched to death.

The spear tip pried open the severed hand; Su Ming bent down and yanked the canvas bag free, tearing its zipper.

In the dim red light, the bag's contents were revealed.

Two 550‑ml bottles of mineral water, three pieces of Dove chocolate, and a bag of sliced bread.

Su Ming looked at the items and let out a very brief snicker from his throat.

This was the old woman who had been wailing at the door, claiming her grandson was about to starve and begging neighbors for a bite.

Her bag held enough provisions for an adult to survive two days, yet she still tried to con her way in, tricking Su Ming's door to seize his supply‑filled safe house.

"Impressive."

Su Ming slipped the two bottles of water into his pocket and shoved a piece of chocolate into his mouth.

The high‑calorie sweetness melted on his tongue, somewhat diluting the blood scent in his nostrils.

Humanity is thinner than paper in the apocalypse. In his previous life he was duped by this old woman; seeing her fate now, Su Ming thought only four words: a fitting death.

Just as Su Ming was about to turn and go back inside.

Creak—

The anti‑theft door opposite him opened a tiny slit.

A gap with a security chain hanging.

A young man's face pressed against the crack, his eyes darting wildly; his gaze lingered a second on the pile of shredded flesh, showing a flash of terror, then glued itself to the canvas bag Su Ming was holding.

He was the tenant opposite, named Zhao Qiang. They'd only exchanged nods, and he seemed rather refined.

"Bro... bro?"

Zhao Qiang's voice was pressed low, with a forced familiarity.

"You came out too? Damn, you scared me to death just now; that old woman screamed like a pig being slaughtered."

Su Ming ignored him, turned to leave.

"Hey! Don't go, brother!" Zhao Qiang hurried, his hand reaching through the crack and waving, "I see you're holding that old woman's stuff, right? I saw it, there's food inside."

He swallowed, greed eclipsing his fear: "The proverb says 'those who see it get a share.' That old woman never did anything, I've put up with her long enough. Since this stuff is ownerless, and our families live opposite, we should look out for each other. Split it with me... no, just give me a bottle of water, okay?"

Zhao Qiang thought his proposal was reasonable.

Everyone fears death; in times like this, more people mean more ways out. Besides, Su Ming usually keeps to himself, so he should be easy to talk to.

Su Ming halted.

He slowly turned, his eyes, blacker under the red moon, calmly staring at Zhao Qiang behind the crack.

That gaze was too strange.

No fear, no panic, not even the warmth a living person should have. It was as if he were looking at a stone, or... a corpse.

Su Ming said nothing, just holding the spear that was still dripping blood, stepping toward Zhao Qiang's doorway.

Pat— pat.

Each step landed on Zhao Qiang's heartbeat.

"Bro... brother? What are you doing?" Zhao Qiang panicked, instinctively reaching to close the door, but greed kept a sliver of hope alive, "Let's negotiate. If you think you're at a loss, I won't take it for free; I can buy it. Five hundred... a thousand?"

Su Ming reached the doorway.

No wasted words.

Swish!

In that instant, Zhao Qiang saw everything flash.

The mop shaft, bound with a Watermelon Knife, shot out like a venomous snake, a cold, sharp whoosh as it thrust through the crack!

The icy blade tip steadied about a centimeter before Zhao Qiang's nose.

A little further forward, and the knife would slide through his nostril into his brain, turning him into a bowl of tofu pudding.

Zhao Qiang's pupils contracted violently, crossing into a squint, and cold sweat splashed onto his forehead.

He even smelled the lingering blood of Li Dama on the blade.

"Get out."

Su Ming spat out a word.

The voice was low, not a hysterical roar, as flat as shooing an annoying fly.

But the murderous aura around him, the kind only forged by killing and seeing blood, poured out unreservedly, pressing Zhao Qiang so hard he could barely breathe.

"Or are you planning to go down and join her?"

At that moment Zhao Qiang finally understood: the neighbor who usually seemed honest was no soft target at all, but a wolf cloaked in human skin!

"I don't... I don't want it anymore! Brother! I also don't want it!"

Zhao Qiang let out a strange scream from fright, his whole body leaned back and fell seated on the ground, using his hands and feet to crawl backward, and immediately, as if gone mad, he slammed the door shut heavily.

Bang!

The anti-theft door's bolt clicked clack, and you could tell the person inside's hands were shaking.

Su Ming retracted his spear, not even glancing at the tightly closed door.

This kind of coward who bullies the weak and fears the strong—if you are crueler than him, he's just a petty brat; if you show even a hint of fear, he'll turn into a man-eating wild dog.

First rule of apocalypse survival: don't show your kindness to anyone—that's courting death.

Su Ming lifted the canvas bag, stepped over the blood pool on the ground, retrieved the crowbar, and was about to return to his own room.

But at that moment.

He, looking through the Corridor's window, suddenly felt that the outside color had become somewhat off.

Before, it was that dark, blood‑red, like dried blood scab. Now, that light began to become vivid and glaring, even carrying a kind of Weird rhythm.

Hum—hum—

The air outside the window seemed to be trembling.

That red light seemed alive, expanding and contracting like a giant heart beating.

Su Ming's pupils reflected that eerie light.

"The second stage...... is this starting now?"