Chapter Thirty-Five: The Fierce Warrior

“Roar…”
With the suppressor gone, the zombies outside stirred to life once more. Though it was only around ten in the morning, the air was thick with ceaseless, guttural howls, as if those creatures were venting the frustration of their earlier restraint.
Fan Li exercised in the corner with a dumbbell, while Yang Shuo busied himself rinsing the smoked meat, slicing it, and then stir-frying it over the gas stove.
Half an hour later, a simple meal was placed upon the table.
Aside from the solitary dish, the table was laden with an assortment of condiments they had scavenged—fermented bean curd, chili sauce, and the like. Their staple was a steaming bowl of rice.
Yang Shuo first scooped rice for Fan Li, setting it aside, and then served himself. Glancing at Fan Li, who was washing his face, he pressed the rice down firmly in his bowl, packing it as tightly as he could. Only when he could no longer fit any more did he nonchalantly place the bowl before himself, waiting for Fan Li to take his seat.
Fan Li sat down, gazing at his so-called subordinate across the table. The man seemed to have found his place, voluntarily taking charge of all the chores—washing dishes, laundry, vegetables, and cooking. Though the stir-fry was a touch overcooked, it barely made the grade.
“Eat,” Fan Li said quietly.
“Alright, Li,” Yang Shuo replied without pretense. After receiving approval, he dared to reach out with his chopsticks and place a piece of smoked meat in his bowl.
It is always people who adapt to their environment, never the other way around.
Hunger had triumphed over Yang Shuo’s fear of the apocalypse and the trauma of hauling corpses. This was his first bowl of rice since the world ended; to say he wasn’t delighted would be a lie.
Ironically, in times of peace, everyone was blinded by greed, slogging through each day. Even someone like Yang Shuo, involved in various shady dealings—rent collection, evictions, lock-picking—saw food as nothing more than a mechanical necessity. Despite this, many grew weary and irritated with life.
Yet when the apocalypse arrived, only then did he realize how precious that old life was. On this land, to speak not of a good life, but merely to survive had become a near-impossible feat.
The meal was simple. In less than ten minutes, Fan Li set down his chopsticks. Seeing this, Yang Shuo hurriedly scooped a few more bites into his mouth, then gathered their dishes and carried them to the sink.
His former lifestyle had fostered a certain blind arrogance in Yang Shuo, but he was no fool—he understood the nature of their relationship.
Initially, he had been coerced by Fan Li, but after several battles, especially the incident yesterday when Fan Li rebuked the zombies, Yang Shuo’s perception shifted dramatically, a complete reversal.

Yang Shuo knew well his current predicament—he was, to put it plainly, a dependent. Humanity is innately drawn to strength, and this holds true regardless of gender. Witnessing Fan Li’s actions, Yang Shuo felt a lingering reluctance on principle, but in terms of ability and composure, he was utterly convinced by Fan Li’s unique presence.
Moreover, the two had endured hardship together the day before. The initial resistance faded, and when he called Fan Li by name, it now carried genuine respect.
Fan Li, for his part, paid little attention to Yang Shuo’s transformation. He sat quietly, eyes closed, resting and reflecting on the events of recent days.
They had explored the entire building, and though their food supplies were ample, the wisdom of preparing for adversity demanded they not wait until resources ran dry to seek more. After a period of hiding, several zombies had drifted away, perhaps realizing that the food here no longer satisfied their hunger, and had begun to explore other areas.
The number of zombies dwindled.
There were still more than a hundred, but compared to the initial swarming hordes that turned the streets into a hellish nightmare, the situation was much improved.
The hardest step is always the first. Yesterday’s successful hunt outside gave Fan Li confidence. Yang Shuo had passed a small test, and it seemed the two could cooperate, perhaps venturing out to explore the nearby shops.
After all, the food found in each apartment was meager; only the goods in stores could truly enrich their lives.
Their greatest discovery was, without doubt, the monster manual’s ability to seal monsters.
Sealing a complete monster even allowed one to command it, but the specifics remained a mystery to Fan Li.
Even incomplete specimens proved useful.
The manual granted the host thirty seconds of a monster’s power. Though this seemed brief, Fan Li’s battles rarely lasted five minutes, sometimes barely ten seconds.
This was reality; there were no drawn-out duels as in the martial arts stories.
Whether human or zombie, once combat began, the sole aim was to kill.
Skill mattered, but stamina rarely lasted long. Thirty seconds wasn’t much, but in a life-or-death struggle, it was enough.
Life in the apocalypse was dull and monotonous, devoid of entertainment, making lethargy and sleepiness inevitable.

Yet, obesity was another obstacle to survival, and so Fan Li devised a nearly fanatical training regimen for himself.
After lunch, he rested for a while, then immersed himself again in intense exercise. Suddenly, a beast-like roar echoed from outside the window.
Fan Li’s brow furrowed. Yang Shuo, who had been hanging clothes to dry, rushed over, breathless. “Li, something’s happening outside.”
Fan Li strode quickly to the window and peered through the curtain.
In the middle of the street stood a giant of a man, clad in a football jersey, his physique imposing—though not quite a titan, he was far bulkier than most.
What astonished Fan Li was the man’s weapon: a thick baseball bat wrapped in several coils of wire, with dozens of nails hammered into the gaps.
Weapon? No, this was a brutal tool of carnage, already stained with blood and flesh, its appearance savage and menacing.
The man carried a large bag of food in his left hand—clearly another survivor driven by hunger to forage.
He also wore a massive woven sack on his chest, layered inside and out, and something squirmed within, evidently a living creature.
Nearby, the hunters went wild at the sight of food. A dozen zombies lunged at the man, desperate to subdue and devour this terrifying enemy.
But the giant in the football jersey roared like a beast, swinging his iron club and smashing the zombies’ heads with ease. Blood and brains splattered onto the pavement, as though rain had fallen.
He then leaned forward and charged, his berserk momentum knocking three zombies to the ground before they could dodge.
Fan Li watched in astonishment, while Yang Shuo, wide-eyed, exclaimed, “That’s fierce…”