Wang Zongxuan swiftly raised his air gun and shot two of them dead.

Xie Ning glanced at him. "Did you modify this air gun yourself?"

’This kid’s pretty good,’ she thought. ’He’s usually quiet and reserved, not a chatterbox like that goofy Ji Taixian, but he’s incredibly meticulous. The modified air gun had obviously been improved to be quieter, too.’

"I learned a bit from Chen." Wang Zongxuan scratched his head. "Actually, I used to practice archery. I switched to air guns about a year ago."

Xie Ning nodded, making a mental note. ’When I get the chance, I’ll make a Crossbow or something similar for him.’

While they were talking, Song You’ai had already dispatched an elderly zombie with ease.

"Ningning, this is amazing!" Song You’ai said, gripping the eighty-centimeter-long Metal Knife and making a few practice swings.

Using a kitchen cleaver on zombies had been exhausting on her wrists, but not anymore.

Each strike was like slicing through tofu—effortless and perfectly smooth.

"Ningning, should we go up and have a look?"

Xie Ning grunted in agreement, just as a series of urgent shouts echoed from upstairs.

"Hey! Are you the government rescue team?"

"What took you so long?"

"Hurry up and save us! Someone’s injured up here!"

Song You’ai looked up and saw a crowd of some eighty or ninety people—men, women, young, and old—crammed by a third-floor window.

Song You’ai was speechless for a moment, then muttered, "There are hardly any zombies downstairs. Why don’t they just come down themselves?"

Xie Ning’s expression was cold, a smirk playing on her lips. "They’re waiting to be rescued, of course."

’Didn’t you hear them? The first thing they asked was if we were the government rescue team.’

"So, should we go up?"

"Let’s check the second floor first." ’She was here to find her brother, not to play the savior!’

"Alright." Song You’ai turned and called to Wang Zongxuan. "Zong Xuan, stay behind us with the gun. Watch your back."

"Got it. Don’t worry."

Xie Ning took the lead, shoving open the glass door to the building. As she did, a Metal Spike shot out and pierced the head of a zombie leaning against the entryway.

"Let’s go!"

"Ningning, doesn’t this feel strange? Why are there so few zombies in the building? Do you think it’s a trap?"

Xie Ning shot her mother an appreciative glance.

’In the apocalypse, the ones who use their heads are the ones who survive the longest.’

"I think it’s... look over there." Xie Ning pointed toward the end of the second-floor hallway, at a heavy conference room door secured with a chain and padlock.

The sounds of incessant scratching and clawing at the door came from within.

Peeking through the gap, they could see numerous sharp fingertips poking out.

"Did someone lock all the zombies in there?" Song You’ai asked in surprise. "Then what are those people waiting for? Why haven’t they run out of the building?"

"They’re waiting for a handout," Xie Ning scoffed. "Waiting for the government, for a rescue."

’In the first three months of the apocalypse, everyone had the same naive idea, including her, in her past life.’

Meanwhile, inside a bright and spotless classroom on the third floor...

A petite girl in a blue and white tracksuit frowned, her face etched with displeasure. "Aren’t those three here to rescue us?"

"Probably not. They don’t look like they’re from the army."

"Then what are we supposed to do now?"

Just then, two people walked into the classroom, one after the other, their expressions grim. "We need to leave here as soon as possible."

The speaker was a middle-aged man with dark skin and sharp, intense eyes.

His well-tailored black suit was now spattered with mottled, dark bloodstains.

"Dad, didn’t you say it would be extremely dangerous outside? If we go out there rashly, won’t we be swarmed by monsters?"