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墨書 Inktalez
"What kind of person!" A sharp shout echoed throughout the Starry Sky Trading Post, the only place in Deep City where Survivors could still live with dignity.
Thanks to excellent soundproofing and odor removal facilities, along with ample food and supplies, the most crucial factor was the walls—some of the strongest built since the Post-Apocalypse. Ordinary Zombies could not breach this sanctuary; only those formidable Zombies at Third Stage or above had the strength to enter Starry Sky Trading Post.
Unfortunately, most of these powerful Zombies were not in this area. Their roaming grounds were closer to the coastal regions, which were the main battlegrounds of Deep City.
The Zombies did engage in combat, but not amongst themselves. Their greatest enemies were the Sea Overlords lurking in the vast ocean and the increasingly fierce fish.
The shout had nearly made An Xiaolu's heart leap out of his chest. Though he wasn't completely terrified, he was close. Before him stood a sea of faces; people filled the elevator, every floor, and every compartment. Even in the corners of the lobby, humans had managed to survive.
Once upon a time, they would often welcome Survivors into this refuge with smiles on their faces. But over time, those smiles had turned into numbness. They never expected that humanity's survival instinct resembled that of cockroaches; despite such widespread devastation, so many still lived on. No one was willing to support others anymore; survival rights could only be earned through struggle and sacrifice.
Most filial sons had perished; those who remained typically had strong fathers or beautiful mothers.
Those women were perhaps the only ones still using Post-Apocalypse cosmetics. They adorned themselves carefully and sold their beauty for high prices. Ordinary women? They had to fight outside for their lives while also returning to entertain "guests" to extend their own existence.
Many people had become accustomed to their desired lifestyles over two years. The dying would exchange all their possessions for one last thrill before quietly leaving the shelter. They sought out Zombies or took one final gamble; if they survived, they might return with a bounty of supplies and enjoy a life fit for royalty once more. If they failed, there would be no coming back.
Now, a strange girl appeared here, which felt somewhat out of place. In this survival-of-the-fittest environment, cowards had already perished. Survivors gathered together, aware that others still clung to life elsewhere, but everyone had some level of interaction—except for this girl before him, who was unfamiliar and far too clean, reminiscent of those women selling meat on the top floor.
In this entire building, they felt safest because all men needed them. They didn't have to hunt outside; although they couldn't enjoy fine food or supplies, they could at least stay warm and fed.
However, compared to this Girl before him, it was like night and day. She was obviously well-cleaned; while cleanliness wasn't overly precious in this apocalypse, few would waste water meant for bathing. She must have squandered enough water for dozens of people for a week. The faint fragrance wafting from her was unmistakably that of Orchid Perfume—the most renowned scent in the Post-Apocalypse—and her clothes bore not a single stain. If it weren't for her lack of a bag slung over her shoulder, she might as well have been one of those wealthy patrons visiting Starry Sky Mall to shop for goods.
Now, without those meaningless shows, the wealthy young ladies in the shelter had increased, but most had already become private collections of various big shots. They didn't even have the chance to go to the rooftop to sell their bodies.
The women who sold themselves when the apocalypse first struck relied on their own strength to fight. Only when the environment changed to a certain extent did they don beautiful clothes and use their looks to make a living.
Or perhaps they had lost all hope for the future, enduring each day in pain, wishing only to die in this place at some unknown point in the future.
An Xiaolu was different; she still carried the sensibility of the post-apocalypse and hope for the future. At the very least, those she protected lived securely, always gathering information about other survivors.
They were not like the survivors of Deep City; this was humanity's last stand. Millions of zombies made it nearly impossible for humans to survive, and survivors were barely hanging on under the threat of zombies.
They no longer hoped for clarity; only mutual restraint could guarantee the most basic order. No one knew when the last thread would snap.
"Hello! My name is An Xiaolu," she greeted awkwardly, her face flushed with embarrassment.
With so many eyes on her, most of them in tattered clothing, An Xiaolu felt a different atmosphere enveloping her.
"Miss, let the person behind you come out. You can't open this door by yourself! Stop pretending; just tell us where you're from and find your own place! But don't say I didn't warn you—every good spot has already been taken, and there aren't many left now."
"Oh no, living in the hall is prohibited; this is a public area." A middle-aged man at the outer edge of the survivors spoke weakly to An Xiaolu.
He was one of those who had prepared for a desperate fight and was still struggling between life and death. Now that An Xiaolu had opened the main door, he naturally wanted to seize this opportunity. This place was considered the safest; for some reason, there were always no zombies at the main entrance. However, opening that door required considerable manpower; without dozens of strong backs to help, it couldn't be done. With this opportunity presented, he was determined to go out.
Behind him, a dozen others also began to think about leaving. They couldn't survive without fighting back. There wasn't enough food for them to eat; stepping out through the main door led back into the commercial district of the post-apocalypse, where they might just find supplies.
"Oh, I went to find a place; there's really no one behind. Please feel free to go out!" An Xiaolu finished speaking and slowly wandered through the crowd.
He was quite uncomfortable with the gazes of the people here, as if a wolf had spotted a rabbit, but in the blink of an eye, they had already turned their attention elsewhere.
This was the rule of the entire shelter: no reckless behavior was allowed, or everyone would unite against it. They had to ensure the survival of those women; otherwise, if too many were harmed, there would be none left.
However, what An Xiaolu witnessed next left her astounded. A few older men walked out, each carrying a submachine gun. There was clearly no sign of any superpower surging, and unlike the submachine guns at the Hope Gathering Place, An Xiaolu could tell that they were capable of using those firearms. This place was surprisingly just like before the apocalypse; firearms could still be used!
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