Chapter Twelve: Putting the Cart Before the Horse

The ground floors of residential buildings were generally five meters high. In the past, Xie Han would never have been able to climb up there. But now, with his body strength increased fivefold, what used to be impossible had become possible. He leapt almost into the air, reaching a height of over three meters, and successfully grabbed the window above. Everything was so nimble and effortless that, using the momentum of his jump, Xie Han vaulted from the window up to the second floor.

The windows on the second floor were fitted with iron security bars, but these posed no obstacle for Xie Han. He stowed his handgun in the spatial vault, gripped the steel bars with both hands, and exerted all his strength to wrench them apart. Under his force, the bars twisted and deformed, finally torn open to create a large gap. He shook his arms, feeling the ache that reminded him even with five or six times his former strength, tearing open the steel security bars was still a laborious task.

Opening the glass window behind the security bars, Xie Han took out his handgun and listened intently. After confirming there were no zombies inside, he signaled success from afar to Xu Qiang, who was attracting the zombies’ attention, and jumped through the gap, quickly vanishing behind the curtains.

He entered a spacious living room, its decor ordinary, the furniture common but in disarray. Only the pristine walls remained, adorned with a family portrait of four. Xie Han glanced at it—an elderly couple in their fifties, standing before them a son and daughter, both around twenty-one. From the gentle smiles on their faces, it seemed that before the outbreak of the XR virus, they were a blissful family.

After scanning the room to confirm there was no danger, Xie Han called out to Zhou Ruomeng, urgently asking, "Is the teleportation function limited to once every twenty-four hours?" Zhou Ruomeng stretched lazily and replied, "The teleportation function refreshes at midnight every day. That means after midnight, you can use it at any time during the day, but only once per day."

As soon as Zhou Ruomeng finished explaining, Xie Han activated the teleportation function without hesitation. He had already planned ahead: with the town overrun by zombies, entering it alone would be suicidal. But he couldn’t stand by and watch his team starve. The only solution was to teleport back to the real world and bring food from there. Of course, this plan depended on being able to teleport; if it was limited to once every twenty-four hours, Xie Han knew he’d have to risk searching for food among the zombies.

The transfer from the dim living room to his apartment in the real world happened in the blink of an eye. Xie Han, moving as fast as he could, rushed out of his apartment and ran toward the market. The market wasn’t far, and at full speed, he reached it in just over a minute.

Now was not the time for hesitation. Xie Han dashed into a rice shop, didn’t bother counting, tossed a handful of bills onto the counter, hoisted a fifty-kilogram bag of Thai jasmine rice onto his shoulder, grabbed a bundle of dried radish from outside the shop, and sprinted back to his apartment.

His actions left the market patrons stunned, especially when they saw him carrying over a hundred pounds of rice and still running faster than a professional sprinter. Instantly, Xie Han became the subject of everyone’s gossip.

It took him only a minute and a half to return home. Originally, he planned to stow the rice in the spatial vault and teleport right away, but seeing the date stamped on the rice bag, he fetched a wooden barrel from his kitchen, poured the entire bag in, tossed in the dried radish, sealed the lid, and with a wave of his hand, stored it in the spatial vault. Then he activated the teleportation function and returned to the apocalypse.

All these actions took just four or five minutes. Emerging into the living room, Xie Han immediately retrieved the rice barrel from the spatial vault, slung it onto his shoulder, and crawled out through the gap he’d torn open in the window. Standing on the windowsill, he looked into the distance. Xu Qiang was still leading the zombies in circles around a residential building. Their numbers had grown from a dozen to about forty or fifty. Further away, a horde of zombies was converging, ready to surround the area within two or three minutes.

A hundred pounds of rice was no light load. Xie Han eyed the five-meter drop, wishing for a rope to lower himself, but none was to be found. Seeing Xu Qiang about to run out of strength and start shooting the encroaching zombies, Xie Han could only tear down two curtain panels, tie them together, fix one end to the security bars, and let the other dangle to the ground, reaching nearly four meters.

Supporting the rice barrel on his shoulder with one hand and gripping the curtain with the other, Xie Han gritted his teeth and slid down. At one meter seventy-eight in height, with four meters of curtain, he landed without much trouble. The moment his feet touched the ground, he instinctively bolted toward the fields outside the town, shouting loudly, "Xu Qiang, retreat now!"

Xu Qiang had already spotted Xie Han at the window. When he saw Xie Han descend, he finally breathed a sigh of relief, abandoned his bait, and sprinted after Xie Han. Behind Xu Qiang surged a dense tide of zombies, numbering nearly ten thousand, now just twenty meters away.

Beyond the town, after three and a half years of abandonment, the weeds were head-high. Xie Han and Xu Qiang didn’t care if there were zombies lurking within—they plunged straight in.

Only now did Xu Qiang truly admire Xie Han. The man wasn’t much taller than himself, but much thinner, almost frail—a young man who, in Xu Qiang’s eyes, looked helpless and powerless. In times like these, survival depended on strength. Yet now, the old saying "don’t judge a book by its cover" rang truer than ever. How else could he carry a barrel of heavy rice and run like the wind? Xu Qiang could barely keep up with him.

Lost in these thoughts, the two managed to shake off the zombies and encountered no danger in the fields. After a wild dash, they reached a dry ditch and could run no further, collapsing exhausted.

Xie Han had never imagined that running with over a hundred pounds would be so taxing. Even with five times the strength of an ordinary person, he was panting like an ox. He set down the rice barrel, kneading his aching legs—his frantic run had left them numb, now relaxed to the point of losing all sensation. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took deep drags to help himself relax.

"Give me one," Xu Qiang, overcome with nerves, couldn’t resist the smell of tobacco and spoke up. Xie Han tossed him a cigarette, lit it for him, and the two lay powerless in the grass, gazing at the blue sky.

After finishing his cigarette, Xu Qiang asked, "How did it go?" It was his greatest concern; after three days without food, the run had left him weak. His stomach growled audibly, intensifying his hunger and draining his strength. If he didn’t eat soon, he wouldn’t have the energy to keep going and would ultimately fall prey to the zombies.

Xie Han smiled, opened the rice barrel, revealing the gleaming white grains. Ignoring Xu Qiang’s stunned expression, he dug out a bag of dried radish, releasing a rich aroma into the air that made Xu Qiang’s mouth water. With a hint of pride, Xie Han said, "What do you think? Enough to last us several days."

Xu Qiang nodded vigorously, wiped the drool from his mouth in embarrassment, and cursed, "Damn, I haven’t had proper rice for over a year. This time I’m eating seven or eight bowls, at least. I’ll eat until I’m full." Xie Han merely smiled, closed the barrel, and said, "Who knows if the zombies will chase us out here. We’d better hurry back to the van and leave this town as soon as possible."

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