027, Bamboozled!

Qi Sheng felt that the others' reactions were somewhat off.

They all seemed—perhaps—a bit too bloodthirsty and aggressive!

Back on the seventh floor, weren't they all hesitant and reluctant to come up? After witnessing the horror of the monsters, and seeing several people bitten and devoured along the way, the group had scrambled to the eighth floor in a desperate panic. Many of them had been so terrified their legs turned to jelly, still panting heavily at the doorway just moments ago.

Why, then, were they now acting as if they had been injected with adrenaline, eager to take on the armored monster?

Could it be that they had seen the armor on the creature and were thinking of stripping it off for protection? Wealth has moved hearts since ancient times; was that why they were suddenly so proactive and fired up?

Qi Sheng didn't have time to dwell on it. The last young man to speak had already begun the countdown.

Qi Sheng wanted to shout, "Wait! We haven't even found suitable weapons yet! Don't be rash; charging in like this is just suicide!" But since the countdown had already started, he dared not interrupt, fearing he would disrupt the morale of the "troops."

In any case, he had no intention of joining the fight himself. He had only goaded them into it to distract the armored monster so he could slip away to the grilled fish restaurant to find Chu Yan.

Now, these greedy, insignificant strangers he had happened upon were charging in blindly without even selecting weapons. Although Qi Sheng anticipated that this group would likely become cannon fodder—serving up their hot, fresh blood to the monster—he had no intention of warning them.

As the young man reached "two," Qi Sheng’s gaze turned toward the grilled fish restaurant one hundred meters to his right.

He rolled up his sleeves. His outfit for the day—a white dress shirt, black suit trousers, and gold-rimmed glasses that gave him a deep, composed air—had been carefully curated for Chu Yan’s eyes. Now, however, the white shirt was stained with the foul, reeking blood of zombies, along with the crimson fluid oozing from his own injuries.

Qi Sheng clicked his tongue in annoyance at the monster that had appeared to interrupt his "date" with Chu Yan. It was simply rotten luck; it had completely ruined his plans.

It was a pity he couldn't do anything to these monsters for the moment. But once the government stepped in, he would make sure to witness the miserable end of these creatures. It would be best if the authorities ground them into dust to prevent the virus they carried from infecting anyone else.

Qi Sheng felt a surge of resentment. At this moment, the people around him did not realize that the apocalypse had quietly descended. The peaceful age was gone, never to return. Most people, like Qi Sheng, simply assumed that the sudden chaos was just a temporary accident and that life would soon return to normal.

...

In the blink of an eye, the young man’s countdown reached "one!"

Qi Sheng lunged toward the grilled fish restaurant, but he immediately sensed something was wrong.

"Eh? Where are they?" Qi Sheng was stunned.

He spared a fraction of his focus to look around, only to see the "frail uncle," who had been the slowest of the lot, disappearing around the corner of the stairwell.

Damn it!

These double-dealing wretches! They had tricked him into charging out alone to face the terrifying armored monster!

Qi Sheng couldn't believe it. He had always been the one to manipulate others; he never imagined he would be played for a fool by these insignificant nobodies he hadn't even bothered to take seriously.

He felt humiliated and enraged, but he had no time to dwell on his anger. The armored figure of Qi Ran had already closed the distance in a flash.

Before Qi Sheng could react, Qi Ran raised her hand and struck the back of his neck with calculated force. Having awakened her talent, her physical stats had soared, with her strength reaching 442. Had she used her full power, she would have killed him instantly. But to ensure Qi Sheng would live a long, agonizing life of struggle and pain in the coming apocalypse, she carefully moderated her blow.

Having seen the entire scene of Qi Sheng being outsmarted, Qi Ran had nearly burst out laughing.

Qi Sheng had been raised by their parents with meticulous care, imbuing him with an air of nobility and untouchable arrogance. In peaceful times, he would have stood on a pedestal, surrounded by sycophants and flatterers. But with the world collapsing, those very traits—the mark of a sheltered capitalist who had never known hardship—only invited hostility in a cutthroat, survival-of-the-fittest environment.

In short, a young master like Qi Sheng, accustomed to others serving him, was not someone capable of commanding others or rising to the top of the food chain in a lawless world. Not to mention, his twenty-three years of smooth sailing had left him with a naive, academic view of human nature. The strength he had shown thus far was insufficient to win anyone's loyalty.

Song Chen, who had brought people up from the seventh floor, had quickly gained followers through his bravery. But Qi Sheng, a merchant driven by profit, had greed and self-preservation etched into his bones. He would never waste his energy for the sake of others. And how could a man who performed mediocrely in battle expect his comrades to follow his obviously malicious commands?

Facing an invincible enemy, turning to run offered a sliver of hope. But charging head-on? Who was he trying to fool? Moths had been flying into flames for eons, and not one had ever extinguished the fire. As the ancestors said, "The moth flies into the flame and brings about its own destruction."

When faced with the choice between life and death, no one who truly wanted to survive was stupid.

Qi Sheng, with his elite upbringing, was used to looking down on others. By underestimating them, he had only himself to blame for being outplayed.

Of course, Qi Ran, who had been raised in the same household and molded by the same parental expectations, possessed that same air of detachment. It was a quality that, to those struggling in the blood-soaked trenches of survival, was like a thorn in the eye—instantly provoking a dark, visceral sense of disgust.