Morning.

Gunshots echoed through the Sunshine Garden Complex.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Suddenly, James Lone stopped firing, lowering his rifle and storing it back into his subspace. The mutated frog was back.

The creature returned to the swimming pool, its massive body visibly swelling with rage.

Ribbit! Ribbit! Ribbit!

In just a few minutes, almost all the remaining tadpoles in the pool were dead. The frog, dumb as it was, seemed to understand that the strange "thunderclaps" were connected to the deaths of its offspring. But no matter how hard it searched, it couldn't locate the source of its torment.

Instead, it let out a series of furious croaks, its rage echoing through the complex as it flailed in the water.

James Lone smirked. "Morning workout's done. Time for breakfast."

Back at home, the women had prepared a lavish breakfast. Plates of food filled the table as they competed for his attention.

"Master, try the toast I just made!" "Master, I made steamed eggs, just like you said you liked!" "Master..." "Master..."

James Lone enjoyed the perfect breakfast in peace. When he was finished, he leaned back, satisfied. "Alright, go relax. Don't forget to charge my spare phone on the balcony. I'm heading out."

Now that his teleportation skill had reached 9 stars, his mobility had expanded dramatically. James had decided to spend the day scavenging for supplies to prepare for the brutal days ahead.

Weapons, medicine, medical equipment, diesel generators, tools—he needed everything. And with unlimited storage space, he could take as much as he wanted.

The women exchanged worried looks. Their comfortable lives depended entirely on James Lone. If something happened to him, their fate would be no better than the rest of the survivors—likely far worse, as their beauty made them targets.

Shirley Inr Won spoke softly, "Master, please be careful."

The others nodded, their concern etched on their faces.

James responded with a faint smile. "Don't worry." With a flick of his hand, he opened a massive blue portal and stepped through.

The women watched him disappear, then broke into hushed whispers, dividing into small groups. Shirley grabbed a portable solar charger and James's spare phone, heading up to the rooftop.

'Byakuga n', the massive dog, perked up at the sound of her footsteps, lazily lifting its head. Seeing it was Shirley, it flopped back down, uninterested.

Shirley glanced at the dog's muscular frame, feeling a bit more at ease. Without 'Byakuga n' keeping watch, she wouldn't have dared step outside alone.

The sun was shining brightly that morning, a rare sight. She set up the solar panel, plugged in the phone, and began charging it.

Meanwhile, James Lone's portal opened in the sub-basement of New York's Third People's Hospital. Stepping through, he activated his Phase Shift ability, his body becoming intangible.

Within a 100-meter radius of his senses, the hospital seemed utterly deserted.

James frowned, his guard instantly up. From the parking lot covered in vines to the eerily silent halls, nothing moved. Cars sat in the underground lot, long abandoned and overtaken by plant life.

He scanned the area again, focusing his perception. Still, nothing seemed out of place.

The hospital's inpatient lobby was barricaded with a towering pile of hospital beds and equipment, stacked two or three meters high, as if to block something from entering. The barricade, however, was unattended, overrun with vines and debris.

Among the vines were scattered fragments of bones, their origins unclear. Were they human? Animal? It was impossible to tell.

Vines even stretched to the second floor, their tendrils invading every crevice. Beyond the third floor, however, things seemed strangely normal—signs of past habitation were everywhere. Burned walls, discarded bedding, cigarette butts, and food wrappers were strewn across the floors. Blood stains painted the walls, and broken belongings were scattered haphazardly.

The scene screamed of a disaster that had forced survivors to flee en masse.

But why? What had driven them away?

James felt a chill run down his spine. Something wasn't right.

In the entire 12-story hospital, there wasn't a single sign of life—not even insects, rats, or stray cats and dogs. The world outside was teeming with these creatures, but here, there was only silence.

Dead silence.

James's unease deepened. "This place is wrong. Something's here... something I can't see."

He didn't hesitate. With a flick of his hand, he opened another portal and stepped back into his subspace. In times like these, curiosity was a death sentence.

The hospital remained quiet, the only sound the rustling of leaves in the wind.

Reemerging, James arrived at a small private clinic. This time, the scene was much more familiar.

A dozen survivors had holed up on the top floor, gathered around something. James focused his senses—and nearly vomited his breakfast.

Jesus Christ... he thought, his face twisting in disgust.

They were eating a half-meter-long maggot.

James gagged, averting his gaze. Deciding to leave them to their misery, he moved straight to the pharmacy.

On the way, he crushed a rat the size of a cat under his boot, the crunch satisfying in its simplicity.

The pharmacy had been ransacked, its shelves in disarray. The glass doors of the refrigeration units were shattered, rendering any temperature-sensitive medication useless. Still, there was plenty left behind.

James swept every sealed package into his storage space, not bothering to check what the medications were. That was a problem for Wot Andrew, his resident medic.

In the storage room, he found boxes of medical supplies: disposable syringes, surgical blades, and more. He took it all.

"Next stop: Shengshi Furniture Plaza and the hardware market next door," he muttered to himself, stepping into another portal.

Four Floors Up, A Seven Days Inn Near the New York Film Academy

Teresa Taylor stood by the window, her expression grim. "How many shots did you hear coming from Sunshine Garden Complex earlier?"

Mike Brown, her subordinate, scratched his head. "At least fifty."

Teresa frowned. "Looks like it's definitely that gun thief."

There was no way a police officer would carry that much ammunition, let alone waste it so freely. The pattern of gunfire—steady, almost leisurely—suggested someone was practicing. A real officer wouldn't be wasting bullets on target practice in times like these.

No, it had to be the thief.

Around her, the remaining survivors stirred awake. Lincoln Filed, however, remained motionless. He hadn't survived the night.

By morning, his body had already begun to stink, and no one wanted to get near it. Teresa wrapped his corpse in a hotel bedsheet and carried him outside. Finding a patch of dirt nearby, she buried him.

At the grave, she drove a wooden stick into the ground, carving onto it:

"Lincoln Filed, Rank 2 Officer, Peace Road Police Station. Badge Number: XXXXXX."

Teresa stood silently over the grave, her eyes heavy. After a long moment, she spoke softly, "If I'm still alive this time next year, I'll come back to see you."

Straightening, she saluted the grave with the precision of a professional, then turned on her heel and walked away without looking back.

Back in the hotel, the survivors were ready to leave. They had learned the hard way to tie their sleeves and pant legs shut with rope to prevent insects from crawling inside. Those who hadn't... were already dead.

Teresa glanced at her handgun, running her fingers along its barrel. Only four bullets left. She wouldn't waste a single one. If she could capture the gun thief, she'd have more than enough ammunition to protect her group—and far fewer casualties.

Hoisting her fire axe, she took a deep breath. "Let's move. I'll take point."

Without hesitation, she led the way out, her weary survivors trudging after her like the walking dead.

Regenerate