Establishing the Shelter
Nicole Kidman’s exquisite body had Xiao Yi utterly entranced. He even wished he could hole up in the villa all day, ravishing her relentlessly and savoring the sexual services of this international superstar.
But Xiao Yi knew better. No matter how alluring a woman might be, in this apocalyptic hellscape, raw power was the only thing that truly mattered! While toying with and training his women, he had to bolster his own strength, hoard more resources, and build a proper shelter of his own.
Only then could he carve out a foothold in the end times, claim more women, and revel in even greater pleasures. Otherwise, some stronger faction could swoop in at any moment, seizing everything he had—even turning him into their slave.
Moreover, yesterday at Stephanie Seymour’s manor, Xiao Yi had made a chilling discovery: the zombies weren’t static. They were evolving.
The zombies inside the manor were clearly different from those outside—not just weirder in appearance, but tougher, too. Their strength, speed, and even cunning far surpassed the average shambling corpse.
So now, he had to make himself stronger, stockpile more supplies, and erect a shelter that belonged to him!
He’d already considered it yesterday: Stephanie Seymour’s villa was perfect for turning into a secure haven.
First, it had running water and electricity.
Second, the estate was ringed by towering walls and a full defense system. Power it up, and the cameras and alarms would hum back to life.
Plus, the grounds were vast enough to support a real base.
“System, check my current energy.”
Zombie cores acquired this session: 16
System charge: 100% — Second World travel available.
Stay duration in Second World: 8 hours.
He’d taken down six zombies in the manor’s backyard earlier, plus ten more outside the villa—sixteen in total.
Though the system was fully charged and ready for a jump to the Second World, eight hours was too damn short. What could he even accomplish in that time?
And without wealth in the modern world, smuggling supplies back to the apocalypse was impossible.
Heading there now would be pointless. To haul more goods across, he needed serious cash in the Second World first.
Xiao Yi knew his current identity there—an affluent kid, sure—wouldn’t generate massive wealth overnight. A few days? No chance.
Then there was something else odd he’d noticed. Every time he absorbed that white energy from a zombie core to charge the system, his body underwent subtle shifts—changes too faint to pinpoint at first.
But they were accumulating. He could already feel his physique transforming.
His strength had ticked up. His vision, hearing, reflexes, height, stamina—even his sexual prowess—had all sharpened beyond his old baselines.
And that rush after each kill? A flood of white-hot vitality, like he could go forever.
He hadn’t been sure at first if the cores were responsible. But after last night’s marathon with Nicole, he was convinced: this was evolution, courtesy of the zombie core energy.
Realizing that ignited an insatiable hunger in him to slaughter more zombies.
He peeked through the curtains at the front yard.
Today’s sun blazed fiercer than yesterday’s. It was already 10 a.m., and under the scorching glare, most of the zombies that had clustered there overnight had dispersed. The dozen or so stragglers looked utterly listless.
After a moment’s thought, Xiao Yi locked in his immediate goals: rack up more kills while systematically clearing the zombies from Stephanie Seymour’s manor. Turn the place into his first true stronghold.
He raided the tool shed for boards, sticks, and nails, then barricaded the villa’s battered front door. Sword in hand, he slipped out the side entrance into the front yard.
This modao was a modern replica—short-handled, its blade reminiscent of a Japanese katana. Top-shelf materials made it razor-sharp and perfectly balanced for swings.
Its main flaw? Length. Against zombies, it cleaved heads like ripe fruit, but the short reach forced close-quarters brawls. Swarm him, and it’d be overwhelming—good for one kill at a time, maybe two if he was lucky.
He’d barely stepped into the yard when two zombies dozing under the eaves stirred like starving hyenas scenting blood. They rasped their guttural “grrr-ghh” and lurched toward him, sluggish in the daylight.
These basic shamblers were clumsy on a good day; under the sun, they were jokes. Xiao Yi didn’t give them a second thought.
The modao flashed free. A cold gleam sliced the air—and in an instant, both zombies hit the dirt, heads rolling free.