Chapter 7: Sweeping the Building

When he woke up, his Spiritual Power was fully restored.

He rubbed his eyes and walked into the kitchen. Looking at his meager remaining supplies, he cooked a fist-sized bowl of rice on the cassette stove. Without adding any seasoning, he chewed mechanically, feeling the faint Energy brought by the starch breaking down in his mouth. He then crushed his last half piece of compressed biscuit and washed it down with his final few gulps of water, swallowing with difficulty.

His food could last a few more days, but he had less than six bottles of water left. He had to find a water source today.

Before setting out, Han Ning did a final check of the gear in his backpack: a hammer for prying locks, a screwdriver, a bottle of water, a roll of first-aid bandages, painkillers, half a roll of duct tape, and some iron wire. And, of course... the spare cleaver clutched in his hand. Everything was accounted for.

He walked to the security door, slowly turned the handle, and pulled it open just a crack. Han Ning's gaze swept across the empty corridor, finally landing on the tightly shut door of Room 701 next door. His movements over the past few days had been rushed, leaving him no time to thoroughly search all the rooms on this floor. Now that his strength had grown, he planned to start scavenging for supplies on his own floor first.

Without the hesitation that had plagued his first excursion, Han Ning stepped decisively out of his apartment. Splashing lightly through the puddles on the floor, he approached Room 701.

The door was firmly shut, the keyhole intact. He tried twisting the handle, but it didn't budge. Pressing his ear against the door panel, he heard nothing but dead silence inside.

Han Ning didn't immediately try to force the lock. Instead, he placed his palm against the imperceptible gap between the bottom of the security door and the floor.

SWISH.

With a faint flash of green light, a vine as thin as fishing line slipped through the crack. Acting as an extension of Han Ning's own fingers, it slowly wriggled up the inside of the door, eventually reaching the lock and pulling down.

CLICK.

The door opened.

A pungent smell of dust rushed to greet him. Sweeping his flashlight beam across the room, he revealed an empty living room with furniture draped in thick white cloths. It had clearly been vacant for a long time. Han Ning searched the premises but found absolutely no food.

Finally, he moved on to Room 702. Just as he arrived at the door, an extremely faint sound filtered through the heavy panel. It wasn't the sound of rain, nor the wind. Was it... human voices?

It sounded like two people urgently arguing in breathless whispers, their voices kept so low that the words were broken and indistinct. Han Ning leaned his head against the door and listened closely.

"The water... is almost gone..."

"...Too many... monsters... outside..."

"...Just wait... a few more days."

"Mommy, I'm hungry!"

"WAAAH!"

"Survivors!" he thought. "Should I talk to them and trade some supplies?"

"Never mind..." After a moment of hesitation, Han Ning turned and walked toward the stairwell. Judging by their conversation, they were definitely short on supplies too, and he had no desire to become a home-invading robber.

He searched all the remaining rooms on the floor, but the results were highly disappointing. It wasn't all bad news, however; at the very least, he hadn't seen any signs of the Crocodile Lizards today.

Han Ning stepped into the stairwell and carefully checked the flights leading up and down. After confirming there were no roaming Crocodile Lizards, he opted to head upstairs. His reasoning was simple: the higher the floor, the lower the probability of running into a Crocodile Lizard.

The layout of the eighth-floor corridor was identical to the seventh—four apartments per floor—but the standing water here seemed shallower. The lighting was also much dimmer.

He tried Room 801 first. It pushed open easily; no one lived there. Room 802 was the same. But when his hand grasped the cold handle of Room 803, he found the door locked.

Using the same method as before, Han Ning manipulated his vine to unlock it. The moment the door opened, a pungent smell—mixed with the faint odor of spoiling food—spilled out.

"The stench of rotting food," Han Ning muttered. His nose twitched, and a surge of joy rose in his chest. He quickly slipped sideways into the apartment, gently pulling the door shut behind him.

The interior was pitch black, its curtains drawn tight. There was no lunging monster as he might have feared, nor were there any terrified screams from survivors. His flashlight beam swept across the living room, revealing a warmly decorated suite. Empty beverage bottles and snack wrappers lay scattered across the coffee table, and a crumpled blanket rested on the sofa.

Enduring the rotten stench, Han Ning made his way step-by-step toward the kitchen. A high-end, double-door refrigerator immediately caught his eye. He pulled it open, and an indescribable medley of odors washed over him.

It was a disgusting cocktail of the cloying sweetness of overripe fruit, the sour tang of rotting vegetables, and the rank stench of spoiled meat. Stinky as it was, the fridge was full. No, more accurately, it was stuffed to the brim!

Inside the refrigerator compartment, various plastic bags of fruits and vegetables were piled on top of each other, many of which had already turned black and sprouted mold. A few apples were mostly rotten, and a bag of cucumbers had melted into a mushy puddle inside its plastic casing. A dozen unopened cartons of milk and yogurt were crammed into a corner, but their packaging had already begun to bulge.

He opened the freezer door to find an even richer variety of food. It was packed tight with vacuum-sealed meats, frozen fish, frozen dumplings, and sweet rice balls. Because these were frozen foods with excellent seals, they had held up surprisingly well. Even without power, they had been kept in an enclosed space that retained its cold, aided by the relatively low room temperature of the apartment. Some of the packaging even still had a layer of frost clinging to it.

"Huh? What's this?" Han Ning's gaze casually swept past the side of the fridge. Surprisingly, there was a small pantry right inside the kitchen.

The pantry door was open, and it lacked the rotting stench of the main kitchen. He raised his hand, shining his flashlight into the space. Neatly stacked in the corner were four unopened bags of vacuum-sealed rice. Each was a standard ten-kilogram bag.

On the adjacent shelves sat several sealed jars of dried goods like mushrooms, wood ear fungus, and daylilies. There were also a few unopened packets of dried noodles, boxes of self-heating rice, packs of compressed biscuits, and even several tins of canned food—luncheon meat and dace in black bean sauce. Two plastic storage bins rested on the floor; one contained unopened seasonings like salt, sugar, soy sauce, and vinegar. At the very back, stacked half a wall high, were cases of mineral water and various beverages.

"Holy shit..." Even though Han Ning had mentally prepared himself, he couldn't help but curse softly, his voice trembling slightly with excitement.

Perhaps influenced by a certain unmentionable event from a couple of years ago, the owner of this apartment must have been a prepper, hoarding a vast amount of supplies in their home. For whatever reason, they hadn't returned. Now, all these resources were practically a gift to him!

"I've struck gold. I've really hit the jackpot this time!" Han Ning was thrilled, but he quickly forced himself to calm down. With this much stuff, there was no way he could carry it all in one trip.

Since the owner wasn't coming back, he could just move in here directly. That would save him the hassle of transporting everything. Furthermore, being on a higher floor meant it was safer. All he had to do was bring over the useful items from his own apartment, 703. Logically, the layouts of 703 and 803 should be identical, but somehow his place didn't seem quite as spacious as this one.