30: Chapter 30 Safe House

Sister Chen led Lin Yan through the scorched elevator shaft, climbing up the concrete stairs reinforced with iron and steel bars. Pushing open the blast door at the end, welded with channel steel, the view suddenly opened up.

The shopping mall rooftop had been converted into an aerial shelter capable of housing dozens of people. The walls surrounding the rooftop had been heightened with sheet metal barriers, with several observation ports opened up, each equipped with a homemade crossbow.

Along the wall was a row of beds made from shelves and wooden planks, with curtains made of old bedsheets swaying gently in the wind. A stove and chopped firewood were set up in the corner, and several rows of flowerbeds made from stacked, soil-filled old tires were planted with potatoes and cabbage.

The most conspicuous feature was the rainwater collection system mounted high on the roof. Several curved billboard metal sheets channeled rainwater into a storage tank, which then flowed through a filter made of sand, charcoal, and old clothes, before being filled into mineral water bottles of all sizes stacked against half the wall.

More than twenty people lived here, each with their own duties: planting vegetables, cooking, keeping watch, and repairing equipment. It didn't feel like a shelter; it was more like a miniature village suspended above the ruins.

Seeing Sister Chen bring a stranger back, everyone on the rooftop looked over. A young man who was sharpening a knife stood up first, his gaze sweeping back and forth over Lin Yan twice: the dark green bone tumor breastplate, the dark red fire-scale boots, and those knuckle-duster gloves with spikes.

"Captain, who is this?"

"Met him on the road." Sister Chen leaned her fire axe against the wall, her tone still tinged with lingering awe. "I originally wanted to save him, but it turned out he cleared over a hundred zombies all by himself, standing right in the middle of the horde letting them bite him, and his skin didn't even break."

The rooftop went silent for a moment. The young man sharpening the knife placed his short blade on the whetstone, eyes widening, his voice involuntarily rising a pitch: "Over a hundred? Alone?"

Others gathered around as well. The woman collecting bandages in front of the clothesline stopped, and the middle-aged man on watch at the observation port sprang up from his chair, forgetting to even grab his crossbow. Everyone looked at Lin Yan with the same emotion—not awe, not wariness, but a kind of disbelief after a crack had suddenly been pried open in the despair that had been pressing down on them for two years.

"His skin didn't even break?" Su Hao repeated, his tone even more urgent than before. "Sister, you saw it with your own eyes? Over a hundred zombies biting him, and his skin didn't even break?"

"Go back and count the corpses at the alley entrance yourself." Sister Chen cut off his questioning and turned to look at Lin Yan, only to find his gaze fixed on the flowerbeds at the edge of the rooftop.

Lin Yan was looking at those rows of tire flowerbeds. The potato vines were wilted, but the cabbage was growing vigorously, and a half-man-tall tomato plant in the corner had a few green fruits on it. In this ruined city full of zombies, on this drafty rooftop, someone was actually still growing vegetables.

An old man stood up from the table. He was in his sixties, with one arm amputated from below the elbow. He walked up to Lin Yan, sized him up for a long while, and then spoke slowly.

"Young man, you are not from Winter City. In the past two years, I have never seen equipment like yours, nor have I seen a physique that isn't afraid of infection after being bitten by zombies. How is it outside now? Has China still been sending rescue teams?"

The rooftop went silent again. Every survivor had asked this question countless times in their hearts, but they never dared to ask it directly in front of everyone, fearing that after asking, the answer would be harder to bear than the silence.

Lin Yan remained silent for a few seconds. He could, of course, answer this question. Tell them that they were just NPCs in a two-star Dungeon, and that their disaster was merely a trial ground for outsiders to grind mobs and earn points? Tell them that there had been no rescue for two years because their world had already been destroyed?

Telling them the truth was crueler than silence.

"The places outside are much like this one," he finally said vaguely. "You know the current situation in Winter City better than I do."

Uncle Zhou looked at him and remained silent for a long time. A flicker of extremely complex emotion flashed through the old man's eyes; perhaps he understood what Lin Yan had left unsaid, or perhaps he simply read the answer from this evasion. He nodded, not pressing further.

The topic sank silently, but the others did not distance themselves from Lin Yan because of his evasion.

Sister Chen took a yellowed, hand-drawn map from Uncle Zhou and spread it out on the table; a certain area was circled in red on the map.

"The abandoned industrial zone. There aren't many regular zombies here, but we can't determine how many variants are hiding inside. Three days ago, a four-person scavenging team went in and never came out. The location of their last communication is here."

"The old Sewage Treatment Plant."

She looked up at Lin Yan. "If you can help us find them, dead or alive, we will owe you one."

Lin Yan glanced at the location of the industrial zone on the map. "How far is it?"

"Over an hour's walk, but we have to pass through two zombie-dense areas on the way."

"How many are in those two dense areas?"

Sister Chen paused, pointing at the locations of the old commercial street and the residential area respectively: "Fifty or sixty in the first, over a hundred in the second. We have to detour every time, which adds an hour and a half to our walk."

"No detours. We leave early tomorrow morning and clear both dense areas on the way. Once we reach the industrial zone, you can wait on the perimeter while I go in to find them."

Sister Chen nodded. "Fine. I'll go in with you; you aren't familiar with the internal layout."

Su Hao stood up from the side. "Sister Chen, count me in for tomorrow too."

Sister Chen glanced at him. "You and Zhao Ming will provide support on the perimeter."

Shen Bing walked over from under the drying shed, holding a wet towel against her wrist. Her fingers would go numb every time she used her ability, requiring cold compresses to recover. Noticing Lin Yan's gaze, she looked up.

"Three fights tomorrow, can you hold up?"

"As long as there is enough rest in between, it won't be a problem."

"How long do you need?"

"About two or three hours for full ability recovery, but half an hour is enough to recover to a point where I can keep fighting."

As long as it's enough, it'll work. Lin Yan mentally mapped out the timeline. Three battles, over an hour on the road, plus battles and rest, Shen Bing would be able to recover to seventy or eighty percent.

Even if her frost could only maintain minimal crowd control in the final battle, he would just have to take a few more hits himself.

Uncle Zhou rolled up the map and handed it to Sister Chen. The old man patted Lin Yan on the shoulder gently. He didn't speak, just pressed down firmly, then withdrew his single hand to his side and turned back to the stove.

Zhao Ming brought over a few empty tin cans and broke up the last few pieces of compressed dry rations to distribute to everyone.