CHAPTER 77: ABANDONED FACTORY (1)

And yet... Ling Yu wasn’t naïve. Things that looked harmless often carried the sharpest fangs.

She raised a finger and pressed it gently against the fluff’s head. "Quiet," she murmured.

It tilted its head and let out another tiny coo, as if complaining, before burrowing deeper into her cloak.

Her lips quirked almost imperceptibly. "You’re lucky I didn’t leave you in that basement," she said softly. "But if you draw attention to me, I’ll toss you back to the monsters myself."

The fluff answered with silence this time, though its tiny body trembled against her chest, whether in fear or simple nervous energy, she couldn’t tell.

Her stomach still carried the warmth of the meal she had managed earlier in the abandoned store, but she knew she would need proper shelter before the night descended. Roaming alone was efficient, but even efficiency had limits. At night, when visibility plummeted and monsters prowled more boldly, even the strongest could be overwhelmed.

And so, she made her decision.

Instead of standing out, she would melt into the background. She would find a group of survivors, people who are desperate enough not to question too much, but strong enough to hold the line against wandering threats.

An abandoned factory, perhaps.

Her memory tugged at her. In her past life, she had sheltered in a derelict textile factory for three nights during this exact period. The group she had stumbled upon then had been a volatile mix, half of them honest laborers clinging to hope, the other half opportunists waiting to exploit the weak. But she had survived it, and she remembered the layout well.

That factory would serve as her temporary haven again.

As Ling Yu moved through the cracked streets, she pulled her hood lower over her face.

The city, once bustling, had transformed into something grotesque. Smoke trailed from collapsed buildings. A toppled bus lay on its side, its windows shattered, bodies sprawled both inside and out. A child’s doll, its porcelain face cracked, lay in the middle of the road, abandoned.

She stepped carefully over pools of dried blood, her boots silent.

From an alley to her left, she heard the crash of metal, followed by shrieks. A group of young men was fighting over a sack of rice, their eyes wild, their voices hoarse. One of them hurled a bottle, shattering it against another’s head. Blood gushed, the victim screamed, but no one stopped, the others pounced, clawing at the bag like rabid animals.

Ling Yu didn’t pause. Her expression remained indifferent as she walked past, her presence unnoticed in the frenzy

Further ahead, a pharmacy’s glass doors had been smashed open. Inside, a middle-aged man with trembling hands shoved bottles of antibiotics into a bag, while two women screamed at him to share. When he refused, one of them lunged at him with a shard of glass.

The further she walked, the clearer the chaos became.

Ahead, a group of survivors were locked in a brawl outside a grocery store. One man clutched a sack of instant noodles to his chest as another tried to pry it from his grip. A woman screamed at them both, her hands tugging at a half-empty box of bottled water. Their shouts were hoarse, desperate, edged with hysteria. None of them noticed Ling Yu as she walked by, her figure shadowed by the lengthening dusk.

Further down, a gang of five men cornered a young couple, beating them with pipes and wooden sticks. The couple’s meager pile of canned goods was scattered on the ground, their blood mingling with the dirt. The girl’s shrieks cut the air before being silenced by a heavy kick. The gang snatched up the food without a backward glance.

More blood. More death.

It was repeating exactly as before.

Ling Yu’s expression did not change. Her steps neither quickened nor slowed. She did not interfere, nor did she feel pity. She had seen far worse in her past life, had herself once been reduced to starvation and filth while others tore the world apart for scraps. If she stopped to save every stranger, she would burn out before the third wave even began.

She felt nothing as she moved on. She had already grieved for humanity’s collapse once in her past life. She had already screamed, mourned, and despaired. This time, there was no room for that.

Only survival mattered.

.

.

.

By the time she reached the old textile factory, twilight had deepened into dusk.

The city offered countless hiding spots, ruined apartments, half-collapsed malls, empty warehouses. But Ling Yu knew better than to pick randomly. Scavenging groups would tear through the obvious places, searching every floor and corner for supplies. What she needed was a location that was both overlooked and defensible, something that could hold until the system’s next directive.

She recalled the memory of her past life: the abandoned factory on the eastern edge of the district. Rusted gates, broken windows, and machinery long since devoured by dust. It had no stockpiles of food left, no weapons or medicine. Because of that, most survivors ignored it entirely. But it had thick walls, wide spaces, and only a few points of entry. Perfect for watching and waiting.

The factory stood at the edge of the industrial district, its wide windows broken, its roof caved in places. Rust clung to the metal framework, and weeds had forced their way through the cracked pavement around it.

It loomed against the horizon, its skeletal towers cutting jagged lines against the orange sky. The gate hung from one hinge, groaning softly when the wind pushed against it. Weeds and vines curled up through cracks in the pavement.

Ling Yu slipped inside, her footsteps light and precise, barely disturbing the silence.

The interior was vast and shadowy, the air carrying the faint scent of oil and rust. Broken conveyor belts lay scattered like the bones of some long-dead beast. Empty crates were stacked haphazardly, dust motes swirling in the shafts of fading sunlight.