Chapter 93 Sanctuary 7

Chapter 93 Shelter 7

At 9 a.m. on the fifth day, the system's mechanical voice announced, "Shelter I22 (this player's server) currently has 950 players, 2,300 NPCs, and 18,932 zombies remaining."

The zombie numbers had dwindled to just 38% of the original count.

But by now, the residents were barely holding on. After days of zombie hunting without a single crystal to show for it, their households had no income, and their food reserves had been completely depleted.

Facing starvation, the residents began to question, "Do zombies really drop crystals? Could this all be a scam?"

"What are the damn odds? Every day, we collectively hunt thousands—even tens of thousands—of zombies. How come nobody’s walking home with a hundred pounds of rice?"

"If I’d known, I wouldn’t have gotten involved! Scrounging for supplies was backbreaking work that barely kept me fed, but at least I wouldn’t starve." Some regretted their choices.

But the supporters shot back instantly, "Just because you haven’t gotten a crystal doesn’t mean it’s a scam. Don’t be such a sore loser."

"At first, the lucky ones who got crystals would trade openly. But folks wised up—now they deal under the table. You haven’t seen anyone get rice? Of course you haven’t! Who’d want thieves knowing?"

"Take my neighbor, for example. He smuggled sacks of rice after dark like some kinda bandit. But everyone knows—he just hit the jackpot."

"Instead of envying others’ luck, learn from their hard work. Luck’s just hard work in disguise. The lucky ones spend fourteen hours a day hunting zombies, killing at least ten daily. They earned it."

Drowning in this guilt-tripping nonsense, the skeptics were left speechless.

"My neighbor, my teammate, my aunt, my great-uncle..." It sounded like plenty scored rice—just not where folks could notice.

Why hadn’t some people been lucky? Because they hadn’t worked hard enough. In other words, they tried, but not hard enough.

But how hard was hard enough? No one could answer. Probably... until the day they got a crystal.

Su Han observed with icy detachment as these people spun their lies. "My neighbor, my teammate, my aunt, my great-uncle..." So many examples, yet none were their own experiences. Nobody’s dumb enough to advertise they’re sitting on a food stash.

In truth, the biggest challenge for the scam’s success was the "lucky winners" claiming their rewards.

The lab-coat crew only wanted to eliminate zombies and sell Vitality Potion at high prices for essential supplies. They would never freely give away their extremely limited stock.

So far, only one potion had been confirmed as consumed—a necessary investment to let the crowd witness its effects. The second and third "winners" were undoubtedly insiders. The potions changed hands on paper but stayed in-house. The first 'winner' was in on it too, deliberately refusing the potion to justify the public demonstration.

But the team was small, with members posing as researchers, leaving no spare hands to play additional "winners." Bringing in outsiders would’ve blown their cover.

So, they chose another strategy—steering the gossip.

There *were* more winners—they were just discreet, trading in secret.

No shiny rocks? Try putting in actual effort. Only yourself to blame.

...

And so, everything made sense.

Su Han’s eyes swept the room, curious how many supporters were hired, how many saw through the scam but played along, how many were part of the lab-coat crew steering opinions, and how many bought the lie so hard they sold it themselves.

Sadly, it was impossible to tell at a glance.

Among the skeptics, some began to waver.

Right on cue, whispers started circulating: "Word got around that some shelter traders heard crystals could produce a virus cure and have decided to help. They’ve sent ten squads of ten to hunt zombies. Any day now, they’ll strike gold."

So, the opponents clammed up. In their view, the caravan must have looked into it and confirmed that the crystals could be made into medicine before heading out to hunt. Their failure to find any crystals might just be bad luck.

At this thought, no one dared speak up, and they all lowered their heads and left.

The crisis passed, but the man in the white coat showed no sign of relief. Instead, his expression was unusually grave, as if bracing for disaster.

At the same time, Su Han frowned. The caravan had numbers on their side. If they hunted for two or three days without any results, they would surely realize something was wrong. Who knew how they’d react?

**

Inside the shelter, figures moved about in the wooden house, and occasional arguments broke out. However, both sides kept their voices down on purpose to avoid drawing attention.

"The caravan has sent people to clear out the zombies. Within three days, they’ll definitely discover there are no so-called crystals. What do you plan to do then?" The man in the white coat, named Qin Mo, furrowed his brows, his voice tense.

"No need to panic," a lazy male voice responded. "So far, everything is under control."

"If we don’t come up with a solution soon, the situation will fall apart!" At this moment, Qin Mo dropped his cool act entirely, his words filled with anxiety.

"We still have two or three days, don’t we?" The lazy voice shrugged it off.

Taking a deep breath, Qin Mo reined in his temper. He suggested, "Plans can’t keep up with changes. Let’s abandon the original idea. Time is too tight—we can’t possibly eliminate all the zombies and swindle the exchange in time. Under the current circumstances, the best course of action is to conduct the trade immediately, then quickly leave the shelter and lie low somewhere else."

"Thanks for the advice, but I’ll handle it my way," the lazy voice replied.

Qin Mo was left utterly speechless.

**

Not far outside the shelter, Yuan Yuan leaned against a large rock, her brows tightly knit as she endured immense pain, cold sweat breaking out all over her body.

Her face was ghostly pale, and a faint rotting smell emanated from the wound on her arm—a clear sign of severe injury.

"Sis, drink some water," a little girl said, running over with a clay jug.

"Cough, cough..." Yuan Yuan coughed for a while before finally speaking weakly. "Don’t waste your effort. I was scratched by a zombie—I’m as good as dead."

Each word was a struggle. Her voice was hoarse.

"No, you’ll definitely get better," the little girl insisted, tears already falling.

Yuan Yuan knew the truth. Recently, many residents had been enthusiastically hunting zombies, and several had been accidentally scratched—all of them had died. Her time was coming; it was only a matter of sooner or later.

"Quiet, listen to me carefully," she said, deliberately putting on a stern tone. "Once you get food, eat it as quickly as possible—that way, it won’t be stolen. When judging people, look at their eyes first. If they don’t seem trustworthy, you must..."

She swallowed with difficulty before continuing, "...must stay away. Be careful above all else—there are too many bad people out there."

"Sis, stop talking, just rest," the little girl gasped between sobs.

But Yuan Yuan insisted, "It’s because I don’t have much time left that I need to teach you everything I know. Listen well, and remember as much as you can. Even if you’re left all alone, you have to survive, understand?"

Then, summoning her last bit of strength, she continued explaining how to survive this hellscape.

After a long while, Yuan Yuan finally finished saying what she wanted to say. She leaned against the rock, panting heavily, clearly exhausted.

"Drink," the little girl offered the jug again.

This time, Yuan Yuan didn’t refuse.

Soon, the jug was empty. The little girl hastily stood up. "I’ll go get more water. Wait for me."

With that, she hurried off.

Yuan Yuan felt her vision blurring, her mind fading fast, her consciousness threatening to slip away at any moment.

She let out a bitter laugh, murmuring, "Didn't I just warn you? There's no room for blind compassion in the apocalypse."

"If you encounter someone wounded by a zombie, stay as far away as possible. You never know when they might turn into senseless monsters."

"After all that lecturing, how much did you actually remember…?"

Her heart still ached for her sister, but Yuan Yuan knew all too well that if she didn’t leave now, she might lose her sanity in the next second and harm the only family she had left.

Struggling to her feet, Yuan Yuan staggered away from her sister, swaying unsteadily.

**

Out in the wilderness, a twenty-person squad was mopping up zombies. Dressed in black uniforms, they operated with military precision—some firing guns, others throwing grenades.

An old man in a white hazmat suit watched excitedly, muttering to himself, "Heh, this is the first I've heard about crystals in zombie brains. I’d love to see what they look like."

"Old Jiang, you should keep your distance. We wouldn’t want you getting hurt by accident," pleaded Wang, the bespectacled assistant, with deep concern. "You’re a leading medical expert, a national treasure! We can’t afford even the slightest mishap!"

"Just one look won't kill me," the old man dismissed.

Seeing his persuasion was futile, Wang had no choice but to relent.

Suddenly, Old Jiang exclaimed "Huh?" in surprise and pointed. "What’s that?"

Following his gaze, Wang spotted a figure lying on the ground not far away.

"Guards! Protect Old Jiang, now!" Wang barked.

Old Jiang thought his assistant was being paranoid, but he understood—Wang bore full responsibility if anything went wrong, so he couldn’t afford to be careless.

At once, bodyguards closed ranks around, shielding Old Jiang in the center.

With a sigh, Old Jiang reminded them, "Don’t all crowd around me! Send someone to check on that person on the ground."

One of them hurried over and returned shortly to report, "It’s a little girl, around seven or eight years old. She has a wound on her arm, reeking of decay. Her lips are blue, and her face is pale—likely attacked by a zombie."

As everyone knew, those attacked by zombies either died or turned into zombies themselves. This girl was unconscious, hovering near death.

"Such a young thing, what a shame," Old Jiang murmured softly. After a moment’s thought, he waved his hand. "She'll make a good research sample. Take her back."