Two former rivals who once fought each other to the death had, by the end, both ended up defeated.

Only at this point did they finally sit down together and talk.

Perhaps they still couldn’t understand each other.

There was a saying—economic foundations determine the superstructure.

Because they grew up in completely different environments, their ways of thinking were entirely different.

An Muning never trusted anyone.

Fan Ningyue, on the other hand, trusted people too much.

When An Muning opened his second pack of cigarettes, Fan Ningyue watched as an entire full box rapidly disappeared, frowning.

“If you keep smoking like that, you won’t live long.”

“Don’t worry. My abilities are far beyond what you imagine.” An Muning lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.

The terrifying lung capacity of an ability user caused the cigarette to burn down rapidly.

With just one inhale, An Muning finished more than half of it.

He held up what was left toward Fan Ningyue, then pressed the cigarette butt onto his own arm.

“Sssshhh—”

The sound of flesh being burned was sharp and faint, enough to make Fan Ningyue frown deeply.

But An Muning seemed to feel nothing. He twisted the cigarette butt, then flicked it into the ashtray.

Black ash mixed with bodily fluid seeping from the wound, sticking to the skin. An Muning took a piece of tissue and wiped it away, even tearing off a small piece of skin soaked through with that liquid.

The wound was strange—shaped like an inverted triangle.

“Look,” An Muning said, turning his arm toward her.

The next second, the flesh on his arm rapidly regenerated, becoming smooth and unblemished.

“I previously obtained an ability called regeneration. Healing small injuries like this is no problem. The only flaw is that wounds and scars formed before I got this ability can’t be removed.”

“…You burned yourself just to show me that?”

“With my level of education, it’s very hard to explain things clearly,” An Muning shrugged. “So I might as well let you see it for yourself. Showing is easier than talking.”

“……”

Fan Ningyue didn’t know what to say for a moment.

So all those seemingly self-destructive actions of his in the past weren’t madness, but just because he couldn’t explain things with words?

“Just like when we rarely sit down and talk like this,” An Muning continued, as if confirming her thoughts.

“Explaining how to control zombies with words is ultimately pale and powerless. But if I bring a zombie in front of you and let you see me controlling it, it becomes much more concrete.”

“…And then you got bitten by your own zombie?”

“Mm. That was to verify that the zombies I created didn’t carry a transmissible virus—that they were the purest kind of weapon,” An Muning said with a shrug. “Too bad you later shattered it with a shot.”

“Objectively speaking, increasing the number of zombies at that time wasn’t a good thing—even if they didn’t carry a virus,” Fan Ningyue said, eyes closed.

“See? You always make rational judgments,” An Muning spread his hands, looking at her with a half-smile. “Did your rational judgment include the possibility that you would be hunted down by the people you were trying to protect?”

Fan Ningyue said nothing.

After a long silence, she sighed.

“Why do you always have to mock me?”

“If I didn’t mock you, should I be praising you instead?” An Muning scoffed. “Were we ever such good friends before the apocalypse?”

To her, he had no sympathy, acting entirely on his mood of the day.

Fan Ningyue thought that the reason she had survived might simply be because An Muning happened to be in a good mood that night.

If it had been a muggy night instead of a pleasant one, he might have shot her on the spot without hesitation.

“Um… An Muning.”

“What?”

“Can you do me a favor?” Fan Ningyue’s voice was barely louder than a mosquito’s buzz.

An Muning stood up. “What favor?”

“I’ve been sitting here the whole time… even sleeping while sitting… can you lay me down? It’s really inconvenient.”

“With my fists?”

“……”

“Just kidding.” An Muning gently pressed her shoulders, feeling her body tremble slightly.

“Don’t blame me. It’s my first time bandaging someone. I can heal myself, so I’ve never used bandages before.”

“You saved me. I’m already grateful enough.”

“We don’t exactly have a life-or-death grudge anyway.” An Muning laid her down and looked at the woman curled up on the sofa, only her head exposed. “What kind of impression do I even give you people?”

Fan Ningyue remained silent.

…

On the sofa lay the human “savior” who had once driven him back, while below, waves of mindless zombies roamed.

An Muning stood in the corridor with a cigarette in his mouth.

The old residential building’s corridor faced the outside directly, allowing him to clearly see the zombies below.

He had also learned quite a bit from Fan Ningyue.

He didn’t bother, nor care, to explain the slander against him—but he hadn’t expected the so-called “Survivor Alliance” to pin every imaginable crime on his head.

“Ha…”

The white smoke was torn apart by the night wind into fragments.

No food, no ability users to consume—then no evolved zombies would appear.

So if those ambitious people truly followed his intended logic…

They would use the ability users living in human settlements as food for the zombies.

Those useless ability users could all be used as nourishment.

Clang—

The metal railing twisted rapidly, a section of it being crushed in his grip, leaving clear fingerprints behind.

“So I really do understand you people too well,” he said, casually flicking away the cigarette butt without caring where it landed, or whether it might ignite a patch of grass somewhere.

Back when he had been surviving by scavenging scrap metal, he wouldn’t even allow a single spark to appear.

He turned and walked back into the room.

Fan Ningyue had fallen asleep on the sofa.

There wasn’t really any concern for posture or anything like that—except for her face and neck, her entire body was wrapped in bandages, only her calves left exposed. Lying there, she looked almost like a corpse.

She was sleeping quite peacefully…

“Using ‘peacefully’ to describe someone’s sleeping face doesn’t sound right…” An Muning muttered, resting his chin on his hand.

“Ugh…” The woman let out a dreamlike groan, as if she were having a nightmare.

After everything she had been through, having nightmares was perfectly normal.

An Muning looked at her for a while.

After a moment, as if thinking of something, he pulled a blanket from the side and gently tossed it over Fan Ningyue.

“Sleep well,” he said, patting her head in a reassuring gesture.

Just like how his older sister used to comfort him when he had nightmares a long, long time ago.

“Ha… time to sleep,” An Muning stretched and walked into the other room.

Outside, there were occasional zombie howls, but for someone like An Muning—who had lived in such an environment for over a decade—it didn’t affect his sleep at all.

As for Fan Ningyue?

She was already fast asleep.