Chapter Twenty: Crisis at the Hotel

So that’s how it was—at this stage, the chance of finding weapons in airdrop crates wasn’t high. He himself had lucked out only because he’d opened so many, including both an exceptional crate and a high-grade one, so he never lacked for weapons.

Aside from the two in his hands, he still had a combat blade and a dagger stored in his spatial equipment.

“Brother, how about I trade you this lunchbox for one of your blades? You know, this lunchbox contains twenty rice balls, delicious and filling—just one is enough to keep you sated for a whole meal.”

The bearded man with a kindly face wasn’t as nice as he seemed. Trying to swap a lunchbox for a blade? He was clearly dreaming. The lunchbox might keep someone from starving for now, but weapons were the foundation for continued strength.

“Don’t listen to him, brother. Trading weapons for food is never a fair deal. How about you trade with me instead? I have a dagger, also from a crate—razor sharp. War blades are too heavy, you can’t swing them many times, unlike this nimble dagger.”

Someone from the third group stood forward—it was a frail-looking scholar, but the very fact he spoke for his team proved he wasn’t ordinary. For example, right now his mind was thinking:

[These fools—do they really believe someone who made it here alone and carries two blades can be simple? If you don’t offer something real, who would trade with you?]

The scholar’s proposal tempted Fang Xia for a moment, but the dagger was only a high-grade one with a blue glow—not the best, but better than nothing. He didn’t need it, but Bai Xing did.

He already had one dagger, but needed another, and he had four war blades—two extra and useless, so it made sense to trade one. But exchanging a rare war weapon for a high-grade one was still too much of a loss.

Fang Xia’s face remained impassive, though his gaze occasionally drifted toward the dagger, a look of indecision and interest.

[This kid is really hard to fool. Clearly tempted, but unwilling to trade—ambitious, indeed.]

“How about this, brother—I won’t let you suffer. One dagger plus a lunchbox for one of your blades, how does that sound?”

[You little brat, next time I catch you alone, you’ll regret it.]

Fang Xia’s expression was unchanged, even more hesitant and uncertain.

After two minutes, realizing there would be no better offers, Fang Xia finally nodded his agreement.

“Brother, bring the war blade over, and I’ll hand you the dagger and lunchbox.”

The scholar’s eyes flickered as he came up with another scheme.

[Come on—once you step over, I’ll signal my men to take you down. I doubt the other two groups would start a fight with me over such a small matter.]

“No need. Toss your items over, I’ll check them, and if everything’s fine, I’ll throw the blade to you. With so many of you, surely you’re not afraid I’ll cheat you alone?”

He would never step closer—if he entered their encirclement, even if the scheming scholar didn’t act, the other groups certainly would. He could read their intentions as clear as day.

Page (1/3)

“If you’re not willing, then I’ll leave. Night is coming soon, and if I don't get moving, things will get troublesome.”

The scholar cursed Fang Xia inwardly, but kept his face pleasant. There was nothing he could do if Fang Xia refused to approach.

As Fang Xia said, time was short.

Snagging this blade was already gain enough—an extra weapon meant more strength for his side, and tomorrow they could seek more airdrop crates.

“Xiao Wu, go, let this brother inspect the items.”

There was no way they’d just throw the items over; Fang Xia knew that too.

If they tossed them, Fang Xia would definitely bolt, and with zombies everywhere, who’d be afraid?

The man called Xiao Wu took the dagger and lunchbox from the scholar and carefully approached Fang Xia. The other groups just watched, making no move.

Opening the lunchbox revealed twenty rice balls, packed to the brim—no problem.

“The blade,” the scholar called from behind.

Xiao Wu handed over the dagger, his other hand reaching toward Fang Xia.

Quick as lightning, Fang Xia snatched the dagger and tossed the war blade forward.

“Deal done. I’m heading out.”

Xiao Wu flinched, failing to catch the war blade—sixty pounds was no easy feat.

The other groups moved swiftly, closing in—the trade for a war blade sparked a battle that was about to erupt.

None of this concerned Fang Xia anymore. He needed to return to the supermarket he’d come from and fill his ring, making sure to get back to the hotel before six o’clock.

After Fang Xia left, Bai Xing lounged lazily on the hotel sofa.

Before leaving, Fang Xia had given her his phone and dozens of power banks to keep her entertained.

A comfortable sofa, endless dramas to watch, soda and chips—life couldn’t be better.

An hour after Fang Xia departed, suspicious sounds came from the door.

Bai Xing immediately grew alert, put down her phone, and quietly approached the entrance.

Page (2/3)

“Brother Qiang, this door’s a pain to open. That kid won’t suddenly come back, right? He’s got two machetes.”

A chubby, sleazy man muttered.

“Cut the crap. Aren’t you the so-called best lockpicker in White City? If I hadn’t protected you, you’d have been locked away for decades. Now I ask you to pick a lock and you whine?”

Brother Qiang slapped the fat man’s face. According to the housekeeper, there was a ton of food and water inside—if they got this door open, they’d have no worries for a month.

“Fatty, focus on the lock. I’ve got the housekeeper watching outside, that kid won’t be back anytime soon.”

Inside, Bai Xing watched everything through the peephole—she hadn’t expected someone to actually try breaking in.

And from their conversation, it was clear someone knew Fang had stockpiled food, which drew them here.

What now? Fang probably wouldn’t return until evening. Even though the luxury suite had its special security system, breaking through was only a matter of time.

Bai Xing had no way out. If someone like her fell into their hands, the consequences were obvious.

All she could do now was stall.

“What do you want?”

She tried intimidation—if nothing else, it might buy some time.

The fat man’s hand froze mid-task, and his wire dropped to the floor.

“Brother Qiang, there’s someone inside.”

Before the apocalypse, the fat man had been a house thief. Discovering someone inside while picking a lock, his instinct was to flee.

So, as soon as he said this, he reflexively tried to run, but Brother Qiang grabbed him.

Two more slaps.

“Run? For what? Just a woman inside—once you open the door, she’s yours.”

Fatty’s interest piqued. The two attendants in the room were pretty, but he’d already had his fill—now he could get someone fresh, his motivation soared.

Page (3/3)