When I wake up, the world has completely fallen.
Under the streetlight outside the window, the living dead tore flesh and gnawed at the heart.
Mi Gao, a thirty-four-year-old ordinary homebody, is trapped on the second floor of an old residential building.
Downstairs, dozens of zombies surrounded the steps of the platform; outside the door, rotten monsters continued to hit the security door.
The tap water was contaminated, the food stored at home was only enough to last for one month, the Internet was completely disconnected, and all calls for help went unanswered.
An offline message on his computer made him shiver: There are only seventy-two hours left before the O virus mutates for the first time.
After the mutation, the speed of the zombies skyrocketed, their smell range expanded threefold, and they even knew how to hunt cooperatively.
No superpowers, no system, just a rebar and a few homemade spears.
He could only rely on the survival knowledge he had read in his previous life, sealing windows and cracks, setting traps, and breaking out to search for supplies.
The convoy was devoured by corpses in the streets, the survivors had hidden plots, and mutated beasts roamed the wilderness.
When a large-scale zombie wave swept through residential buildings, when a weak signal came from the distant survivor base.
Mi Gao clenched his weapon and stood in front of the window, looking down at the corpses coldly.
If you want to survive, you have to be more ruthless than zombies.
