Chapter 28: Traps

At those words, the crowd quickly calmed down. Those who hadn’t yet made it downstairs hurried to hide on either side of the door.

Seeing someone get injured only made people angrier. A few who were hiding by the door stood in the blind spot of the arrows and started hammering at the door even harder.

“Smash down their damn door!”

A few others started prying at the door of apartment 1502 across the hall:

“Both of them are in 1501, so 1502 must be empty—maybe it’s full of supplies!”

At the mention of supplies, their efforts to break in grew several times more intense.

Others who had retreated to the stairs, afraid of getting shot by arrows, shouted encouragement from a distance. For a moment, it was a scene of everyone working together.

Suddenly, an angry shout came from inside the apartment: “You idiots! I spared your lives and you didn’t want it—now I’m not holding back!”

Sun Peng, who was hiding in the corner watching the door being battered, felt a bad premonition and hurriedly retreated toward the stairs.

Just then, the shooting port on the door suddenly closed, followed by the sound of machinery whirring.

From where the shooting port had been, a hard, thick tube popped out. With a “pssst” sound, a large amount of liquid sprayed out of the tube.

“Ah!!”

“Aah! My face, it burns!”

Everyone still on the 15th floor was splashed by the unknown liquid. With a sizzling sound, the skin it touched was instantly corroded, turning a horrifying black.

“Sulfuric acid! It’s concentrated sulfuric acid!”

Panic broke out. Two people closest to the door were severely burned, collapsing to the ground clutching their faces and howling in pain.

Others, less seriously injured, retreated toward the stairs, crying as they went.

Those who had already been standing on the stairs looked at the miserable scene in terror: Thank goodness I didn’t stay on the 15th floor!

Sun Peng had retreated quickly, making it to the stairs before the acid sprayed, and escaped unscathed. Even so, his face was pale and sweat beaded on his forehead.

In just a short while, one person had been killed by arrows, four wounded, two people lay on the ground from the acid—dead or alive unknown—and five more were injured.

The group of about twenty had lost half its strength, and they hadn’t even gotten through Zhao Ping’an’s door.

The acid-spraying tube slowly retracted, and from inside came the wild, arrogant voice of the “crazy auntie”:

“You bunch of idiots, if anyone dares take another step, I’ll show you what ‘no survivors’ really means!”

Everyone’s faces were grim, but no one dared step forward.

You can survive a few days with an empty stomach, but getting splashed with concentrated sulfuric acid is no joke!

Never mind how agonizing the burns were—the worst part was that there were no medicines now. All you could do was wait for the wounds to get infected and rot, and die slowly.

The two people on the ground were quickly carried home by their families.

The rest, though unwilling, could only leave in defeat.

Inside 1501, Hu Cuilan patted her son on the shoulder with a smile.

“Not bad, kid! That trap you built worked great! I’m proud of you!”

Zhao Ping’an pouted. “Who was it before who said I was wasting my time? Said I read too many apocalypse novels and was just messing up the house for nothing.”

Hu Cuilan glared at him. “Enough nonsense! Go out and check if anyone’s still outside. If not, hurry up and fix the hallway door!”

“Yes, Mother Dearest.”

Zhao Ping’an bowed dramatically, imitating a court lady from ancient times.

Hu Cuilan kicked him in annoyance.

She glanced at the mess by the door and muttered, “The kid was right after all. Is the end of the world really here?”

Seeing how crazed those people had just been, if they hadn’t still been able to speak, she’d have thought it was a zombie siege!

She and her son hadn’t left the apartment for days, watching as the world outside grew more and more chaotic.

Luckily, her son was a doomsday survival enthusiast. Not only did they have a generator at home, but they’d also stockpiled tons of compressed biscuits and drinking water.

He’d even converted the two spare bedrooms in 1502 into storerooms, packed with all sorts of long-lasting food, rotating out expired items every year.

On the day the torrential rain hit, she’d happened to buy a bunch of vegetable seeds.

In her son’s words: “People with anger issues should nurture seedlings to cultivate patience and soothe their mood.”

Zhao Ping’an had even custom-made grow lights and planting boxes for her.

Who’d have thought they’d come in so handy?

Now, they had all kinds of homegrown vegetables and plenty of stored food—enough to last for years.

She looked at her son, busy repairing the hallway door, and called out, “Take it seriously! Maybe wire this door too—electrocute those bastards if they try anything!”

Then she thought to herself: From now on, when the kid tinkers with his gadgets and experiments, I won’t scold him anymore.

All that “fooling around” turned out to be really useful.

...

An Nan lay against her own door, munching on chips as she listened to the commotion outside.

There were shouts of “arrows!” and “sulfuric acid!” echoing in the hallway, and she could pretty much piece together what had happened.

She recalled seeing Zhao Ping’an’s article online before: “Twenty Possible Ways the Apocalypse Could Begin.”

She couldn’t help but sigh—this guy really was a genius.

He’d come up with so many tricks, turning the 15th floor into a veritable doomsday fortress.

It was worth learning from.

Unfortunately, she was a bit lopsided in her studies—good at the humanities, but hopeless at physics and chemistry.

As for electrified doors and such, she wouldn’t dare mess with them—she’d probably end up electrocuting herself.

She had managed to collect a lot of concentrated sulfuric acid in the building, along with a bunch of other chemicals she couldn’t even name.

But she had no idea how to build traps. What was that acid-spraying tube made of, anyway? Why didn’t it get corroded?

Oh well, when God opens a door for you, He closes a window somewhere else.

She might not know how to make traps, but with her “inventory space” cheat, she was already more than satisfied.

She’d just have to make do.

Fugui, sitting by An Nan’s feet, stared up at her with wide doggy eyes, seeing her aggrieved expression.

Sister Nan, are you humble-bragging to yourself again?

...

The neighbors, having been thoroughly humiliated, returned to Sun Peng’s apartment.

Those who were seriously injured, along with their families, had already gone home. The rest were either lightly injured or just badly shaken.

The atmosphere in the room was heavy.

Bai Wenbin and Qian Yinger, the brother and sister who’d been hiding at the back the whole time, hadn’t been hurt, but they weren’t in good shape either.

Bai Wenbin was pale, unshaven, and looked completely drained.

After so many days of hunger, the once well-groomed, refined Bai Wenbin was a shadow of his former self.

Now, all he could think about was stuffing his face.

Qian Yinger was in even worse shape.

Her once-beautifully dyed blonde hair, which she’d carefully maintained to keep smooth and shiny, was now a tangled, straw-like mess.

She’d been hungry for days, with no nutrition, and had run out of hair products long ago.

She’d always been slim, but now, after going hungry for a while, her face was sallow and sunken, and she hadn’t even gotten her period this month.

She looked like a dried-up mummy.

Whenever she thought of the last time she’d seen An Nan—radiant and full of life—Qian Yinger ground her teeth in envy.

Why did An Nan always get to live so well?

Why did she always have to look up to her?

A flash of malice appeared in Qian Yinger’s eyes. Suddenly, she said, “Neighbors, why don’t we go down to the 14th floor and look for An Nan?”"