Mu Shan woke up just as dawn was breaking.
She fumbled for the water glass on the bedside table, barely soothing the itch in her throat.
A few minutes later, the sound of running water echoed through the empty house. Mu Shan pressed the button on the kettle, brushing her teeth while habitually turning on the TV.
The beautiful anchorwoman’s face was grave: “According to statistics, approximately five million people vanished nationwide last week. Emergency rescue teams found no clues about the missing. Over the past year, the cumulative number of missing people nationwide has reached 410 million…”
It hadn’t been this anchorwoman on TV last week.
Mu Shan wiped her face with a towel and subconsciously glanced toward the master bedroom. The door there stood open, perpetually silent.
Her parents had mysteriously disappeared a year ago, just like the 400 million people reported on the news—as if they had evaporated on the spot.
Then it was other relatives, classmates, teachers…
In the end, only she remained.
Mu Shan opened her phone and habitually sent a message to her parents and that person on WeChat: Good morning.
Scrolling up hundreds of messages, they were all from her, with no replies.
The noise of traffic began to rise from the street outside the window. Mu Shan lowered her head, covering her mouth to stifle a few coughs.
She had caught a cold.
But in this society now, if she didn’t take good care of herself, no one would worry about her.
A year and a half ago, the world experienced its first large-scale population disappearance. In just twelve hours, nearly twenty million people vanished globally, spanning 193 countries.
Governments pulled out their most classified technologies, international alliances formed frontlines, and experts from every nation worked day and night, yet they found not a single clue.
Thereafter, every week, the world lost populations in the tens of millions. By now, the cumulative total had reached a billion.
The theory most supported by experts was the “alien technology hypothesis,” positing that the missing had been teleported to other planets as labor, with a chance of survival.
But no one believed the experts.
“Disappearance” had become a sword hanging over every ordinary person’s head.
For a time, looting, plundering, theft—crime rates rose in a branching upward trend. From shock, fear, resistance, madness, to gradual resignation, it had only taken a little over a year.
Now, many industries lacked workers, forcing a slew of factories and companies to shut down.
But it also gave rise to extreme religions and theoretical schools.
Regardless, those who still existed had to keep living.
The water boiled, and the kettle let out a gurgle gurgle sound. Mu Shan reached for her cup when suddenly a wave of dizziness hit her mind.
The ceramic cup slipped from her hand and smashed on the floor with a crack, shattering into countless pieces.
It took Mu Shan a good while to recover from the dizziness.
She opened her eyes to find herself sitting in a narrow, filthy alley, wearing only a set of coral fleece pajamas, nothing else.
In an instant, her body had shifted locations.
She had no idea where this was. Strange cries echoed from the distance, interspersed with the occasional massive explosion.
Mu Shan looked around front and back. The alley was empty of people, with only a few haphazardly stacked cardboard boxes—offering no sense of security whatsoever.
Yet in her heart, there was a strange sense of relief: “Finally, it’s my turn.”
Mu Shan steadied herself against the wall and stood up. At that moment, a square, transparent dialog box appeared before her eyes.
【Welcome to the Main God Space.
Player physical condition: Poor
Proficient sports: None
Health status: Sick
Player initial rating: Cannon Fodder】
【Cannon Fodder Player 537099, you have entered the newbie instance [Zombie Siege]
Main Quest: Survive 20 days in the current instance
Quest success grants rewards
Quest failure results in character death
Note: Newbie protection—no penalty for not completing side quests】
The virtual dialog box made no sound. After confirming that Mu Shan had read all the text, it vanished abruptly.
At that point, she noticed a line of small red text in the upper right of her vision: “Main Quest (Day 1)”.
Mu Shan felt a bit puzzled. The main quest was to survive, not to serve as labor for aliens. It seemed no matter the time, experts couldn’t be trusted.
She hugged the wall and crept forward carefully. Suddenly, a woman’s piercing scream came from outside the alley.
“Aaahhh! Is anyone there—!”
Chaotic footsteps and cries for help—the voice wasn’t far.
Mu Shan quickly took two steps as one, crouching down to hide behind the stacked cardboard boxes. She peeked out with both eyes and saw a stylishly dressed young woman fleeing for her life past the alley mouth.
Though it was just a flash, Mu Shan made out the high heels and fur coat—completely out of place in a zombie wasteland. This was almost certainly another newbie just teleported into the instance.
And this newbie, perhaps just returning from an all-night clubbing session, hadn’t grasped her situation yet. She ran screaming wildly, panicked and directionless.
Mu Shan didn’t impulsively step out. She crouched silently behind the boxes and waited about twenty seconds. Sure enough, a group of crookedly shambling “people” charged past the alley mouth, roaring as they chased after the woman.
At first glance, they looked like ordinary people, clothed in pants and shirts. But without exception, their skin was dark blue, eyes rolled back, bodies bearing varying degrees of bloody, mangled wounds—some missing arms or legs, guts spilling out.
Facing these things in person for the first time was even more terrifying than in movies or shows.
She didn’t dare look closely.
Amid the zombies’ various “grrr haha” growls, Mu Shan covered her mouth and nose, waiting for the horde to pass without making a sound.
【Death Warning Activated
Current instance remaining survival time: 5 min 10 sec
Please strive to survive, player】
Bold red letters flashed overhead, “tick-tock, tick-tock,” as if counting down her life.
“Grr—ha grr—”
Though most of the zombie horde had been lured away by the newbie, a few slower ones lagged behind, shambling forward on bloody instinct.
Mu Shan watched the countdown tick away second by second, clenching her fists, her mind racing.
From newspapers plastered on the alley walls, this city had begun reporting “strange disease infections,” “unified culling of strays,” and “stay-home protections” a month ago.
【4 min 56 sec】
A central city district with a million residents wouldn’t take half a month from initial outbreak to total silence.
Was this the world her parents had been swept into?
She wasn’t sure whether the Main God System’s intent was “horror entertainment” using humans or “ability selection.”
【4 min 50 sec】
The zombies at the alley mouth gradually thinned out.
If she only had five minutes to live, it would be far too low “game participation” for the Main God System.
Then the evaporated population on Earth shouldn’t have been just a billion, but six billion.
【4 min 45 sec】
Having made up her mind, Mu Shan quietly backed up a few steps. The blood-red countdown overhead showed no change.
She turned around, eyeing the only cardboard boxes in the alley.
Considering newbies had quest privileges, the five-minute survival time couldn’t be the system’s deadline for her. Though weak, this wasn’t her physical limit either.
The only possibility: survival time for this location!
The system wasn’t sentencing her to death—it was warning her.
Almost the instant Mu Shan touched the cardboard boxes, the dialog box reappeared.
【Virtual Backpack activated and bound
Backpack cannot hold living creatures
Player death causes backpack items to drop】
Inside the boxes were scattered torn hard cardboard packaging, some broken foam blocks, a few plastic bags, and a nearly depleted roll of yellow packing tape.
Mu Shan didn’t expect to find weapons at a “spawn point.” She picked up a few relatively intact hard cardboard pieces, flattened them forcefully, and carefully bound them to her forearms with the remaining tape.
She tied her hair back with a hair tie, tucking the braid into her collar to keep it from falling out.
Her coral fleece pajamas were loose and warm but hindered movement.
Mu Shan rolled up the hood in back, wrapped it around her neck once, and secured it in front somehow. She tucked the shirt hem into her waistband—even if it looked ugly.
She aimed to avoid sudden grabs from behind or exposing vulnerable body parts.
All the while, Mu Shan stayed completely silent, not even making a sound when tearing the tape.
She didn’t discard the remaining cardboard boxes either, storing them in the virtual backpack, which showed “Cardboard Boxes x3” occupying 1 slot.
Two minutes had passed, but a few straggling zombies still limped slowly at the alley mouth. She had no idea where that stylish woman had fled— at least, the screams had stopped.
【3 min 10 sec】 Only two zombies milling about now.
【2 min 41 sec】 She stared expressionlessly at the last one, a middle-aged woman zombie with only one and a half legs.
Without a weapon, she had patience in abundance.
Fortunately, that zombie seemed drawn by some noise elsewhere. It dragged its mangled leg away limpingly. After another 15 seconds ticked down, the alley mouth held no obvious threats.
Mu Shan seized the moment, crouching low as she darted out, racing across the street to hide in an unmanned convenience store she had already scouted opposite.
The overhead crimson text refreshed.
【Current instance remaining survival time: 10 min 06 sec】
She had guessed right.
Mu Shan quietly exhaled. Only then did she realize cold sweat had soaked her back.
The convenience store door had been smashed open by external force. Inside, it had clearly been ransacked multiple times by survivors—trash and debris littered the floor.
Mu Shan didn’t get discouraged. She searched meticulously, missing no corner.
The cigarette counter was cleaned out, but she found a plastic lighter under the cash register keyboard. She tested it—it still lit.
Stepping carefully around shattered glass shards, Mu Shan dug out a half-crushed pack of Little Raccoon instant noodles from a corner and a Sprite bottle that had rolled under a shelf undetected.
She had to lie flat on the ground to fish out the Sprite.
The daily goods section still had a broom and a few unopened kitchen rags. Mu Shan promptly stored them.
The collapsed shelves were stainless steel. She carefully pried off an iron rod, deeming it barely usable as a weapon.
Convenience stores were prime spots for post-apocalypse survivors to scavenge. Now in the late stages of disaster in this city, usable items were scarce.
Still, Mu Shan followed the principle of wasting nothing usable. She turned the place upside down and even took the shop owner’s plastic stool on her way out.
To the right of the convenience store was an empty study room, originally not stocked with supplies and relatively clean inside. Mu Shan stayed alert to surrounding noises, exploring cautiously.
The study room’s self-service water station was spotless—not even a green tea packet left. But behind the desks and chairs, Mu Shan found two sponge seat cushions, a canvas schoolbag left by a student, and a pack of unopened disposable paper cups.
She brushed off the dust. Useful or not, everything went into her pack.
Next, in the study room bathroom, she discovered a bottle of toilet cleaner that was eight-tenths full. But when trying to store it, she got a 【Backpack Full】 prompt.
Mu Shan realized even a single lighter occupied a full slot. The ten-slot backpack couldn’t hold much.
She thought for a moment, took out the lighter, instant noodles, and other sundries, stuffed them into the canvas schoolbag, then put the bag back in the backpack.
The next instant, the virtual dialog box appeared again.
【Cannon Fodder Player 537099, profession unlocked: Collector
To you, scavenging is a form of collecting
Excavate the utility value of every item like a locust swarm, hoard wherever you survive】
【Player unlocked skill: Trash Sorting
Even trash must learn to line up
(Passive) Backpack slots increased by 50%, same-type items auto-stack in backpack, max quantity 50.】