Back at the apartment complex, he parked the little yellow bycicle properly.
Home again.
It was empty and quiet, but he was used to that by now. At least now there was electricity, running water, and he could even surf the internet occasionally. Aside from how hard it was to run into other normal people outside, there weren't many big changes.
"If only the little assistant could talk, that'd be nice."
He really wanted someone to talk to. Unfortunately, there was no one. Even when he did meet people, their mental states were often unstable—irritable and quick to anger.
He didn't usually pay much attention to the little assistant. He had never been all that interested in it.
He checked his points.
There were quite a lot.
Time to assign some points. Besides Strength, he added a bit to Stamina and Speed—not because he had some deep strategy, but simply to keep things balanced.
Ding!
The system chimed as he added points.
As the stats increased, he felt a strange warmth flowing through his body, spreading to every part of him and causing subtle changes.
His abdomen felt tight.
He lifted his shirt to take a look—and was surprised to see his flat belly had developed into defined abs.
Not bad at all.
He checked his profile:
Name: Lam Pham
Strength: 40 (Superhuman)
Stamina: 20 (Standard)
Speed: 15 (Standard)
Points: 0
He clenched his fist—the power was undeniable. A single punch didn't look fast, but it packed serious weight.
"I can't just go around hitting people," Lam Pham thought. "One punch from me would probably flatten them."
The weather was still early morning, the air surprisingly fresh—not an illusion. Likely due to the drastic drop in traffic and pollution, Earth was regaining its vitality.
He poured a cup of tea, grabbed a book, and stepped onto the balcony—sipping tea, reading, and occasionally glancing at the distant scenery.
The view had changed drastically from before.
It used to be bustling, filled with people and chatter.
Now, silence reigned.
Time passed by quietly.
Suddenly—
There was noise downstairs.
Lam Pham put his book down and walked to the balcony, looking down.
Two survivors ran out of the complex.
"Ah Ming, help me!" the girl screamed, panicked and desperate.
She had fallen to the ground, and a zombie was chasing right behind. She reached out to her boyfriend, hoping for rescue.
"This is all your fault! If you hadn't insisted on opening the door, this wouldn't have happened!" Ah Ming yelled.
He didn't stop—just turned and ran.
They made quite a commotion.
It drew the attention of zombies lurking in the shadows. A large group gathered, a real threat—even Lam Pham would have to back off if caught in that.
"Too late now," Lam Pham shook his head.
The girl was swarmed. Her screams rang out, then gradually faded away.
As for the guy running away, it was uncertain whether he'd escape. These zombies weren't slow—they were freakishly fast, and no regular human could match their endurance or speed.
Five Days Later
Each day passed with a routine. Whenever he needed something, he'd head to the downstairs supermarket. There was even a nearby food market to meet basic needs.
Sunlight filtered through the window into his room.
"A new day begins." Lam Pham opened his eyes and got up quickly. He washed up and tidied himself up.
He always knew that while looks were inborn, first impressions were shaped by grooming.
If you're handsome but messy, people will still judge you.
If you're plain-looking and messy? They'll definitely see you as sloppy.
But just a bit of tidying could give off a good impression.
A slice of bread and a cup of milk—breakfast was done.
"Feeling full is a kind of happiness," he smiled, packed up, and took the elevator downstairs to work out.
This was part of his daily routine—no matter how busy or occupied he was, he always made time to train.
"A little more... just a little more…"
He stretched to the left, then the right. The air was so fresh.
In Another Building, Fourth Floor
"I don't want to die…" a man muttered weakly from his balcony.
He was swaying, frail, and his face was sunken.
He hadn't eaten in a long time—only surviving on small sips of water.
He regretted it. Why hadn't he learned to cook? Why hadn't he stocked up?
Now that it was real, it was too late for regret.
Every night was torment. The smallest noise would make his nerves tense up, and he stayed in a constant state of alert.
Over time, his mental state started deteriorating.
His blurry vision landed on Lam Pham working out below.
"Help…"
Thud!
The man collapsed. He couldn't even lift a finger. His consciousness sank into darkness.
Too scared to go out for food, he starved to death in his home.
Half an Hour Later
Lam Pham finished his workout. Time to prep lunch.
Leaving the apartment complex—
"Another unusually quiet day."
He walked to the market.
A rotten stench filled the air.
It had started a few days ago.
Bzzzz!
At the meat stall, the pork was rotting, swarmed by flies.
"What a waste," he muttered.
But there was nothing he could do. It was already spoiled. Eating it would likely cause food poisoning—or worse.
You could even see maggots wriggling in the meat.
Disgusting.
As time passed, all food was going bad fast.
Even though the supermarket still had dry goods, you had to pay for everything. How long could he keep buying with what he had?
He didn't have a mine at home—money wasn't infinite.
If only he could grow his own food—maybe that was the better path.
He walked from stall to stall, checking for any produce that wasn't spoiled.
To his surprise, he found a perfect pumpkin—not rotten, no blemishes.
As long as it wasn't cut and stored in a cool, ventilated place, pumpkins could last up to two months.
The stall owner wasn't there, but that was okay.
Lam Pham knew the prices. He just scanned the QR code to pay.
He selected carefully—
One pumpkin, a winter melon, some carrots, and a bunch of spinach. All fresh.
Better to buy more now—food spoiled quickly these days.
You never knew when the electricity would go out. Without power, preserving food would become nearly impossible.
After paying, he packed his ingredients and continued browsing.
He scoured every stall for unspoiled goods.
But after so many days, fresh produce was rare.
Then suddenly—
He was pleasantly surprised.
At the seafood stall, in a murky red bucket, a softshell turtle was still alive, barely moving.
"What incredible willpower. Still alive at this point. Turtle soup must taste amazing."
He was tempted.
But he quickly gave up the idea.
"No... can't afford to be that extravagant. This thing looks wild. Probably costs hundreds."
"I don't even have a job right now. What a pain."
After some consideration, he shook his head and walked away.
Too poor.
Just because you want something doesn't mean you get to have it.
He left the market with a decent haul.
Three pumpkins, four winter melons, some carrots, and spinach.
"This'll last for today, tomorrow, and the day after. Good enough for now."
Self-sufficiency was key.
No matter how tough life got, he had to face it with effort.
He headed home with his groceries.
Weeds had already begun sprouting through the cracks in the pavement. If left alone, in a few months or a year, this whole city would be overtaken by nature.
"Hello there."
At that moment, a weak voice came from a third-floor window of a nearby apartment.
It was a woman—likely in her late thirties or early forties. She looked exhausted, her hair messy, with dark circles under her eyes, completely drained.
But even so, her beauty was still faintly visible.
"Hello," Lam Pham stopped and responded politely.
She had spoken respectfully, so he responded in kind.
"Is something the matter?"
He could tell she needed something.
"Could you help me?" the woman, Li Mai, said weakly.
During this time, she had been on the verge of collapse. If not for her ten-year-old daughter, she wouldn't have had the will to go on.
Outside, people had gone mad—devouring each other.
She had watched her husband get killed by a group right outside the building. The worst part was, after he died, he stood up again—shambling around like the rest, attacking anyone in sight.
Since then, she and her daughter had stayed hidden in their home, surviving on whatever food remained.
But two days ago, the food ran out.
She had seen many people during this time. Once, she almost called out for help—but to her horror, she saw them throw a beautiful young woman out of a shop.
She knew that woman—she was the owner's wife. Young, pretty, looked like a celebrity.
Right before her eyes, that woman was assaulted.
Since then, she didn't dare say a word.
But now, there was no choice.
They had nothing left to eat.
She didn't fear dying—but she couldn't bear to see her daughter die.
Even if she had to be assaulted herself, she just wanted her daughter to survive.
"What can I help you with?" Lam Pham asked.
His voice wasn't too loud, but not too soft either.
Li Mai panicked. Why was he speaking so loudly? What if he attracted zombies?
She looked around—no movement. She breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe they were lucky—no zombies nearby.
"Could you spare us some food?" she pleaded.
At this point, she could only pin her hopes on him.
"Just a little… My daughter hasn't eaten in days. Please…"
She saw the food in his hands, but didn't dare ask for much. Just a little.
Lam Pham replied, "You're afraid of the zombies, right? That's why you've been hiding all this time? No problem. I bought plenty. Even if I didn't have any left, I could go out and buy more."
"I'll sell you two pumpkins and two winter melons."
He was happy to help those who sincerely asked. But after all, he had bought the food with his own money—if they wanted it, he'd sell it.
Li Mai was stunned.
Even in her exhausted state, she looked surprised. She didn't expect someone young like him to ask for money.
In times like these...
Was money still even useful?
Just then, a little girl peeked out from behind Li Mai. She looked healthy—unlike her mother.
It was clear the mother had given all the food to her child.
"Wait here. I'll bring it to your door. Oh, right—one pumpkin cost me thirty-six yuan, so two is seventy-two. The winter melons were cheaper—twenty each, so forty total. Just give me a hundred," Lam Pham said.
He figured if he was delivering, he could charge a little for the effort.
He didn't wait for her response.
With the vegetables in hand, he headed to their building.
That's how business worked.
And survival too—sometimes, it depended on service.
He knocked gently on the door.
On the way there, he had encountered a few zombies, which he handled with ease. Even a casual kick sent them flying several meters away—truly terrifying.
Thump thump!
Li Mai heard the knock. She knew that in times like these, opening the door for a stranger was extremely dangerous.
She understood how dark human nature could be.
No one really knew what kind of heart lay beneath a seemingly harmless exterior.
But she had no choice. For her child—even if opening this door led straight to hell—she wouldn't hesitate. She had already mentally prepared herself to risk everything.
Nervously, with trembling hands, she slowly opened the security door.
"Here you go—your pumpkin and squash. A total of one hundred yuan. I accept both cash and transfers."
Lam Pham smiled warmly as he spoke.
Li Mai was a little surprised. She had thought that standing at the entrance might be risky—if a zombie noticed them, it could be disastrous.
"Come in first," she said quickly.
"Sure, alright."
He would never enter someone's home without permission.
But now that she had invited him in, there was no issue.
Inside the room, he placed the squash and pumpkin neatly on the table.
"Thank you so much, truly. I'm very grateful," Li Mai said sincerely. In this moment of despair, hope had appeared, and she couldn't help but kneel in gratitude.
That pumpkin and squash were literal lifelines for her and her daughter.
"No need to thank me. Everyone has tough times. We all live under the same sky." Lam Pham helped her up, curiously glancing around the apartment. He waved at the timid little girl hiding behind her mother.
The child shrank back, peeking shyly from behind Li Mai.
Li Mai was overwhelmed with gratitude. This young man, Lam Pham, looked just like an angel to her.
He radiated warmth.
He was the only person she had seen so far who still shone with human kindness.
At that moment, Lam Pham was drawn to something hanging on the wall—a replica weapon.
"Whoa, that's a realistic Frostmourne replica! I've seen this on websites before, but I never thought I'd see one in person."
He was stunned.
Li Mai looked at the sword and said, "My husband bought that. He really loved his hobbies, so he spent a lot of money on it. It's a high-quality replica toy."
Thinking of her husband made her want to cry. He had spent tens of thousands on that replica weapon. At the time, she'd scolded him, saying he was crazy—what could a fake sword possibly be good for?
But now… there was no chance to say anything anymore.
"If you like it, take it," Li Mai said. "It's dangerous out there. A weapon like that might make things a little safer for you."
Lam Pham quickly waved her off. "I can't accept that. If you give it to me, what will you use?"
Li Mai said, "It's just me and my daughter—we don't need it. You need it more than we do. Consider it a thank-you for the food you brought us."
Hearing that made Lam Pham feel a bit guilty.
He'd already charged her a hundred yuan, and now she wanted to give him this high-end replica?
It was obvious this wasn't something he could afford on his own.
"How about this," Lam Pham offered. "I know this thing is expensive—I definitely can't afford it. But from now on, I'll bring you food without charging anything."
Li Mai stared at him blankly.
"Can I ask you something?" she said. "Why do you still care about money at a time like this?"
Lam Pham looked confused. "Isn't paying for what you buy just... normal?"
Li Mai: …
A moment passed.
"I'll get going," Lam Pham said. "You and your daughter stay safe. Always keep hope alive—it might come tonight, or later, but it will come. If anything happens, just call me. I'm always around."
He waved goodbye, closed the door behind him, and walked away.
Helping others brought joy—and right now, he felt truly happy.
Of course, he was self-aware.
He wasn't a superhero. He wasn't a saint. Just a regular guy trying to live his life under the sun. All he could do was what was within his power—and to him, that was enough.
To help others—even in small ways—was a gift in itself.
And people who helped others often found good fortune.
He looked at the Frostmourne in his hands.
Was it cool?
Absolutely.
Slicing up zombies with this would feel amazing.