Is there no justice left in this world?!

In the supermarket, three men, covered in blood, leaned against the rolling shutter door, gasping for breath.

Outside, the growls of zombies and the screeching sound of their nails scraping against the metal door continued relentlessly.

Yet, despite the chaos, the men were excited—they had finally made it into the supermarket.

"We did it!" one of them whispered, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Tony stood at the front, scanning the area, his mind filled with the desperate need for supplies.

But after a few seconds, his expression darkened.

"Wait a minute…" he muttered, his eyes suddenly sharp with suspicion.

The shelves were completely empty. There was nothing.

"Where… where's all the stuff?" he murmured, a hint of unease creeping into his voice.

The other two froze as well, their excitement vanishing in an instant, replaced by confusion and disappointment.

"Could someone have beaten us here?" one of them asked, puzzled.

"No way," Tony shook his head, his voice low and firm. "Even if someone had been here, there's no way they could've cleaned the place out this thoroughly."

Gripping the fire axe in his hand, Tony strode deeper into the supermarket, checking every corner.

As they searched, their initial excitement slowly gave way to frustration.

The storage room was completely empty, not even a single hair left behind.

"Damn it!" Derek roared, swinging his crowbar and smashing it into a nearby shelf, venting his anger. They had fought tooth and nail to get here, losing two teammates along the way, only to find nothing.

"Calm down, Derek!" Tony quickly stepped in, his voice carrying a warning. "You're just going to attract more zombies if you keep that up."

Derek was breathing heavily, like an enraged bull, his eyes filled with frustration.

"We're out of options, Tony!" he growled through gritted teeth, his voice thick with despair.

Tony didn't respond immediately. He frowned, lost in thought.

After a moment, a glimmer of realization flashed in his eyes.

"Not necessarily," he said slowly. "The fact that this place is so thoroughly cleaned out… it wasn't done by just any survivors. I'm guessing the owner of this supermarket was prepared."

"You mean…" Derek and the younger guy holding a frying pan exchanged glances, starting to catch on.

"Yeah," Tony nodded. "I've been to this supermarket before. The owner lives in the building across the street."

A flicker of hope appeared in Derek's eyes. He tightened his grip on the crowbar, his voice resolute: "Then let's go find him!"

Tony nodded in agreement. "Exactly. If he's hoarding supplies, we'll take them."

The guy with the frying pan hesitated for a moment, but seeing the determination in Tony and Derek's eyes, he clenched his jaw and nodded. "Alright."

They had seen Tony and Derek in action on their journey here. They knew that with their strength, taking on a supermarket owner wouldn't be a problem.

Or, if they were lucky, the owner might already be a zombie. In that case, all they'd have to do is take him out and claim the supplies.

…

About ten minutes later, the zombies gathered around the supermarket door began to disperse, wandering aimlessly. The rolling shutter door was quietly lifted just enough for the three men to slip out, moving with careful, silent precision.

Covered in dirt and grime, their eyes alert, they quickly oriented themselves and made their way toward the building across the street.

"Just as I thought…" Ethan murmured to himself, standing by the window, a slight smirk playing on his lips. He had anticipated that they would make this move, and he had watched everything unfold.

But for him, this was a perfect opportunity.

It looked like the delivery had come straight to his door.

…

With the building's power out, the elevator wasn't working, so the three men had no choice but to take the stairs.

Climbing forty-two floors drained their energy fast, especially since they encountered a few stray zombies in the stairwell.

Though they were skilled fighters and easily dispatched the zombies, by the time they reached the top floor, they were drenched in sweat, gasping for air.

"Huff… huff… this should be it," Tony panted, turning to Derek. "Go knock on the door."

Derek, already impatient, stepped forward and pounded on the door with all his strength.

BANG BANG BANG! BANG BANG BANG!

"Open up! Open the damn door!" His roar echoed down the hallway.

Inside, Ethan wasn't in any rush. He was calmly washing his hands, his movements slow and deliberate.

After finishing, he picked up a towel, gently dried his hands, and then grabbed a pristine white napkin from the table, tucking it neatly into his collar.

It was time for dinner.

"I know you're in there! If you don't open up, we're breaking this door down!" Tony shouted, raising his fire axe, his eyes cold and menacing. "You've got three seconds to decide! 3… 2… 1!"

The bloodstained axe was about to come crashing down.

But just then, there was a soft click.

The door swung open.

Bright light spilled out from inside, revealing a tall figure. The young man had pale skin, sharp features, and was strikingly handsome.

He wore a spotless white shirt, not a speck of dirt on it, with a napkin tucked into his collar, looking impossibly clean.

Tony and the others stared, dumbfounded.

Since the apocalypse began, they hadn't seen anyone this clean.

But what really unsettled them was the look in his eyes—cold, devoid of any emotion, and… humanity.

"You're the supermarket owner, right?" Tony demanded.

Ethan didn't respond. He stood there in silence.

The other two, growing anxious, chimed in.

"Don't play dumb! We know you've got supplies. Hand them over, and we'll let you go!"

"Yeah! You've got a napkin tucked in your collar—you were about to eat, weren't you?"

"Say something, dammit!!!"

…

At that moment, Ethan slowly opened his mouth.

"Graaah—graaaah—"

A low, raspy growl, like the sound of air bubbling through his throat, came out.

The three men froze.

They stood there, completely stunned.

"What the hell? A zombie?!"

In their minds, zombies were always grotesque, terrifying, and filthy. But this guy—so clean, so composed—was actually a zombie?

It was hard to believe.

"Well, if he's a zombie, that makes things easier. We'll just take him out!" Tony gripped his fire axe tighter. In his experience, killing a zombie was way easier than dealing with a human.

The other two nodded, ready to strike.

But then, footsteps echoed down the hallway. Ethan's earlier growl had summoned his backup.

"Huh? More zombies?" Tony tensed, but he wasn't too worried. After all, they'd fought their way here and had plenty of experience.

Judging by the footsteps, there weren't many.

The three of them were wrapped in layers of newspaper and duct tape, making them nearly impervious to small groups of zombies. They could handle this.

Sure enough, three zombie figures appeared at the end of the hallway.

But what they saw next made their blood run cold.

Each of the zombies was holding something.

"Wait… is that…?"

Tony and the others squinted, realizing something was very wrong. When they got a closer look, their faces went pale.

"Crossbows?!"

Click!

The three zombies raised their crossbows in unison, aiming directly at Tony and his crew.

"What the hell?!"

Tony shouted in disbelief, completely stunned.

He never could've imagined…

Zombies using weapons!

The three of them quickly realized these weren't ordinary zombies. They weren't rushing in to bite—they were acting like they'd been trained.

"Are you kidding me?! Zombies with crossbows? Is there no justice left in this world?!"

…