Departure  

"Ah!" A startled scream came from the neighboring room, indicating that the person had been frightened by Clark's gruesome act. The sound of the door locking quickly followed.

Clark smiled faintly. It seemed like the intimidation tactic had worked well. Naked displays of power were effective. Although the repaired iron door was sufficient to block ordinary zombies, it couldn't stop humans.

After the apocalypse erupted, human nature became unpredictable. In his past life, Clark had seen too many examples of people doing terrible things to survive: siblings turning on each other, cannibalism, and betrayal among couples.

As long as he could ensure the safety of Viola and Dirk, he didn't mind getting his hands dirty, and he had even considered whether he should eliminate all the residents in the building.

  If it weren't for the uncertainty of whether there were any acquaintances of Viola and Dirk in the building, there would only be two survivors left in the building now. 

However, as long as it wasn't an unfortunate encounter with a mutant or malicious humans, Clark wasn't concerned about ordinary zombies threatening the siblings. There was an ample supply of food and water inside the room, enough to sustain them for a month. 

The supplies piled up in the room were all types of military rations that Clark had instructed Dirk to purchase in advance before the apocalypse. Thinking of this, Clark remembered the batch of supplies he had purchased in advance, worth over two million dollars.

  It included a complete set of equipment, weapons, medicines, and everything they needed for survival. However, he didn't know if the delivery had arrived at the location he specified after he had fallen into a coma. If these supplies were still available, Clark could easily assemble a team and establish a safe zone with just these resources. 

In the late stages of the apocalypse, it was difficult to survive on one's own. Only by building one's own faction could they secure a foothold in this apocalyptic world. Clark sighed softly. Being in a coma for three days had indeed disrupted many of his plans. Moreover, there were many rare items and equipment from his memories that he had not yet obtained. Nevertheless, it wasn't too late to retrieve them now.

HY Residential Complex Gate:

The night before, Clark had already devised a plan for his next actions. In the first six days, he would search for the special items and equipment from his past life's memories and aim to kill one mutant to increase his level. Without enough strength, no matter how urgent his plans were, they would be futile. In the following three days, he would focus on killing "The Stitcher."

His first target was XY Flower Shop. According to his memories, this flower shop located on the outskirts of the city had extremely rare "Psionic Plants."

"Psionic Plants" were similar to buff items in games. They typically existed in the form of plants, fruits, or food, with plants being the most common. Once obtained by players, or even zombies, they could be directly consumed, providing permanent attribute bonuses.

In the case of survivors during the apocalypse, who could only rely on gaining +1 attribute point per level, the effects of "Psionic Food" were extraordinary. Each point of attribute increase had an exaggerated impact on their strength.

In the past life, those fortunate enough to obtain these fruits had become dominant figures in the post-apocalyptic world. However, such special items typically only existed in the period leading up to the apocalypse and gradually disappeared in the first month after the apocalypse began.

Clark, as an ordinary person, was able to access this information thanks to the "chat channel" in the post-apocalyptic game, which was different from the regular chat channels in games. Using the post-apocalyptic chat channel required a significant expenditure of energy and stamina, in other words, precious food.

Therefore, most ordinary people like Clark, who had problems with basic necessities in their past lives, could only silently watch as powerful Awakened individuals occasionally shared information or even chatted!

In Clark's memory, after the outbreak of the apocalypse, he had never seen such news on the "public channels" again for a year. So, if he didn't seize the opportunity now to gain some psychic sustenance, finding it later would be as difficult as climbing to the heavens.

"Eye of Judgment!"

To observe the surrounding environment, Clark activated the Eye of Judgment once again, and a golden flash passed through his pupils. His already excellent vision improved once more as information streamed in like data, confirming that there was no danger. Clark then closed the Eye of Judgment. Although it didn't consume much mental energy, the cumulative effect of its continuous use was still a burden.

There were no special mutants nearby, 678 zombies in total, and 122 survivors. In what used to be a community of thousands, only about 10% remained alive. The cruelty of the apocalypse was evident.

First, he needed to find a motorcycle. After observing the route, Clark made up his mind. The journey into the city was long, and although the number of zombies was not as terrifying as in the city center, it was still substantial. Dealing with zombies along the way without a vehicle would waste too much time.

In the old city area, heavy trucks were not easy to find. Ordinary cars would break down when they hit a few zombies. In contrast, a nimble motorcycle was a good choice. If conditions allowed later on, finding an armored vehicle to convert into a mobile fortress would be even better.

After a night had passed, the entrance to the residential area had once again gathered a considerable number of zombies. The ground was stained dark red with crushed entrails mixed with blood. The zombies that wouldn't spare any flesh and devoured the bodies left only white skeletons behind. It seemed that many people had tried to escape or get inside last night.

Hundreds of aimless zombies roamed around, occasionally raising their heads to emit piercing screams. Clark seized the opportunity and instantly burst towards a small group of zombies surrounding a particular spot.

There was a black motorcycle overturned on the ground, with the key inserted and ready to be started. Next to the  black motorcycle  was a skeleton, gnawed clean. It seemed to be the owner of the motorcycle.

Clark's right foot suddenly exerted force, causing the old ground to crack, and he sprinted to the group of corpses in front of him. A downward slash! The Nepalese kukri, about half an arm's length, sliced through the air with a sharp whistle.

The Nepalese kukri came from Dirk's collection. Like Dirk, a retired soldier, he had a hobby of collecting weapons. While The Licker's spine was of far superior quality to alloy weapons, it wasn't as convenient to wield without proper modification. The blade gleamed, and with one stroke, Clark cleanly cut down the two closest zombies. It was as if they had been sliced by a laser, leaving smooth wounds. The divided bodies slowly slid apart.

"Roar!" The horde of zombies detected the scent of a living person and instantly went berserk. The rotting, fleshy arms reached out toward Clark.

A sideways kick! Clark's body quickly changed direction. With the speed that exceeded human limits, he rapidly twisted his body and applied force from his waist.

"Bang! Hiss!" A zombie that lunged at him was directly kicked in half by a powerful kick. Its white spine stubbornly hung from Clark's foot. Circular slash! Burst of power!

When Awakened individuals unleashed their power, a unique energy fluctuation emitted, and the golden energy flowed into their bodies like water. Clark's expression was cold as he swiftly performed a circular slash with the knife in one hand. The sharp blade easily cut through the zombies' necks with the added strength. Blood and flesh were severed, and seven zombie heads were cleanly decapitated in a single stroke. With one strike, Clark efficiently eliminated the remaining seven zombies.

"Oh my god!" In a window on the third floor nearby, a man in his twenties with a scruffy beard widened his eyes and couldn't help but exclaim in shock. His face was filled with amazement, as if a scene from a movie had come to life, making it hard for him to believe.

Who on earth was this person? A set of swordsmanship flowed like water, and he possessed freakishly strong physical abilities. Could he be the legendary hermit master? A martial artist from novels? The man widened his eyes, bloodshot with excitement.

The day the apocalypse broke out happened to be a weekend, and he lived alone in the apartment, which was why he was lucky enough to survive. However, the zombies outside his door had trapped him inside, making it impossible for him to move. There was no food in the room, and being used to ordering takeout when he was hungry, he had already eaten the last cup of instant noodles. He quickly realized that if he continued like this, he might face death from starvation. He had tried to go out, but seeing a strong man riding a motorcycle back home last night and giving up after being surrounded by zombies for just three seconds had made him abandon that plan.

Therefore, after a sleepless night, he was just about to check the situation outside when he saw Clark slaughtering zombies. After witnessing Clark's overwhelming strength, he quickly realized that maybe Clark could help him. Excitement welled up in the man's heart, and he tried to open the window to make some noise. But he had forgotten that in his fear the night before, he had locked the window tightly.

Panicking and flustered, when he finally managed to open the window and stick his head out, Clark had already ridden away on the motorcycle. Unable to know if Clark could hear him, the man shouted loudly, trying to leave an impression on Clark, just in case this incredibly powerful man would come back.

"Big brother! My name is Clifford! I live in Building 3, Unit 302!"