Chapter Eighteen: A Choice of Refuge

Building 8, 17th Floor. Chen Si stared intently at the photo Mu Chen had just sent on her phone. The steaming hot pot made her stomach growl loudly.

“Xiaoxiao, I think we should…” she turned to her best friend.

Chen Xiaoxiao was applying the last bit of nail polish on her pinky without looking up. “Should what?”

“Contact Mu Chen,” Chen Si swallowed hard. “Look at all the food he has, and that campus beauty Chen Jiahe is with him. That means he must have a way to get supplies.”

Xiaoxiao paused, the nail polish dripping onto the table. “Si, you’re not thinking…”

“Yes, to join him,” Chen Si stood and paced the room. “If we keep going like this, we’ll starve to death. That half-moldy piece of bread from yesterday still makes me feel sick.”

“Are you crazy?” Xiaoxiao snapped up. “Don’t you know what kind of person Mu Chen is? At that sophomore year department dinner, he got a junior drunk and tried to…”

“That’s just a rumor!” Chen Si cut her off. “Besides, this is the end of the world. Does the past even matter now?”

Xiaoxiao stepped forward and grabbed her hand. “Si, listen to me. Someone like Mu Chen pretends to be nice but really just wants to take advantage of you. Think about it—Chen Jiahe is so beautiful and she’s with him. What does that tell you?”

“That he has strength!”

“No!” Xiaoxiao shook her head. “It means he’s a pervert who collects women! If you go there, you’ll be a lamb to the slaughter.”

Chen Si frowned. “So what do you suggest?”

“Join Pan Guang’s mutual aid group.” Xiaoxiao let go of her hand and picked up her phone. “Look at how many people have joined. Everyone trusts him. And the aid group is a collective, unlike Mu Chen who’s a lone wolf. At least it’s safer.”

“But Pan Guang…” Chen Si thought of the man who always looked at her lecherously and felt a wave of nausea. “I just don’t trust him.”

“Which man isn’t a little pervy?” Xiaoxiao sat back down and continued painting her nails. “The key is, in a group, he can’t act recklessly. Mu Chen is different—he has supplies and special abilities. If you go to him, you’re at his mercy.”

Chen Si bit her lip, torn inside.

Seeing her hesitation, Xiaoxiao pressed on. “Plus, think about it—the group will only get bigger and stronger. Eventually, we’ll be founding members with high status. What about Mu Chen’s place? You’ll always be a subordinate.”

“You’re right…” Chen Si nodded but still felt reluctant. “But the living conditions at Mu Chen’s place…”

“Si!” Xiaoxiao suddenly grew serious and slammed the nail polish on the table. “I’m your best friend. Would I ever hurt you?”

“Of course not…”

“Then trust me!” Xiaoxiao stood and grabbed her hand. “I know you’re starving and seeing that delicious food makes you want to go over. But you have to be rational! A guy like Mu Chen gives you a bite, but expects ten times the price in return!”

Chen Si felt unsettled by her words. “Is it really that bad?”

“Have you forgotten what Chen Jiahe used to be like?” Xiaoxiao lowered her voice. “The campus goddess, so aloof and proud. And now she obediently follows Mu Chen. Do you think she’s doing it willingly?”

Chen Si recalled Chen Jiahe’s once distant demeanor, contrasting it with the cautious expression in the photo. Something was definitely off.

“Besides, look at the photo Mu Chen posted today. He’s clearly bragging, taunting us,” Xiaoxiao continued. “People like him enjoy watching others suffer. Do you think following him will end well?”

“Then… should we contact Pan Guang?” Chen Si finally relented.

“Yes!” Xiaoxiao clapped excitedly. “And quickly. The aid group has limited spots. If we reach out now, we can get in first.”

Chen Si picked up her phone and hovered her finger over Pan Guang’s profile picture. “Are we really doing this?”

“Si, trust me.” Xiaoxiao held her hand. “We’re sisters. I would never put you in danger. Pan Guang has flaws, but at least he’s normal. Mu Chen is a monster who’d consume you to the bone.”

Chen Si took a deep breath and began typing: “Brother Pan, I want to join the mutual aid group…”

The message sent, Pan Guang replied almost instantly: “Si, beautiful! That’s great! Welcome, welcome!”

“He replied so fast…” Chen Si was surprised.

“That shows he values you!” Xiaoxiao leaned in to look at the screen. “See? That’s the strength of a group—everyone’s united.”

Pan Guang’s messages kept coming: “Si, where are you now? I’ll send someone to pick you up. Do you have companions? It’s best if you come together—there’s strength in numbers.”

Chen Si looked to Xiaoxiao. “You’re coming with me, right?”

Xiaoxiao shook her head. “I’m staying. I have some things to handle at home. Besides, the group will be chaotic at first—you go scout it out.”

“If you’re not coming, what am I supposed to do?” Chen Si panicked.

“Don’t worry. Once you’re settled, I’ll come over.” Xiaoxiao patted her shoulder. “Remember to keep a low profile, stick with allies, and avoid conflict with Pan Guang.”

Chen Si nodded and began replying to Pan Guang.

…

At six in the morning, before dawn.

Mu Chen rose silently.

Beside him, Chen Jiahe still slept soundly, her long black hair spread across the pillow, her breathing soft and steady.

He took two still-warm meat buns and a box of milk from his system space.

Gently, he placed them on the bedside table, making sure she would see them upon waking.

Then, he tightened his grip on the military knife at his waist. The cold metal pressed into his palm.

Today’s target was clear: Building 11.

There must be many rooms there they hadn’t explored yet.

Perhaps he could find more special fruit—key to increasing his power.

A ghostly blue light suddenly flickered, swallowing Mu Chen’s figure.

In the next moment, he stood inside the fire escape of Building 11.

The entire building was deathly silent, only the thick black fog outside swirling ominously.

“Start at the top floor,” Mu Chen decided.

The cooldown for his teleportation skill was short, but using it repeatedly drained his mental strength.

He had to pace himself.

Floor after floor, Mu Chen searched cautiously.

The 30th floor was empty, covered in thick dust.

On the 29th floor, a rotting corpse curled up in a corner.

Empty medicine bottles lay scattered nearby—long expired.

On the 28th floor, the living room floor bore clear signs of a struggle.

Dark brown bloodstains had long since dried, telling tales of past brutality.

In a bedroom, Mu Chen made a discovery deep in the wardrobe.

A samurai sword, still in perfect packaging.

He drew the blade; it gleamed cold and sharp.

The handle was tightly wrapped in black cord, solid in his grip.

“This is a fine weapon.”

Satisfied, he stored the samurai sword in his system space.