Chapter 7: A Flashy Entrance

Su Xiamu lashed out with his foot, kicking the zombie squarely. To his surprise, the force was tremendous. The zombie crashed to the ground with a heavy thud. He lunged, driving the dagger deep into its skull and twisting.

The gore barely registered now. He wiped his hand clean on his pants, a flicker of pride surfacing. His adaptability was impressive.

He examined his hand – pale, smooth skin, nothing like the desiccated parchment it had been. The space's water was potent. And his strength... he'd never kicked like that before. The zombie hadn't gotten back up.

Scanning the store, his gaze fell on some furniture. He placed a hand on a wooden sofa. If only I could put this in the space...

He blinked. The sofa vanished.

"Put me in the space..." As soon as the words left his lips, he was amidst the verdant grass, the sofa beside him.

Su Xiaomu stared, a line of sweat forming on his brow. Relief washed over him, mixed with exasperation. At least he could enter and exit freely now. Get out. Instantly, he was back in the store.

Looking at the remaining goods, his eyes gleamed. Food was scarce, but the space had chickens, ducks, fruit, and vegetables. Sustaining himself shouldn't be a problem.

He began discreetly stashing useful items into his space – seasonings, soy sauce, anything non-perishable. He was selective. The space was limited: a small hill, the cabin's plain, the stream. Electronics were useless without power.

He understood the principle: "Innocent possession invites trouble." Even alone, he wouldn't enter the space unless absolutely necessary. Exposure meant death.

This was G City. Were there survivor bases? The scarcity of zombies suggested organized clearing. He recalled pre-apocalypse forums discussing how major cities like G, T, and B would likely establish fortified bases. He needed information. He needed to find people.

He smeared dirt and ash on his face, his hands, his neck. In the apocalypse, cleanliness was suspicious. Emaciation, sallow skin, filth – that was normal. He changed into grubbier clothes, shouldered a backpack filled with essentials, and decided to search for G City's base. Strength lay in numbers. Always.

"Whoa!" He tripped on the store's threshold, sprawling face-first onto the pavement. Pain shot through him. He lay there for a moment, winded.

"Someone's here?!" A strange voice echoed. Su Xiaomu scrambled up like a flipped fish, dusting himself off.

"..."

The small group stared at him, expressions twisting with unmistakable disdain, contempt, and... disgust.

"..."

Su Xiaomu remained silent. Disdain? Scorn? Hatred? Clearly aimed at the body's former occupant. But that life was gone. He was Su Xiaomu now.

"You okay?" A sturdy young man stepped forward, waving a hand in front of Su Xiaomu's face.

Su Xiaomu looked him over. Relatively clean, black T-shirt, black pants, a face radiating roguish charm. Sharp eyebrows arched slightly, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he surveyed Su Xiaomu.

"So... can I come with you?" Su Xiaomu asked, deliberately injecting a note of vulnerability into his voice. He sensed this man, Zhang Yi, was the leader of the five.

"What can you offer?" Another youth, Zhao Sheng, spat out before Zhang Yi could answer. "Before the apocalypse, all you knew was spending daddy's money! Eating, drinking, shitting! We don't carry dead weight!"