Chapter Nine: The End of the Mortal World (Part Two)

In the villa, Guo Lang was fiddling with the little girl's computer, using search software to look up world maps and information, planning the route ahead. With disaster about to erupt, he seized the opportunity while the internet was still available to clarify the geographical situation. He needed a location that was sparsely populated and unlikely to attract attention, but not too lacking in resources. In the apocalypse, the ideal starting base was either a countryside town or an overseas island. Strategically, an overseas island was more suitable, since the main adversaries were zombies. Once the island was cleared, it would be possible to establish a relatively safe base. The mountains, however, contained many unknown variables—mutated animals and potential zombie hordes. He wasn’t certain if the virus released by the undead would affect animals, but one thing he was sure of: the undead would never dare to release a virus against marine life.

Marine creatures on any planet are several times stronger than those on land, merely confined by their ecological niche. If a genetic mutation granted them the ability to make landfall, beginners like them would struggle to control the situation. Thus, compared to a small town in the mountains, an island was much safer.

Yet islands had their own disadvantages: unstable weather and severe natural disasters, which could wreak havoc on a newly established base. The second issue was resources. The Federation's satellites were advanced, and most resource-rich islands were claimed by nations, usually housing military bases, making it difficult to gain an advantage.

If considering a technological base in the early stages, Nightfall’s base originally had an edge, since both Nightfall and the bases of the Nature Elves were living entities with some defensive capabilities. The drawback was their high demand for resources, especially fresh water, making the choice of an initial base a matter to be approached with caution.

After spending considerable time, he still hadn’t settled on a suitable target. Industrial islands were out of the question, and private islands were generally too small, limiting development. Tourist islands, however, were a promising option: they boasted good ecological environments and abundant resources, and were generally not too far from the main city—making it easier to recruit followers. Furthermore, such islands rarely had aggressive creatures. The downside was the sheer number of people, making clearing the island rather troublesome.

Moreover, the logistics of getting to an island—especially acquiring a boat—were complicated. Crucially, he couldn’t leave just yet. Without an identity, he was a ghost in the most developed city of the Federation, easily picked up by the police and taken to the station. If trapped there, it would be a disaster. Thus, the optimal time to depart would be about a week after the disaster broke out, when finding a boat would be even more difficult.

Why a week later? That conclusion came from Guo Lang’s past life experience. Many people, despite reading countless apocalypse novels and watching movies, were all theory and no practice, utterly clueless about the real dangers. In reality, the first two days after a biohazard outbreak were the worst time to drive. Traffic would be chaotic, and if you got stuck on the road, you were as good as dead. Many novices met their end this way.

He compared several islands, and by the time he had some free moments, it was already midday. Guo Lang rubbed his eyes and glanced at Xiao Tao, who wore an expression of utter despair. Curiously, he asked, “Hey? Where’s Alice?”

“She went out shopping!” Xiao Tao replied irritably. Over the past week, Guo Lang had treated her as a toy to please the little girl—she, a dignified intelligent life-form, had been played with by a lower life-form from an invaded dimension. She suddenly felt her assigned master had no future.

“When did she leave?” Guo Lang frowned.

“Ten o’clock!” Xiao Tao was taken aback, realizing something was off. Two hours had passed; shopping shouldn’t take so long. Besides, that little devil was so infatuated with her adorable body, it made no sense not to have returned by now.

A faint sense of foreboding crept into Guo Lang’s heart. He had roughly calculated that the disaster would erupt within these few days, but the exact timing was uncertain. Had he grown lax because everything had gone so smoothly? The confidence he’d felt suddenly gave way to unease.

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Meanwhile, in Laura’s office tower, Laura paced restlessly in her office. The shadow of the morning lingered in her mind, and truthfully, if she could, she would have liked to go home. Yet the company was on high alert, and leaving her post would impact her career.

After another ten minutes, Laura’s anxiety intensified. She walked out of her office and asked the secretary at the desk outside, “I told you to notify the experts to come up for a meeting—why aren’t they here yet?”

The secretary quickly stood to explain, “I notified security half an hour ago. You know how those experts are—they get so caught up in discussions they rarely listen to others. Maybe they got delayed. I’ll call and check.” She picked up the phone and dialed, with Laura watching intently, hoping to hear the experts had simply been held up by some mundane issue.

The phone rang for nearly two minutes, and the secretary even redialed, but no one answered. The result chilled Laura’s heart.

The secretary gave an awkward smile, silently cursing the unreliable security guards for not answering during work hours. Laura stared blankly out the window. The tower’s glass was tinted, adjustable via the smart system. Normally, it was set to dim during office hours, but it was noon, and perhaps the secretary, to rest her eyes, had set Laura’s office glass to transparent.

Laura’s building was one of the tallest in New Newton, over two hundred floors. Looking down, the vehicles and crowds below looked smaller than ants, but her sharp eyes noticed several ambulances passing by.

Laura frowned. This was the city center, and the hospital was New Newton Versailles Hospital—the best equipped, with the most experts in the Federation. Only nobles could get an appointment here; ordinary people didn’t even qualify to book a specialist. Usually, emergency calls in the city were handled by district hospitals, even for incidents in the center—unless the scale was large. Versailles rarely had spare beds.

Yet, from that direction, Laura felt as if the ambulances were coming from Versailles Hospital. She asked, “Was there a traffic accident?” Most people in the capital were well-behaved, and with good road planning, traffic accidents were rare. In Laura’s memory, apart from that terrorist attack ten years ago, there hadn’t been any major accidents here.

“It must be,” the secretary replied, noting the CEO’s growing panic—so different from her usual calm demeanor. “This is the fourth batch. It must be a big accident.”

“The fourth batch?” Laura’s heart sank even further. She bit her finger, finally instructing the secretary, “Call the emergency line—police and fire department as well!”

“Huh?” The secretary was caught off guard.

“What do you mean, ‘huh’? Call them!” Laura nearly shouted, and the secretary, startled, quickly apologized and did as told.

Two minutes later, Laura looked at the secretary, who was visibly nervous. “Well?”

“Busy signal!” The secretary, infected by Laura’s urgency, also felt anxious, though she didn’t know what was happening.

Laura took a deep breath, her fingers white from gripping them so tightly. Based on the signs from earlier that morning, she had a fairly good idea of what was happening. Though the dimension was different, any film with a biohazard theme, once the internet era arrived, had similar works—and she’d seen plenty.

Some might think her overly sensitive, deducing a biohazard from subtle clues—was her imagination too wild? But in reality, successful people like her often had sharper sensitivity and observation than the average person, and adapted to events much faster. In many apocalypse novels, protagonists were often nobodies with either extraordinary luck or keen intuition, noticing anomalies before everyone else, while the first casualties were usually the wealthy.

This idea was highly biased. Successful people—especially those who built their fortunes from scratch—stood atop society thanks to their exceptional qualities. Their logic and mindset far exceeded those of someone like Guo Lang, whose experience barely extended beyond fantasies at home. Often, they were among the first to spot trouble. Aside from certain professionals with high combat skills and quick reflexes, the elite had a much higher survival rate than ordinary citizens.

Having confirmed her suspicions, Laura’s face darkened as she strode over and pushed aside the secretary, dialing her home number.

“Mummy, I’m not home. Please leave a message after the beep. Baby’s being good at home!” The adorable voice sent Laura’s heart plunging to the depths. Her head felt heavy, and she almost lost her balance.

“Are you alright, Manager?” The secretary was increasingly nervous, watching Laura’s strange behavior.

“Sweetheart, sweetheart, when you get home, don’t go out again. Lock all doors and windows, keep things quiet, don’t pay attention to any strangers, and wait for mommy to come back!” After saying this, a bitter smile crept onto her lips. Most of what she’d just said was meant for herself—as a balm for her anxiety.

After a moment’s silence, Laura took a deep breath and pressed the security call button. When nothing happened after a while, she told the secretary, “Go to the security room and see where they are. If there’s anyone, call two guards up.”

“Oh…” The secretary glanced nervously at Laura and carefully left the office, not realizing that as soon as she left, Laura pulled down the blinds and activated the emergency safety glass doors.

Meanwhile, on the other end of the line, Guo Lang turned off the voicemail, gazing outside the villa. Outside, everything was as usual—sunny, peaceful, and serene—but Guo Lang sensed a trace of coldness in the air. Shaking his head, he sighed and said to Xiao Tao, “It’s time to pay the debt.”