The bounty within the cellar—or perhaps it was more accurate to call it a survival bunker—far exceeded their wildest imaginations.

Chen Ye surmised that the Village Chief of Longevity Village must have sensed the encroaching darkness of the world long before the end arrived, hoarding these supplies in secret.

Reports shouted up from the depths confirmed the haul: mountains of potatoes and sweet potatoes, followed by crates of canned meat, sacks of rice, and bags of fine white flour. It was a king’s ransom in the wasteland.

Only now did Chen Ye fully appreciate the terrifying value of Captain Chu’s Eavesdropping Radio. Without that Artifact’s intelligence, they could have turned this village upside down for two days and never found this cache.

Cheering and shouts of delight echoed from the hole in the floor.

“Auntie Zhao, come up quickly! We’re running out of time!”

The bespectacled university student, Xiao Fu, leaned over the dark opening, his voice urgent as he called down to the old woman.

Chen Ye glanced over. So, the old hag’s surname was Zhao.

“Xiao Fu, wait a little longer for your auntie! It’s not easy to find good things like this. It would be a sin to leave them behind!” The old woman’s greedy voice scratched its way up from the dark.

Xiao Fu, clutching his steel pipe, looked to be about twenty. His eyes still held that distinct, clear stupidity unique to college students who hadn’t yet been crushed by society. He was the only one in the entire convoy who still tolerated the grandmother-grandson pair.

One by one, the other survivors clambered out.

When they had left the Great Willow Mini-Mart, their packs were half-empty. Now, every seam was bursting, every zipper strained. Faces that had been pale with fear were now flushed with the rosy glow of satisfaction.

Priorities shifted instantly. Potato chips and spicy strips were dumped on the floor, replaced by the heavy, life-sustaining weight of tubers and grains. Survival meant calories, not flavor. Some men even stripped off their shirts, tying the sleeves to fashion makeshift sacks, cradling them like newborns.

Iron Lion was a spectacle unto himself.

The Titan Sequence Beyonder emerged carrying a backpack that looked like a small mountain. It was so comically large it would have crushed a normal man’s spine, yet Iron Lion bore it with ease. He didn’t stop there; his massive arms cradled several more bundles against his chest. He was a human freight train.

Even the Zhou sisters were laden down. Zhou Lan carried packs on her front and back, plus a tote in her hand. Zhou Xiaoxiao was equally burdened.

Everyone was smiling. The dopamine hit of acquiring wealth—survival wealth—temporarily masked the horror of their location.

Ironically, it was Nana and Chen Ye who carried the least.

“It’s getting late. We need to move,” Chen Ye said, his voice cutting through the celebration.

Nana checked her watch, her expression tightening. “Forty minutes until four o’clock. We have to clear the village boundary within forty minutes.”

“Let’s go!”

The group began to file out of the villa, their steps hurried.

Chen Ye lingered a moment, his eyes darting into the shadows of the opulent living room. This raid had been too smooth. The Hunchback Thrall had vanished. No other Anomalies had attacked. The silence felt heavy, pregnant with a terror that was waiting for them to lower their guards.

“You… you all wait for me!”

A panic-stricken cry came from the cellar. Auntie Zhao had realized she was being left behind.

Aside from Xiao Fu, who turned back to help, no one stopped. A few survivors even smirked, a dark schadenfreude playing on their lips.

But as the old saying went, calamities linger for a thousand years.

With the student’s help, Auntie Zhao clawed her way out of the hole. When Chen Ye saw her, he actually paused, stunned by the sheer audacity of her greed.

The old woman was a walking mountain of loot. She wore a massive hiking pack, carried two overstuffed bundles in her hands, and had a third bag slung around her neck like a yoke. She carried more than any able-bodied man in the group.

Noticing the stares, she lifted her chin, a flicker of smug pride in her eyes.

Chen Ye shook his head mentally. Never underestimate the elderly. While the young corporate drones of the old world burned out under the “blessing” of the 996 work schedule, these seniors possessed an inexhaustible well of energy. Anyone who had witnessed the gladiatorial combat of a supermarket egg sale or a tour group buffet knew that their vitality was terrifying.

But here, in the Spectral Domain, that greed was just a heavy anchor dragging her toward death.

“Move out,” Nana commanded, taking point with her long sword drawn.

Iron Lion followed, though his exit required him to physically tear the doorframe off the villa to fit his backpack through.

In the courtyard, the black luxury car sat undisturbed under the gray, hazy sun. Chen Ye’s Mechanic Sequence instincts flared—if he could strip that car for parts, or even take it whole, his tricycle could become a fortress. But he lacked the means. It would have to wait.

The convoy retraced their steps, heading back toward the village entrance.

The sky remained a suffocating, monochromatic gray. The sun was a pale disk that offered no warmth.

The mood was lighter now, buoyed by the harvest. Only Nana remained tense, checking her watch every few dozen meters. She shared Chen Ye’s instinct: in the apocalypse, an easy victory was usually a trap.

They walked briskly, putting distance between themselves and the villa.

“Something’s wrong.”

Nana stopped dead.

Iron Lion slammed on the brakes behind her, his mountain of supplies swaying dangerously. He planted his feet, the ground trembling slightly under his weight.

Chen Ye instantly raised his Hand Crossbow, scanning the rooftops. “What is it?”

“This road,” Nana said, her voice tight. “We’ve walked it before.”

She pointed to a dilapidated adobe house by the roadside. The door hung open, revealing a maw of darkness inside.

The survivors froze. They recognized it. This was the house where the two men had vanished earlier. It should have been behind them, near the village entrance.

Chen Ye lit a cigarette, the flame trembling slightly in the still air. He frowned, looking down the street. He wasn’t great with directions, but the layout was undeniable.

“Ahead… isn’t that The Great Willow?”

A trembling voice shattered the silence.

Everyone snapped their heads up.

There, looming over the rooftops just around the next bend, was the massive, weeping canopy of The Great Willow.

They were walking toward the village center.

By all logic, they had turned around at the Chief’s house and walked in a straight line toward the exit. The Great Willow should be far behind them.

But space had folded. They were back at the heart of the nightmare.

The excitement of the loot evaporated instantly, replaced by the icy grip of dread. Faces that had been flushed with success turned deathly pale.

“We went the wrong way,” Nana whispered, looking at her watch. The hands seemed to be moving faster than before.

“Thirty minutes left,” she said, her voice grim. “Turn around. If we run, we might still make it.”