"Who did this? Who on earth did this!?"
Fang Jing's roar echoed through the narrow corridor. The moment he heard the report, he rushed straight to Fang Geng's residence, heart pounding with dread. His nephew lived only a few blocks away, close enough that Fang Jing could always keep an eye on him.
After the apocalypse, this boy was his only remaining family. He had no son. Before everything collapsed, he had treated Fang Geng almost as one, indulging him, guiding him, shielding him. He had never imagined that the brat who survived the slaughter of billions would fall prey not to zombies, but to a hidden hand among the living.
The sight that greeted him nearly made his blood run cold.
Fang Geng's forehead was a mangled mess of blood and torn flesh, smeared with dirt from the floor. He knelt in a pathetic heap, slamming his head forward in endless repetition.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
