Behind the door.
A deathly pale face appeared!
The player hiding there had already conspired with his companions yesterday and brought in another recruit today to boost their courage.
With the combined nerve of three people, they dared to secretly smash "Zore's" door.
But things quickly spiraled out of control.
Creak.
Creak.
Outside, someone twisted the lock, making unsettling noises.
Hearing it, the players inside felt their scalps tingle and tears well up.
"Don't come in, don't come in, don't come in..."
They prayed desperately in their hearts.
The twisting sound finally stopped.
Silence fell both inside and outside.
The players were relieved—but too soon.
Crack!
Crack!
Heavy pounding came from outside the door, again and again.
The players were so terrified they nearly fainted, covering their mouths to stifle their cries.
The wooden door was only Level 1 with 30 durability points, no match for Leonard's assault. Breaking through was inevitable.
Each strike was like the tolling of death's bell, ringing for those trapped inside.
The durability dropped rapidly.
Watching the door about to give way, the players crawled under the bed, hiding deep inside, praying fervently to every god and ancestor they could think of.
Crunch!
The door finally shattered completely, turning into two bundles of wood resources that fell to the floor.
Leonard casually grabbed the resources, swept a glance around the room, and spotted a shadow hiding under the bed.
He sneered coldly, bent down, grabbed the person's ankle, and yanked them out by force.
"Ah! Don't kill me! I was wrong, please, please spare me!"
The player sobbed uncontrollably, nose and tears streaming.
"Alright, I'll spare you," Leonard said unexpectedly.
The player froze. Was he really that easygoing?
"Get up," Leonard demanded.
The player stopped crying temporarily, clambered up while still clutching a rusty water pipe as a weapon.
"We'll have a fair one-on-one duel. Kill me, and you live. That's your way out," Leonard said.
"No, no, no..."
This wasn't a path to survival—it was a death sentence!
The player backed away, overwhelmed by terror.
But retreating wouldn't solve anything.
Leonard charged forward, unleashing a triple strike that severely wounded three vital spots.
Humans, unlike zombies, are full of vulnerabilities—far too fragile.
-38
-44
-60
Three strikes, three damage numbers.
The player's health bar was wiped clean.
The body collapsed, blood gushing from the mouth and staining the chest.
Leonard picked up the dropped weapon, grabbed the corpse by the ankle, and dragged it back up to the 8th floor.
He also retrieved the bodies from downstairs.
He lined the three corpses up against a wall, leaning on each other.
Then, photo time!
Leonard took a picture and posted it in the player chat group, adding a message.
[These three dared to smash my door. I killed them all. Let this be a warning: do not mess with me.]
[I have a very bad temper!]
The message was very convincing.
Smash his door and get killed? That's definitely a bad temper.
In this Dormitory Survival Game, survival logic was brutal.
Players were bound to their rooms, sharing breath, sharing fate.
Smashing someone's door and plotting to steal their home was an act of pure hostility, a blood feud!
The player group chat remained eerily silent.
First, most players were busy outside during the day.
Second, no one dared comment for fear of offending a powerhouse like Zore.
The entire chat was deathly still, silent as a graveyard.
Moreover, the shrinking number of group members revealed another problem.
Leonard noticed it too.
At dawn on the third day, there had been 66 survivors.
Now, only 54 remained.
During daytime, zombies were dormant and didn't roam.
So how had so many players died?
Leonard had only killed three who killed the rest?
The answer was obvious.
"Players are killing each other," Leonard concluded.
"Or there are assassin-type players hunting others to boost themselves."
It was clear. He would have to be much more cautious dealing with players from now on.
Many would want him dead for the rewards.
Plus, now that he had openly killed, he was firmly on the "villain" list.
Other players would kill him without mercy or hesitation.
"Time to fix the door and tidy up," Leonard muttered.
Returning to his dorm, he began repairs on the damaged door.
If the door were completely destroyed, he would have to rebuild it from scratch.
Repairing it consumed fewer materials.
Leonard spent 1 unit of wood and 1 toolbox unit, triggering the repair progress bar.
He got busy with both hands.
Meanwhile, something in the group chat caught Leonard's attention.
A player named Bean spoke up:
[Um... anyone willing to trade me a weapon? At least a Level 2 one. Don't try fooling me with some broken wooden stick.]
[I can offer some stuff in exchange. Here's what I've got.]
Bean sent a photo showing seven items, including a battery and a box of matches!
Leonard's heart stirred instantly.
Both the battery and matches were things he needed.
The battery could recharge his ultraviolet flashlight.
The matches could be paired with Molotov cocktails.
Leonard had a lot of resources, but not everything.
Resource collection depended heavily on luck.
Without pausing his repairs, Leonard sent a private message, using the system's mental typing feature.
[I'll take the battery and matches. I'll trade you a Level 2 riot baton. It's pretty good.]
[Wow, didn't expect to catch your attention, boss. You're so high-level... I'm kinda nervous about trading with you.]
[I have my ways. I know your dorm number, 1210, right?]
The other side fell silent for a long time, likely scared.
Normally, in group chat, only virtual names were shown—not dorm numbers.
[If I wanted to rob you, I could storm your place any time, even at night. I'm not afraid of zombies.]
[Relax. I won't do that. For just a battery and matches, a Level 2 weapon is a fair trade. Tell me a location for the exchange. We'll swap goods, simple as that.]
[I can even give you two Level 2 weapons for your two items. You're getting a great deal.]
Leonard sent a few more reassuring messages to lower Bean's guard.
It was like a lion making a deal with a lamb, the lamb's fear was natural.
Finally, Bean replied,
[Okay then. Let's trade at the 2nd staircase on the 11th floor. Boss, please don't hurt me. I really want to survive and go home. My parents are counting on me.]
[Don't worry. I only kill with reason. I'm not going to murder someone over a battery and a box of matches. Wait for me there. I'll be there in five minutes.]