Shen Ge’s words might have been blunt, but they were undeniably true—harsh yet realistic.

Many people assumed that when the apocalypse hit, all they needed was a panic room stocked with food and water. They thought they could hole up for a few years, work out, and then emerge ready to conquer the world.

But they overlooked one critical factor: locking a person in an enclosed space with nothing but food and water—no internet, no outside communication—while knowing monsters roamed freely outside would eventually drive them insane from psychological pressure.

There was once an experiment abroad where a hundred people were invited to stay in a house with no phones, internet, TV, or computers. They were given food and water, and if they lasted three months, they’d win $500,000.

The first to drop out were the very same young people who had bragged they could stay until the organizers went bankrupt. Some couldn’t even last two days. They said time crawled unbearably in that house, and with nothing to do, their minds spiraled into torment far worse than any physical hardship.

In the end, only one middle-aged man made it through. But after completing the experiment, he underwent months of psychological treatment, left the money to his family, and ended his life with a gun.

Shen Ge believed that unless the entire world became a safe haven—or at the very least, an entire city—a single panic room was utterly meaningless.

That was why he chose to join the Special Response Department. With their backing, he’d have more opportunities to confront the supernatural head-on. Maybe, just maybe, he could delay the inevitable descent into chaos.

Save the world?

No.

Shen Ge just wanted to save himself—to preserve a world that wasn’t reduced to a monotonous cycle of killing monsters, retreating to a safe house, then waking up to do it all over again.

If he wanted that kind of grind, why not just boot up a Dynasty Warriors game?

Cheng Shengnan fell silent, absorbing his words, then finally nodded. “Alright. If there’s ever anything I can do to help—whether as a former colleague or a friend—just ask.”

“Deal.”

She stood and extended her hand. “Good luck out there.”

Shen Ge shook it with a grin. “Same to you. Hope you reach whatever heights you’re aiming for. But remember—we’re all just stumbling through life for the first time. No need to bend over backward for anyone. Relax. Happiness matters most. The cart’ll find its way around the hill when it gets there.”

His words carried a pointed meaning.

Cheng Shengnan didn’t acknowledge it directly, simply smiling. “Thanks.”

Once back at his desk, Shen Ge immediately texted Deng Yuqi: “Officer Deng, what’s the deal here?”

“What deal?” she replied promptly.

“Yesterday’s market incident. Why am I trending?”

“What do you expect? You caught a ghost rat in front of hundreds of people. Plenty filmed it. We can’t exactly arrest and warn every single one.”

“Memory-erasing baton? Shouldn’t you be bonking them all?”

“Mr. Shen, watch fewer movies.”

“Oh, so you’ve seen them too, huh?”

“…”

After Deng Yuqi’s explanation, Shen Ge learned this was already the damage-controlled version. With so many eyewitnesses, the footage had spread too quickly for the Special Response Department to contain. Their PR team had opted to lean into it—editing clips to obscure the rat’s monstrous features while steering public attention away from the supernatural.

“So you’re telling me I’m getting roasted online because you guys encouraged it?” Shen Ge groaned.

“Not the comments themselves. We planned to moderate them, but when we saw people fixating on trivial details instead of the actual anomaly, we let it ride. We did delete plenty of misleading edits, though—like the one where you ‘kicked a child.’”

Shen Ge sighed. This was just how the internet worked now—minor details blown out of proportion while the real issue (saving lives) got ignored.

After a few more exchanges, Deng Yuqi, hearing he’d resigned, instructed him to report for his official evaluation the next day before hanging up.

Soon after, Cheng Shengnan announced Shen Ge’s departure to the office, declaring a farewell dinner in his honor that evening.

Once she left, coworkers swarmed him, demanding answers—except for Old Zhao, who stood smugly with an “I know, but I won’t tell” air.

After shooing the others away, Shen Ge finally turned to him. “Spit it out.”

“You two going public?”

“Public with what?”

“Your relationship. Only reason you’d quit such a sweet gig is to avoid office romance drama, right?”

“Nah. I’m off to save the world.”

“Oh, yeah? Count me in. Actually, my true identity is Iron Man.”

“Sure thing, Stank.”

“…”

With his work handed off, Shen Ge enjoyed an early dismissal thanks to Cheng Shengnan’s generosity. By 4 p.m., the team was at the restaurant she’d booked.

Around 7 p.m., Shen Ge declined Old Zhao’s KTV invite, citing other business, and headed straight for Lushan International Villas. He’d been itching all day to claim his reward from those three stray cats.

Unfortunately, after scouring Chen’s villa repeatedly, he found no trace of them.

The system wouldn’t give a daily quest if they were impossible to find…

Expanding his search to the neighborhood, he eventually heard piercing feline shrieks from an occupied villa. The cries were agonized, desperate.

Circling the property, he noted the owner’s paranoia—cameras covered every corner of the perimeter.

Activating Silence, he vaulted the fence.

(It took him two full minutes. Note to self: hit the gym.)

While Silence masked his movements, the cameras still caught him. Not that he cared—if the owner was up to something shady, he’d happily play the righteous vigilante.

Peering through the floor-to-ceiling window, he saw a shirtless guy in swim trunks torturing a mutilated animal on a grill. Two others were skewered nearby—one missing half its skull, the other gutted, organs spilling out.

Two were the same strays from Chen’s villa—likely Silence’s lackeys.

Now, between the one Shen Ge had accidentally killed and these three, he finally understood why the cats had held such hatred for humans.

This bastard was the reason.