Yu Xifeng gripped the handle of the knife tightly.

Smoke curled from the burning match. When soaked in gasoline, it initially showed no reaction, but after a moment, it suddenly burst into flames, burning fiercely.

The fire instantly spread across the entire road.

Not just in front of Yu Xifeng’s house — the whole street was drenched in gasoline.

Deng Feiyu had truly gone mad.

It wasn’t just the inner circle.

Zones 8, 5, and 2 — almost every district was engulfed in rising flames.

The newly appointed priest was praising the gods amidst the fire.

He had a pure white bald head.

Everyone will eventually die.

Everyone must atone to the gods.

Inside the underground shelter, there was wood everywhere, and fabric piled up all around.

The firelight twisted and turned, illuminating the road to hell.

Zheng Weiyang was still unaware of what was happening when the patrol woke him up.

Wang Anming’s face was tightly drawn; he threw Zheng Weiyang into the office and then left.

Every second wasted on this useless man was a loss of living strength for the rescue.

“The fire’s too big.” Xiao Rong ran back and forth like a spinning top.

“Organize evacuation! Can we clear a firebreak?”

“There are too many fire sources, not enough manpower. Damn it, we’ve caught a group, but others keep setting fires. These bastards don’t want to live.”

“Take your guns. Anyone caught arsoning will be shot on the spot.”

“Boss, firefighting equipment is running low. We’ve applied for emergency supplies, but at this hour, no approval.”

“Break the door and take it directly. If something happens, I’ll take responsibility.”

“Director Wang, there’s a call from the Zhou family, requesting priority rescue for the inner circle.”

Wang Anmin’s gaze was cold enough to freeze people: “Which department are you from?”

The man stammered: “I-I’m from General Affairs.”

“You’re military too? Don’t waste my time with this crap, or I’ll kill you,” Wang Anmin swore.

“Yes, sir.”

Sister Yun piled all the cloth on top of the honeycomb coal, then poured all the water from the house onto the clothes.

All the food had been loaded onto the cart, and the fat man urged, “Sister Yun, don’t delay, hurry up.”

Sister Yun gritted her teeth.

There was no more space left on the cart.

Smoke filled the entire space, each breath thick with choking fumes.

Sister Yun tore a wet shirt in half.

One half covered her mouth and nose, the other half she handed to the fat man.

“Go!”

Buildings like the underground shelter had safety exits planned from the start.

The patrol repeatedly warned not to block the safety exits.

Yet many people piled their belongings on the beds during the day, then secretly moved them to the exits at night.

The safety exit had become a kind of ecosystem — if you handed over some items, there were even people assigned to guard it.

Crowds pushed into the cracks of the safety exit.

In panic, people instinctively took familiar routes, following the flow.

The safety exit soon became packed with people from various districts.

“Are you going or not? Let me pass first.”

“Almost, almost.”

Everyone pushed forward — not just to get out, but to bring food, fuel, pots, and pans.

Someone fell.

The crowd behind still surged forward.

Clouds of black smoke chased from behind.

Some took advantage of the chaos to steal.

Those robbed turned around and grabbed from the next person.

Once outside, even without food, they’d die anyway — might as well fight here for it.

The fat man wielded an iron shovel — anyone who tried to get near his cart got hit with a swing.

He had years of experience handling spoons; his strength was not to be underestimated.

Several people were struck by the shovel and collapsed limply.

Sister Yun’s hair had been pulled messy by someone; her eyes were wide open, her hand gripping a knife.

The blade was stained red with blood.

Beneath her feet were all kinds of debris — wood, steel rods, bed boards, fallen bodies.

Zhang Qiu supported Old Man Cai, both wearing soaked cotton masks.

The cotton was already thick and heavy, now waterlogged and weighing down on their noses.

Every breath was a struggle.

Everyone had gone mad. In this chaos, it was easy to get in but hard to get out.

Old Man Cai was still agile, but there were too many people.

Old Man Cai was already old.

With so many in front, one slip — whether his or Zhang Qiu’s — could be fatal.

Zhang Qiu couldn’t afford to gamble.

“Old man, let’s take another route.”

The fire only looked huge; the real flames hadn’t reached here yet.

Using madness and brutality, the fat man and Sister Yun protected their belongings and kept pushing forward.

The cart rolled over the ground.

Zhang Qiu held Old Man Cai, pressed against the wall, stepping back slowly.

The inner circle had a direct exit to the outside; Zhang Qiu had seen it before.

The path to the exit would pass by Yu Xifeng’s house.

Someone lunged forward, aiming for the pack on Old Man Cai’s back.

“Old bastard, give it to me.”

Zhang Qiu clenched the electric baton Yu Xifeng had given him; a crackling sound of electricity rang out as he stepped back a step, not letting the man fall onto him.

The deeper inside, the thicker the smoke and the fewer the people.

Zhang Qiu felt uneasy.

Everyone was pushing toward the exit — was his choice really right?

Rationally, he convinced himself.

But going against the flow required great courage and determination.

The situation inside the inner circle was unclear.

Was his decision really based on weighing pros and cons?

Did he really have no selfish motives?

Did he not want to check on Yu Xifeng’s condition?

Flames surrounded the inner circle from all sides.

When Zhang Qiu stepped in, he saw the flickering flames inside.

His heart sank, but there was no turning back.

Where was the exit?

Where was Yu Xifeng?

…

The moment the flames rose, Deng Feiyu’s face broke into a stunned, joyous smile.

“Let’s die together.”

The gods will guide us at death’s end.

Yu Xifeng kicked hard, sending Deng Feiyu into the sea of flames.

Deng Feiyu felt an awakening in his heart, as if he had already seen the kingdom of the gods.

Pain.

So much pain.

Deng Feiyu screamed and howled in the fire.

“Ah—Help me—Save me—”

The priest never said it would hurt like this.

The fire swept toward them; Yu Xifeng had to retreat back into the room, watching the firelight outside with a dark expression.

She was trapped in this room.

Damn Deng Feiyu and his entire ancestral line.

Next door, the Zhang family finally woke up.

Deng Feiyu treated all beings equally in madness — even his own home was doused with gasoline.

Deng Mifen tried to open the door, but it was blocked from outside, the flames scorching it hot.

At that moment, she still didn’t understand what was happening.

Finally, Deng Mifen’s husband chopped open the door with a machete.

Once outside, they saw Deng Feiyu rolling in the fire, wailing.

Deng Mifen tried to rush forward to save her brother but was pulled back by her husband.

“Deng Mifen, look clearly — it’s Deng Feiyu who set the fire!” her husband roared.

Deng Mifen froze where she stood.

The gasoline cans at the doorway.

The fallen matchbox was from their own home too.