Nan Muran looked at the men who had been on the same boat as the burly guy. “He’s dead now. You going to avenge him?”

“N-no… we’re not.”

“We were just temporarily teamed up. Didn’t even know him well.”

“We’ll leave right now. Please don’t kill me.”

The men on the inflatable raft turned pale and stammered as they tried to distance themselves from the dead man.

“Then get lost already.” Nan Muran sat down, her tone cold and sharp.

The group scrambled to flee, only to realize their raft was punctured.

There were five of them on board, and they all immediately fell into the water. The water was more than twenty meters deep—without the ability to swim, death was inevitable.

Two of them quickly began to flail and scream for help, but no matter how desperately they struggled or shouted, not a single bystander made a move to rescue them.

Nan Muran watched coldly as the two were completely submerged, then turned and left without a glance back.

The people on the boat didn’t know why their raft suddenly leaked, but those watching nearby had seen it clearly. After killing the man, the young girl had casually slashed the raft as she turned to leave.

She had moved so fast that no one had time to react.

In the apocalypse, anyone who managed to survive this long wasn’t a fool. They understood instantly—this harmless-looking girl was someone absolutely not to be provoked.

The crowd around her silently parted, making way for Nan Muran.

Tank sat upright in the kart boat, head held high like a little general clearly enjoying the attention.

“Can’t you be a little more low-key?” Nan Muran said helplessly.

Girl and dog sped their way back smoothly and arrived at the apartment building.

By now, the entire building had been flooded up to the tenth floor. It hadn’t risen in a week, and everyone had finally started to relax.

Nan Muran took Tank and climbed through the fire escape window into the eleventh floor.

After only a few steps, a shrill middle-aged woman’s voice rang out: “That old hag still hasn’t kicked it? Damn tough old thing.”

It was her aunt’s voice. She didn’t need to guess—”the old hag” referred to the Nan family’s elderly matriarch.

Nan Muran turned and made her way to the elevator area on the twelfth floor. A rank, rotting stench hit her nose, nearly making her gag.

The door to the twelfth floor was wide open.

In the corner near the elevator, a hunched figure was curled up, barely clinging to life. When she saw Nan Muran, her thin, bony hand trembled as it reached out.

“R-Ran…” the old woman’s eyes widened, filled with emotion. “Save… save Grandma.”

Nan Muran stood motionless a short distance away as the old woman collapsed and began to crawl toward her.

The commotion brought out the rest of the family—a family of four.

Looking at the group, all visibly thinner than before the apocalypse, Nan Muran couldn’t help but sneer. In her past life, she had been the idiot risking her life to scavenge supplies for them. They hadn’t lived nearly this miserably back then.

“Nan Muran, you’re not dead?” Nan Muting’s voice rose sharply when she recognized her.

Then she noticed Nan Muran’s face—more stunning than before the end of the world—and her fair, glowing skin. Jealousy surged wildly inside her.

Nan Muran glanced at them and replied blandly, “You’re not dead either.”

“Ranran…” the old woman began to sob, sounding like she was mourning the loss of a loved one.

“Didn’t you all claim to be such filial children? Is this how you treat your grandmother?” Nan Muran said mockingly.

Nan Mufeng glared at her. “You don’t get to point fingers here.”

Nan Muran nodded, turned, and made to leave.

“Nan Muran, stop right there!” Nan Muting blocked her way. “You’ve got food, don’t you?”

“Yeah, plenty. So?”

Nan Muting’s face lit up. “Then give us some!”

“Sure. But what do you have to trade for it?”

“We raised you for ten years! What’s wrong with asking for a little food? You—” Her aunt lunged forward. Once plump, her body was now gaunt, and her face even more sour and sharp.

But the moment she got close, she was stunned into silence by the murderous look in Nan Muran’s eyes.

Nan Muran stared coldly at her. “Remember what I said? One day, I’d rip that vile mouth of yours apart.”

“What are you talking about?” her aunt started to panic. She’d never seen Nan Muran like this before. That look in her eyes—it was terrifying.

Nan Muran pulled a dagger from behind her. “It’s time to make good on that promise.”

She grabbed her aunt by the collar, flipped her over, and kicked the back of her knees, forcing her to kneel.

“Mom—!”

“Nan Muran, you crazy bitch, stop!”

“Wife!”

All three family members shouted, but in the end, only Nan Mufeng rushed forward.

Not that it mattered—Tank pounced on him, pinning him to the ground and baring his teeth.

Nan Muran placed the dagger on her aunt’s face and, without hesitation, sliced it cleanly from the corner of her mouth, splitting the entire right side open.

Everyone, including the elderly matriarch, was frozen in shock. This bloodthirsty, brutal Nan Muran terrified them. They were so stunned, they didn’t even register that the dog—Tank—had clearly been missing for quite some time.

Nan Muting fell to the ground in fright, unable to lift her head to look at Nan Muran again.

Like tossing away a bag of trash, Nan Muran threw her aunt aside and looked at Tank. “Let’s go.”

Tank stood up and backed off, visibly repulsed by the strong smell of urine coming from the man he had pinned—Nan Mufeng had wet himself.

Her aunt scrambled and crawled back into the room, clutching her mutilated face and screaming as blood poured between her fingers.

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Nan Ping, Nan Mufeng, and Nan Muting all scurried back to their room too, not forgetting to slam the door shut behind them.

Nan Muran slowly crouched beside the paralyzed elderly woman, her tone as gentle as before. “Still want me to save you?”

But she was no longer that soft, obedient girl they used to control.

She was more like a madwoman who could kill without blinking. The old woman trembled her head from side to side, her whole body stiff like a puppet.

“I knew it. The ones inside—they’re the real family you chose.” Looking at the filth-covered, pitiful figure before her, Nan Muran’s voice was calm, but her words pierced the heart.

“Ranran…” As she and Tank ascended to the thirteenth floor, a voice called after her.

Nan Muran turned to see Qi Li, and frowned. Annoying people really did like to gather. “What do you want?”

Hearing her cold, emotionless tone, Qi Li was momentarily speechless. “I’m just… glad you’re safe.”

“There’s no need to pretend everything’s fine between us. Because there’s nothing between us.” Seeing the way he looked at her with those “affectionate” eyes, Nan Muran nearly lost her breakfast.

Back when he was 1.86 meters tall, always clean and gentle, Qi Li might’ve been trash—but at least he was nice-looking trash. But now? Just a sickly skeleton with sallow skin trying to look infatuated—Nan Muran wanted to kick him in the face.

Qi Li’s eyes showed pain. He wanted to tell her he regretted everything. But faced with her cold, distant demeanor, he couldn’t get the words out. He didn’t want to give up on her. This version of Nan Muran was beautiful—he wanted to be close to her, to hold her in his arms.