Chapter 72: The Prisoners — Two Women and One Man

“Bullshit! This house is empty—it’s ours now. If you wanna stay, big bro here welcomes you too,” the younger man sneered.

As they stepped out, light from the bedroom spilled into the hallway.

Now, they could clearly see both men. The one speaking was younger, while the other was older—around his forties. The older one was none other than the man from the second floor.

“Ugh, this stinks like hell,” someone muttered.

“Enough with the talk. Since you’re here, none of you are leaving,” the older man growled.

He looked ferocious, not like a decent person at all. As he spoke, he grabbed a weapon—it looked like a long watermelon knife.

“Kill the men. Keep the women.”

His tone was final, with no room for compromise.

Tension filled the air—there was no turning back now.

With a swift kick, Song Yi knocked the younger man to the ground.

“You’re dead!” the older man roared and lunged at Song Yi with the knife.

But Song Yi sidestepped quickly, avoiding the strike with ease.

Zhang Kaiyang, who was just behind, got bumped and stumbled.

Jiang Yuan quickly caught him and pulled him back to give Song Yi space to fight.

Song Yi had the skills—but only if others didn’t get in the way.

The younger man recovered, grabbed a stick nearby, and joined the fight.

Seeing things escalate, Jiang Yuan gripped her baseball bat tightly.

One solid swing and a pig-like scream filled the room—the younger man now focused all his rage on her.

“You bitch, I’ll kill you!”

Jiang Yuan quickly retreated. Song Yi could handle one opponent, but not both at once.

The young man thrashed wildly with the stick. Jiang Yuan timed it just right, parrying with her bat.

The impact sent pain shooting through her hands.

Then, with lightning speed, she kicked him—hard.

“AHH!”

She’d aimed at his groin, the weakest spot—had to make it count.

He immediately doubled over, dropped the stick, and clutched himself, face contorted in pain.

From behind, Zhang Kaiyang delivered another kick, sending him crashing face-first into the floor.

Meanwhile, Song Yi had subdued the older man from the second floor.

They turned on a tactical light—360 degrees of illumination.

Under normal circumstances, they’d never use something this bright, but the situation was dire.

“Jiang Yuan, check the room,” Song Yi instructed.

“Okay!”

As he dragged the two men into the living room, Zhang Kaiyang brought ropes to tie them up.

Jiang Yuan knew what to expect—but even seeing it with her own eyes made her tremble.

Ye Mianmian came to help but screamed as soon as she saw inside, then quickly covered her mouth.

You couldn’t blame her.

Jiang Yuan’s hands shook too.

On the bed was a woman with disheveled hair—her face barely visible.

She was suspended by a rope, her body curled up with her rear facing outward, not even resting on the bed. Any slight movement made her swing.

Her body was covered in bruises and blood—clearly tortured.

“Mianmian, look…” Jiang Yuan followed her gaze to the foot of the bed, where two dog cages sat.

Inside were two people, seemingly crammed in.

“Those bastards! Mianmian, help me!”

“Okay!”

Jiang Yuan drew a knife. The woman whimpered, unable to turn or understand what was happening.

“Don’t be scared. We’re here to help you.”

She cut the ropes. Ye Mianmian could barely hold back tears—human cruelty was terrifying.

“Mianmian, don’t cry. See if there are any clothes.”

“Right!”

She wiped her tears and gathered clothes scattered on the floor.

The woman was barely conscious, clearly tortured beyond recognition.

“Here, big sister. Put this on,” Ye Mianmian said gently.

But the woman didn’t take the clothes—instead, she crawled frantically toward the bed’s underside.

The two cages began to stir. “Mama, Mama…”

Hearing that, Jiang Yuan teared up.

The woman had endured all this to protect her children.

That’s why she’d reacted so strongly earlier when they said “switch the woman.”

Just like Jiang Yuan in her past life—for her daughter Xiao Nuan.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you.”

Together, she and Ye Mianmian opened the cages. Inside were two teenagers—a boy and a girl.

Neither wore clothes. They’d clearly been abused.

The girl looked slightly better off. The boy had deep cuts on his body from being forced into the cage.

Both looked terrified.

“Mama!” the woman cried, embracing her children and sobbing uncontrollably.

Ye Mianmian found more clothes in the closet—likely taken from other victims.

“Big sister, don’t cry. Get dressed or you’ll catch cold.”

The woman finally composed herself, got up with difficulty, and took the clothes.

“Thank you,” she whispered hoarsely.

“Big sister, we’ve already taken care of those two bastards. They’re in the living room. You and your kids should dress first and decide what to do next.”

Jiang Yuan’s meaning was clear: she wouldn’t judge.

In the apocalypse, help whenever you can.

If someone had helped her in her previous life, maybe Xiao Nuan wouldn’t have…

Leaving the room to the family, Jiang Yuan and Ye Mianmian stepped outside.

About five minutes later, the woman and her children emerged, somewhat cleaned up.

They’d tied their hair back. Though their faces were bruised, their features were visible now.

“What are you looking at? Squat!” Zhang Kaiyang shouted, kicking the second-floor man.

The family flinched—especially the kids, who immediately hid behind their mother.

“Bastard!” Jiang Yuan roared, kicking the man’s head.

He covered his head in pain but had no choice but to take it. Song Yi had clearly beaten him badly already.

But he still looked defiant.

“Big sister, here,” Ye Mianmian said, handing over a knife—probably once used for fruit.

It was a small weapon—but in the apocalypse, that meant survival.

The woman’s eyes grew cold and determined as she took the knife.

Step by step, she moved toward the two men.

The second-floor man smirked arrogantly, lifting his chin, eyes full of threats—as if daring her to act.