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Before the apocalypse, City A was a major first-tier city with a leading economy. It was among the first cities to establish a refugee shelter.
As news of the shelter spread, many people eagerly packed their belongings and set off with their families, believing that once they reached the shelter, they would be well taken care of.
However, they overlooked one crucial fact—City A alone had nearly ten million residents before the disaster. Even after accounting for those who perished during the torrential rains and those unwilling to seek refuge, the number of people heading to the shelter remained substantial.
Furthermore, the military was also bringing in refugees from surrounding towns. The hastily built shelters had limited space and could not possibly accommodate everyone under comfortable conditions.
The best the shelter could provide was the bare minimum—just enough food and warmth to keep people from starving or freezing. Beyond that, the authorities neither had the resources nor the capacity to offer more.
When news of the shelter reached their residential complex, those who had been oppressed saw it as a beacon of hope. Over the next half-month, groups of people left one after another, making the neighborhood noticeably quieter.
During their last two outings, Shu Xin and her group could clearly sense that the lurking gazes watching them had decreased significantly. Those who remained were mostly:
“Bang—”
A moment of distraction, and Shu Xin suddenly found herself slammed to the ground by Yan Mo in a swift back throw. The dull thud of her body hitting the cushioned mat, combined with the jarring pain, snapped her out of her daze instantly.
“In combat, the biggest mistake you can make is losing focus! If your opponent had been a real enemy just now, you’d already be dead!”
Shu Xin looked up at Yan Mo’s striking face, but instead of his usual warmth, she saw a furrowed brow and a stern, unreadable expression. His tone was sharp and displeased.
This was the first time Yan Mo had ever shown anger toward her. Shu Xin knew she was at fault, so she didn’t argue. Instead, she started to get up, planning to calm him down.
Just as she pressed her hands against the mat to lift herself, a shadow fell over her. The familiar warmth of Yan Mo’s palm, even through her clothes, pressed gently against her waist as he effortlessly helped her stand upright.
“I know I was wrong. I shouldn’t have lost focus. I promise it won’t happen again. Please don’t be mad.”
She stood there obediently, hands clasped behind her back, looking like a schoolgirl caught daydreaming in class, standing before a strict teacher. With her head bowed in genuine remorse, she sincerely admitted her mistake.
Yan Mo gazed at her lowered head, and his anger softened slightly. But he didn’t let it go easily—if he forgave her now, she would only reflect on it because he was mad, not because she truly understood the severity of her mistake.
“You make mistakes as quickly as you apologize. If I let this go, you’ll do it again next time, won’t you? Go stand against the wall in a military stance for an hour. Reflect on why you’ve been repeatedly making mistakes in training. Think about the root cause.”
After saying this, Yan Mo turned and left the training room without looking back, leaving Shu Xin alone.
In all the time she had known Yan Mo, this was the first time he had ever been this harsh with her.
Watching his departing figure, Shu Xin felt a lump rise in her throat. Her nose tingled with suppressed grievance, and a wave of emotions surged within her. Gritting her teeth, she stomped over to the wall and stood at attention.
Meanwhile, in another room…
Three people sat in front of a screen, watching the monitor feed displaying Shu Xin’s expression.
“Mo-ge, maybe you should use a different approach? Won’t this just make Sister-in-law misunderstand you? What if she takes it too hard?” Bu Xiangyuan voiced his concern hesitantly.
Mu Qimai didn’t say anything, but his gaze suggested he shared the same sentiment.
Yan Mo sat on the sofa, his eyes fixed on the monitor, watching the girl’s slightly reddened eyes. His fingers curled into a fist—he nearly gave in to the urge to go and comfort her.
But he couldn’t.
He had sensed Shu Xin’s growing complacency lately. If she didn’t realize this and correct herself in time, it could cost her life one day. Today presented the perfect opportunity to make her truly reflect.
The apocalypse was merciless.
In a real battle, even the smallest distraction could mean death.
Survival of the fittest wasn’t just a saying—it was the harsh reality of their world.