Chapter 14: Let Him Take Whatever He Wants

The road wasn’t finished yet, but it was already fairly smooth—just waiting to be compacted and paved with asphalt. If it rained, this stretch would be completely impassable. The dirt hadn’t been pressed down, and any car trying to drive on it would just sink into the mud like a sinking ship. Luckily, the sky was clear now.

After about twenty minutes of bouncing over uneven ground, Xiao Qiang’s car finally reached the end of the road. Using the same trick he’d used before—ripping apart the construction barriers—he finally got the vehicle onto the real pavement.

The city was pitch-black, no lights anywhere. With his headlights cutting through the darkness, he saw bodies scattered everywhere—fallen, motionless. Cold wind swept across the ruins, making the silence feel heavier, more sinister. Xiao Qiang didn’t dare get out. Heart pounding, he followed the memory of where he’d last seen a security outpost and found it after a few tense minutes.

The security station had two floors. He stepped out of the car, pushed open the front door, and shouted, “Hello? Is anyone here? I need help!” His voice echoed back at him from the empty halls. No answer. He tried again: “There’s someone hurt in my car! Can anyone help us? Anyone?” Two full minutes passed. Nothing. Just silence.

So he started wandering around. Truth be told, places like this weren’t exactly tourist spots for ordinary people. Most folks only came here to file paperwork or get ID proofs. Xiao Qiang had never been inside one before, so curiosity got the better of him. He took a few steps forward—and froze.

There, lying face-down on the floor, was a human shape. His heart nearly jumped out of his throat. *People scare people,* they say—and sometimes, that fear can actually kill you.

He forced himself to calm down, took a closer look. The body wasn’t moving. Definitely dead. Still, he edged closer, bracing himself. Then he saw the face.

It was wrong. Not just pale or bruised—something deeper was off. The facial muscles looked twisted, as if someone had yanked them sideways. Xiao Qiang’s stomach flipped. He didn’t even want to think about what might’ve caused that. Before he could decide whether to check further, a wave of nausea hit him like a freight train. He bolted out the door, leaned against the wall, and vomited violently—like a dam breaking under pressure. He kept retching until there was nothing left but bitter bile. Probably everything he’d eaten the night before had decided to come back up.

He was just a regular guy. Seeing corpses triggered a natural, gut-level reaction. That was normal.

Back in the car, he grabbed a bottle of water, rinsed his mouth, then pulled on a pair of latex gloves. Steeling himself, he returned to the building. This time, he fought down the urge to throw up again. He patted down the corpse—only a keychain. Nothing else.

Why hadn’t this guy evacuated with everyone else? Xiao Qiang didn’t have time to wonder. He started testing keys on doors. And surprisingly, several opened. But nothing stood out—no files, no evidence, just standard rooms:户籍室 (household registration), interrogation chambers. Nothing useful on the first floor.

He went upstairs, room by room, unlocking each door.

Finally, at the very back, he found a room with no sign. Inside, an old desk sat beside a massive safe—huge, intimidating. At least 1.5 meters tall, a meter wide, half a meter deep. Xiao Qiang’s eyes lit up. *This is it.*

He scanned the room. On the side, a metal drum labeled “Gun Test Bucket.” He knew he’d found the right place.

But the safe… damn, it was huge. He’d never claimed to be some kind of superman. He’d bet he couldn’t kick it open with one good boot. It looked heavy—probably over a hundred kilos. He circled it, thinking. How do you crack something like this?

After a few minutes, he gave up. Left the station, drove back toward the city. Twenty minutes later, he arrived at a wholesale hardware market—specializing in tools and supplies. This time, he didn’t shout. He moved fast. Door after door, he searched. If a shop wouldn’t open, he smashed the glass. After an hour of chaos, he ended up with two big bags of gear.

At a generator shop, he stole a small diesel generator and two jerry cans of fuel. At another, he grabbed a plasma cutter. He’d seen these tools before—back when his dad worked in a factory. He didn’t know if they still worked. But he’d bring them home anyway.

Now, for the first time, Xiao Qiang felt like the world belonged to him. No rules. No limits. The sheer freedom was intoxicating. He even felt a little… stiff down below.

Realizing how ridiculous that was, he quickly ducked back inside and grabbed a hand crank.

He stood in front of the car, thinking. Then ran to a nearby store and dragged out a flat pallet jack. Crossed the street to a general goods shop, grabbed a thick bundle of rope. *Should be enough,* he thought.

Back at the security station, he secured the pallet jack—tied both sides tightly with rope, threaded the other end through the trunk and tied it to the metal rod on the headrest. Then he climbed upstairs, rolled the safe out, and began dragging it toward the truck.

To most people, this would’ve been impossible. But to Xiao Qiang, it was just another workout. He braced himself, lifted with both arms—*Huh!*—and hoisted the thing straight up. In less than two minutes, it was on the cart. Rope wrapped tight. Done.

He laid a strip of carpet from the station floor across the rear bumper, padding the impact. Satisfied, he drove slowly back along the same route, heading toward Xingfu Town.

Every few seconds, the bumper bumped against the ground. Each thud made Xiao Qiang wince. He hated it. But what could he do? By the time he got home, it was almost 5 a.m.

He stepped out and stared. Even with the carpet, the back of the car was scratched all over. His heart sank. *One thousand bucks gone.* Poof.

The noise woke up the neighbors. They rushed out, stunned. What the hell was he bringing back? A mountain of junk? Xiao Qiang waved them over. “Help me carry everything inside. Lock the front door when we’re done.”

When he told Old Wang he wanted to break open the safe, Old Wang just sighed. He knew brute force wouldn’t work. He didn’t even know what was inside—but he also knew Xiao Qiang wouldn’t back down. So they started brainstorming.

Old Wang had spent years working in factories—knew every tool, every job. He was a jack-of-all-trades. The truth was, people at the bottom of the ladder often picked up more practical skills because they couldn’t afford to pay others. No one hired someone for $100 just to unclog a toilet. They did it themselves. These skills might not look impressive on paper, but in a crisis? They were pure gold.

Old Wang fired up the diesel generator. He cranked it for ages. Nothing. After a few minutes, he muttered, “Looks broken.”

Xiao Qiang smirked. “You sure you know what you’re doing?”

Old Wang shot him a sideways glance. “Want to try yourself?”

That stung. Xiao Qiang grabbed his angle grinder, turned it on. *Zzzzzip—zzzzip.* He ground away for ten minutes. All he got was a thin white line. Frustrated, he grabbed a sledgehammer and started smashing. *Bang-bang-bang!* Ten minutes of pounding. Only a tiny dent.

He dropped to the ground, exhausted. “This thing’s too hard,” he groaned. “We’re not getting through this.”