Thuong Sinh reached the dormitory door.
The hallway lights shone down on him, chasing away some of the lingering cold clinging to his body. As soon as he crossed the threshold, three pairs of eyes in the room turned toward him simultaneously.
Van Binh was the first to react.
He had been sitting with his back against the bed, holding a half-finished soda can he had obtained from who-knows-where. Seeing Thuong Sinh, he bolted upright with a loud thud, causing the can to hit the floor and roll away.
"Holy—!"
He stared at Thuong Sinh from head to toe, his gaze finally fixing on the bandage wrapped across his right eye and the dried bloodstains on his clothes.
"You're actually alive?"
His voice was slightly hoarse. Minh Thong stood by the table, wiping his saber; when he saw Thuong Sinh, his movements hitched for a split second. His eyes showed little emotion.
"You're back."
It was a very short statement.
"Yeah."
Thuong Sinh closed the door behind him. The door clicked shut, as if severing him from the outside world.
"Not dead," he said, his voice raspy but calm. The sentence caused the room to fall into silence for a moment.
Van Binh was the first to break the atmosphere. He took two steps forward, looking closely at the bandage, and frowned. "Are you joking? You call this 'not dead'?"
Thuong Sinh unstrapped his sword and leaned it against the wall. Only then did the other three notice his hands were trembling slightly—not from fear, but from an exhaustion so deep he lacked the strength to maintain his balance perfectly.
Minh Thong stepped forward, supporting him by the shoulder. His voice deepened. "Sit down."
Thuong Sinh did not refuse.
He sat on the edge of the bed, leaning his back against the wall, and let out a long sigh. Only now did the tension truly leave his body.
Thanh Tien quietly took out a medical kit, placed it on the table, and opened the lid. "Re-wrap that bandage. The blood has dried."
Van Binh stared at him for a few more seconds, then lowered his voice, dropping his usual playful tone. "What on earth did you encounter out there?"
Thuong Sinh paused for a beat before replying slowly, "Something that shouldn't exist at the Mid-tier."
The room fell back into silence. No one asked further; the wounds on his body were answer enough.
The night passed slowly.
Thuong Sinh didn't remember when he fell asleep. He only knew that when his consciousness sank, his body ached so much he lacked the mental energy to think about anything else. His arm, shoulder, and half of his face all throbbed with a dull pain.
The next morning.
Faint sunlight filtered through the dormitory window. Thuong Sinh opened his eyes. His first sensation wasn't one of danger, but of heaviness.
He tried to circulate his True Essence.
The True Essence flowed through his body—slow, but stable. His wounds hadn't healed, but they weren't getting worse. In the hallway, the sounds of footsteps and bustling chatter grew louder. Today was a regular day, which meant routine training.
Van Binh, Minh Thong, and Thanh Tien had left the room early. Before leaving, no one said much, only telling him to rest properly. Thuong Sinh had no intention of joining the training, nor did he intend to push himself.
He sat leaning against the bed, eyes closed, nourishing his spirit.
Around noon, the door was flung open.
Boom—!
Thuong Sinh opened his eyes.
Van Binh burst in, his face so ecstatic he couldn't hide it. Before he had even found his footing, he blurted out, "Have you heard the news?!"
Thuong Sinh glanced at him, his voice raspy. "No."
"Then listen carefully."
Van Binh leaned his hands on his knees, lowering his voice slightly but unable to contain his excitement.
"You're famous."
Thuong Sinh frowned. "What?"
Van Binh laughed. "Not normal famous. In the safe zone right now, people are spreading word about a guy—" He paused, looking directly at Thuong Sinh. "A guy who went out alone for three days on an independent mission. Killed countless Mid-tier zombies. And most importantly, killed a mutated Mid-tier zombie."
The room went quiet for a moment. Thuong Sinh had no special reaction; he only exhaled softly.
"Do you know what they're calling you?" Van Binh chuckled, emphasizing the words: "The Madman."
He gave a thumbs up. "So mad he doesn't seem like a normal person."
Thuong Sinh remained silent. He felt no glory, no pride. He said slowly, "They only see the result."
Van Binh froze, and the atmosphere in the room settled. He stopped laughing. He stood up straight and scratched his head. "...Yeah."
Then he added, his voice more serious, "But anyway, from today on, no one in this safe zone will dare look at you as a rookie anymore."
Thuong Sinh didn't answer. Fame, to him, was merely something external. It didn't make his wounds hurt less, nor did it make the next zombie half a beat slower.
He closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall.
Knock. Knock.
The knocking was light but clear. Before Van Binh could react, the door—already slightly ajar—was pushed open.
It was Lam Uyen.
In her hand, she carried a metal lunchbox containing simple food; the scent of hot food wafted from it. Behind her, Tran Nghien peeked out, holding a small box in both hands, her eyes filled with both curiosity and worry.
"Sorry, are we interrupting?"
Lam Uyen lowered her voice, as if afraid of disturbing the peace in the room.
Van Binh was briefly stunned, then immediately stepped aside. "No, not at all."
Tran Nghien's gaze quickly fell upon the bandage over Thuong Sinh's right eye. The girl bit her lip and stepped to the side of the bed. "Uncle... does it still hurt?"
To the side, Van Binh quickly turned away to hide his laughter. His shoulders shook violently, he was clearly struggling to hold it in.
"Cough."
He let out a light cough, trying to look serious, but the corners of his mouth still twitched.
Thuong Sinh shot him a glance.
Van Binh immediately straightened his back, staring at the ceiling as if he hadn't been the one laughing. "I... I'll go outside for some air."
Lam Uyen was also slightly taken aback by the term "Uncle," then smiled instinctively, but didn't correct Tran Nghien. In these circumstances, age was no longer important.
Thuong Sinh looked at Tran Nghien, his voice deepening and intentionally slowing down. "It doesn't hurt."
The girl blinked. "Really?"
"Yes."
Tran Nghien looked at the bandage on his eye for a few more seconds, then seemed to let out a sigh of relief, clutching her small box tighter. "That's good then."
Lam Uyen placed the food bag on the table, her voice softening. "We heard you were injured, so we came to check. The logistics kitchen had some hot food left today; I managed to get an extra portion."
She opened the metal box and pushed it toward him. "Eat. You shouldn't have an empty stomach when you're injured."
The scent of hot rice spread, very different from the smell of blood and rust out there.
Tran Nghien placed her small box on the table, her voice smaller. "This is porridge. It's easier to eat."
Thuong Sinh looked at the box of porridge for a moment. He nodded. "Thank you."
It wasn't a polite thanks. It was sincere.
Between the scent of hot food and the soft yellow light in the room, the tension dissipated.
Thuong Sinh opened the lid of the box. Steam rose, the scent of cooked rice mingling with a hint of light meat and chopped vegetables. It was simple, but in that moment, it made his stomach growl audibly. During his three days outside, he had eaten haphazardly—sometimes relying only on pills to keep going. The sensation of eating a proper meal suddenly felt like a luxury.
He picked up a spoon and took a small scoop; the temperature was just right, neither too hot nor cold.
Thuong Sinh ate slowly—not because he was mindful of others watching, but because he wanted to clearly sense every mouthful. The warmth spread through his stomach, and the exhaustion accumulated over the past few days softened slightly.
No one in the room spoke.
Van Binh leaned against the closet, arms crossed, watching him eat without his usual teasing. Minh Thong and Thanh Tien had entered the room at some point. Minh Thong sat at the corner of the table, flipping a small knife over and over, though his gaze occasionally flickered toward Thuong Sinh. Thanh Tien stood by the window, drawing the curtains to dampen the light so that only a soft golden glow remained in the room.
Lam Uyen sat on a chair, her voice gentle. "It must have been very difficult out there."
Thuong Sinh paused his spoon for a beat, then nodded. "Yes."
Just one word.
But no one needed him to say more. The bandage on his eye, the scratches on his armor, and the sword that hadn't been wiped clean told the whole story.
Tran Nghien sat on the edge of the bed, her legs swinging slightly. She stole glances at Thuong Sinh for a long time before whispering, "Uncle... don't get hurt again next time."
Thuong Sinh froze. He looked up at the girl, his gaze softening briefly—very quickly, but enough for a keen observer to notice.
"I will try."
It wasn't a promise, just a statement of truth.
He finished eating, put the spoon down, and neatly closed the lid. In that moment, this small, old dormitory room felt like a true shelter—not because of thick walls or strong locks, but because there were people here waiting for him to return.
Thuong Sinh leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. This time, he didn't think about mutated zombies, the southwest direction, or the road ahead.
He simply let his body truly rest.