By the wide road stood a delicate three-story building. The more than four-meter-high iron fence, along with the meticulously trimmed greenery, separated this building from the surrounding tall, gray structures, giving it a dignified and elegant appearance. At the top of the eaves facing the street, a round coin emblem unique to banks hung in the air.

Henry Sutton had carefully studied the ancient city planning blueprints. According to the relevant information, this was the branch office of the Industrial and Commercial Bank in the city. Unlike ordinary business outlets, the main function here was to collect and centralize the city’s obsolete currency. After counting and calculation, the money would be destroyed under supervision. This kind of work, which required a certain level of confidentiality, made it impossible for the office to simply rent a suitable venue like a regular business hall. The building was solely funded by the bank, and all construction materials were selected for high protection. In particular, the supporting walls and foundation fully met the level-five earthquake resistance standard.

The car was parked by the roadside. Henry Sutton cautiously observed his surroundings, making sure there was nothing unusual. He gripped his axe and gun in both hands, slowly passed through the open glass door, and entered the empty first-floor lobby.

A deathly silence filled the air, the oppressive atmosphere almost suffocating.

At the front of the lobby was a more than twenty-meter-long upright reception counter. The overall design was similar to that of a hotel, and blood was splattered everywhere on the smooth terrazzo floor. Next to the stairs lay the corpse of a woman, her face mangled beyond recognition. If not for the two high heels scattered near her ankle bones, it would have been impossible to determine her gender.

Henry Sutton bent low, quickly crossed the lobby, and found the small door leading to the backyard. After confirming the exit was clear and there were no signs of zombies nearby, he firmly bolted the door and strode back to the front hall, nodding to Grace Sutton who was waiting there. She immediately opened her backpack, took out two chain locks from the hardware store, and tightly fastened them to the handles on both sides of the glass door.

Including the restroom, there were only six rooms on the first floor, all furnished with various office equipment. The only living things were the flies buzzing around the scraps of flesh.

Henry Sutton wasted no time. He used a soft lock to secure the door to the underground vault, called Grace Sutton over, and together they dragged sofas and cabinets to block both sides of the staircase, leaving only a one-meter-wide exit.

“Now, we need to clear every room, floor by floor.”

Glancing at the steel pipe tightly gripped in the girl’s hand and the dagger hanging at her waist, Henry Sutton said seriously, “Don’t be afraid! Zombies are only interested in living creatures. Yesterday’s chaos has already drawn them to other parts of the city. This isn’t a public place, so there shouldn’t be many zombies left in the building. Stay close to me, don’t shout, watch your back and sides, and I’ll protect you.”

Grace Sutton was covered in grime, her face even grayer than usual from sweat and dust. Her hair was tangled with cobwebs, and her stockings were torn in several places. She nodded forcefully, her expression tense.

Suddenly, Henry Sutton smiled, reached out, pinched Grace Sutton’s cheek, and mischievously rubbed it.

The action was completely unexpected. The girl’s eyes widened in shock, then quickly turned angry. Before she could react, Henry Sutton had already let go, placed his finger to his lips, glanced upstairs, and gave a gentle, reassuring smile.

Even he couldn’t explain why he would joke with Grace Sutton at a time like this.

This body was very young, only twenty-one years old. But his true psychological age was over forty.

Maybe it was a way to show the girl she could trust him?

Or perhaps it was a release of his long-suppressed nature?

Henry Sutton put away his smile, gripped his weapon, and slowly ascended the stairs.

He had just said: he would protect her.

……

The hallway was carpeted—thick and soft. Stepping on it felt very comfortable.

Henry Sutton used the most direct method, swinging the fire axe to smash the door lock and entering the first room.

Unlike the office area on the first floor, the decor here was identical to a luxury hotel suite, perhaps even more lavish. The mattress and carpet were both famous brands of the era, the wooden wine cabinet neatly stocked with “XO” and “Moutai,” and the condoms on the nightstand were not the common “Xiongfeng” or “Jianwei,” but top-tier “Durex” in exquisite packaging and a full range of sizes.

There were no zombies, the room was very clean, and a faint fragrance lingered in the air.

Grace Sutton looked at the expensive bottles in the wine cabinet with a hint of resentment. If possible, she would have much preferred to see instant noodles and sausages there—even a pack of Fuling pickled mustard would have been nice.

Room 201: safe.

Room 202: safe.

Room 203: no problem either...

Grace Sutton followed closely, lips pressed together, silently observing her surroundings, and occasionally shooting a dissatisfied glance at Henry Sutton walking ahead.