Apocalypse Star House Hoarding-Chapter 157

Yu Xi silently moved to the door. Unlike double-occupancy rooms, the door of this private hospital room was a single panel without a visible glass window, replaced instead with a peephole.
At this hour, in an isolated hospital, someone disregarding quarantine protocols to knock on her door was suspicious.
She leaned against the door and peered through the peephole. The dimly lit corridor outside was completely empty.
No one?
Yu Xi frowned. She was certain she had heard knocking, and there hadn’t been any sound of footsteps leaving. Why was no one outside?
Standing silently behind the door, she neither spoke nor opened it. She didn’t even move a step, suppressing her breathing to the faintest whisper.
After waiting for a while, just as she was about to leave the door and return to the couch, the knocking came again. It was the same as before—two soft knocks, unhurried and deliberate.
This time, standing close to the door, Yu Xi could discern that the sound was coming from the lower part of the door.
Due to the limitations of the peephole and the dim corridor lighting, the lower section of the door near the floor was a blind spot. Previously, she hadn’t paid attention to this area because she hadn’t considered the possibility that someone might hide there after knocking.
Adjusting her position, Yu Xi looked down through the peephole and saw a small figure.
Judging by the size, it seemed to be a child, no older than five or six. Small and hunched into a ball near the door, the child’s small frame explained why she hadn’t noticed them earlier.
Still, Yu Xi remained silent. After a moment, the figure outside seemed to grow impatient. They knocked again, softly, and then spoke in a weak, trembling voice with a hint of sobbing:
“Is anyone there? It’s so dark outside… I’m scared…”
The voice was that of a young girl, her fearful sobs making her sound even more pitiable.
Yet Yu Xi remained unmoved. To her, the entire situation felt wrong.
In the dead of night, in a quarantined hospital, who would allow such a small child to wander around alone? Moreover, every hospital floor had a nurses’ station. How could a child appear in the corridor without being noticed by the staff?
The sobbing continued faintly, but there was no response from inside the room.
Then, all of a sudden, the crying stopped. The small figure slowly lifted its head and turned toward the peephole, revealing a ferocious smile.
“I know you’re in there…”
Through the peephole, Yu Xi locked eyes with a pair of blood-red, lifeless pupils. The face outside had no skin left; aside from the eyes, the rest of the features were a mangled mess of flesh and blood. As the figure grinned, its mouth stretched unnaturally wide, exposing white teeth and a bright red gum line.
It was a blood ghoul!
From the looks of it, this was a fully mutated individual. However, it still retained its ability to speak and had the intelligence to pretend to be pitiful in order to trick her into opening the door.
Yu Xi suddenly remembered that although the lights in the room were off, there was an automatic dim light near the floor by the door. Its purpose was to provide minimal illumination for anyone entering at night.
The dim light wasn’t bright enough to alert someone outside the door, but if they crouched down, they could see the light shining under the doorframe and confirm whether anyone was inside.
So, that’s why the blood ghoul had crouched there—it had known all along that someone was inside.
If it were someone else, they might not have been curious enough to open the door at first, but the weak and pitiful sobbing could have evoked sympathy and led them to open it later.
Had the blood ghouls evolved? So quickly?
Yu Xi’s triple-edged military knife appeared in her hand. She considered stepping out to deal with the creature but hesitated as she thought of the hallway’s surveillance cameras and the police outside the hospital. Acting rashly could result in footage being recorded, potentially bringing trouble for her and Yu Zhengqing. If she were alone, it wouldn’t matter—she could easily assume a new identity. But now, she wasn’t by herself…
In the few seconds she spent deliberating, the blood ghoul outside suddenly disappeared. Even considering the hallway’s dimly lit blind spots, the speed at which it vanished was unnaturally fast, and she hadn’t heard a single footstep.
It seemed the evolved blood ghouls not only retained their linguistic abilities but had also gained heightened intelligence and physical capabilities.
Yu Xi stared at the door for a moment before taking a nearby cabinet of similar size from her Star House storage and placing it tightly against the door, adding another layer of security.
Afterward, she checked all the windows and the balcony door, ensuring they were locked and secure. Finally, she moved the couch, originally positioned by the room’s entrance, next to Yu Zhengqing’s hospital bed.
Lying on the couch, she began browsing the internet for updates on the outside world.
Earlier in the day, videos and posts about the blood ghouls had been sporadic—appearing and disappearing quickly.
That was normal, given how grotesque and terrifying the blood ghouls were. The authorities likely wanted to limit the spread of such imagery to prevent public panic.
However, as the night wore on, controlling the flow of information online seemed to be growing increasingly difficult.
In the areas of Zhou City that hadn’t yet been quarantined or sealed off, s of new cases of blood ghouls or semi-blood ghouls surfaced again.
Families who initially thought their loved ones were merely suffering from a skin condition awoke to find their flesh decaying and falling off overnight. Some still retained their ability to speak, pleading with their families for help even as they tore at their own flesh. It was almost impossible for people to ignore such heart-wrenching cries, and most chose not to it to the authorities.
What they didn’t realize was that this desperate display of weakness was an instinctive behavior of the blood ghouls, designed to ensure the mutation process completed. Almost every blood ghoul at this stage cried and showed vulnerability, regardless of whether the person nearby was a family member.
By the time the mutation was complete, turning them into fully transformed blood ghouls, it was too late.
Many residents called the police, ing screams or strange noises coming from their neighbors’ homes. By the time rescue teams arrived, the homes had already turned into horrific crime scenes.
Whether it was blood ghouls slaughtering normal humans or desperate humans killing their blood ghoul family members in self-defense, it was a grotesque nightmare for anyone still holding onto reason.
Blood spattered the walls, and in some cases, dismembered limbs lay scattered. Even seasoned officers who had dealt with numerous homicide cases couldn’t suppress the urge to vomit.
Despite officers trying to prevent other residents from approaching, some hid and captured the gruesome scenes on their phones.
These videos and photos began spreading across private groups and public platforms. Although authorities worked to ban them, new uploads kept appearing, making it impossible to contain.
Outside Zhou City, three other cities in C Country ed similar incidents, mostly in areas near international airports. Many of the videos showed quarantined hotels near the airports, while others came from random locations.
It was only then that the public learned about the airport quarantine zones. Some netizens even uploaded videos from foreign cities, noting that such incidents had started a few days earlier. While initially suppressed, the sheer volume of content eventually made it impossible to censor.
Yu Xi realized that L City wasn’t the first place to see Blood Mutation cases. About half a month earlier, a small town on the F Continent had already ed such cases.
However, because the F Continent was often the epicenter of various diseases and its local government was strict about containment, the news hadn’t spread widely.
In contrast, the infection had quietly spread.
Yu Xi calculated that her arrival in this mission world occurred half a month after the apocalypse began. No wonder it was rated as a medium-to-high difficulty world—she had arrived at the point of full-scale outbreak.
That night, the chaos outside was even worse than the night before. Blood ghouls, who were active at night, roamed the city freely. Screams, cries for help, and guttural roars echoed everywhere.
The hospital, surrounded by a hastily constructed quarantine wall, became a relatively safe zone.
However, new infections emerged within the hospital itself. The loudest disturbances came from other buildings, while the inpatient ward where Yu Xi and Yu Zhengqing stayed remained eerily quiet. Still, Yu Xi stayed on high alert, knowing there was an evolved blood ghoul in their building—one that could think, hide, and silently attack humans.
Yu Zhengqing woke up to the sound of gunfire. It seemed to be coming from just outside the hospital.
Turning his head, he saw Yu Xi standing by the window, gently parting the blinds, her expression dark as she observed the situation outside.
Noticing his movement, she turned to him. “Do you want to wear earplugs and go back to sleep?”
“Was that gunfire?”
“Yes,” Yu Xi replied. “A group of blood ghouls just ran past the quarantine wall outside. They clashed with the police stationed there. The blood ghouls were too strong, and there were too many of them, so the officers were forced to use their firearms.”
After explaining, she walked over to him, bypassing the sofa.
She noticed his pale complexion, his lips devoid of color, and his body trembling slightly.
Reaching out, she touched his forehead. “You have a fever? It’s burning hot. How long have you been like this? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t notice. Don’t worry, it probably started while I was asleep,” Yu Zhengqing said weakly, coughing a few times. His once healthy body had been severely weakened by multiple rounds of chemotherapy, leaving him vulnerable to illness from even minor colds or sleepless nights.
“Wait here. I’ll get some medicine.”
“Don’t go out. It’s dangerous outside,” he said, grabbing her arm in concern.
“Relax, I’ve got medicine in my bag. I won’t go outside,” Yu Xi reassured him.
She stepped into the outer room and retrieved antipyretic patches, fever medicine, and an ear thermometer from her bag (
Star House storage
), then returned to the room.
She first measured his temperature: 39.3°C (102.7°F). A high fever like this couldn’t have developed suddenly; he must have already been unwell before going to bed.
Pouring him some water, she handed him the medicine while admonishing him, “Don’t hide it if you’re feeling unwell, no matter the time. You must tell me, got it?”
Yu Zhengqing obediently accepted her scolding without a word of protest.
Sighing, Yu Xi went to the bathroom to wet a towel with cold water. She wiped his palms, arms, and face, then placed an antipyretic patch on his forehead. Finally, she handed him a pair of earplugs. “Get some rest. You’ll feel better after another sleep.”
The fever medicine had a sedative effect, and with the earplugs, Yu Zhengqing soon fell into a deep sleep.
Outside the quarantine wall, the conflict had ended. Half the blood ghouls were killed, and the rest fled, but at a heavy cost: half the officers were dead as well. The survivors were drenched in infected blood.
Yu Xi frowned. Without proper protective measures, such battles were a lose-lose situation.
Yu Xi leaned back on the couch, keeping watch over Yu Zhengqing as he continued to rest.
Just before dawn, someone knocked on the door of the private room once again.
Yu Xi woke instantly. At the same time, she noticed her silenced phone had several new messages.
The messages were from Lou Rui, informing her that the situation in Zhou City was worsening. He and Father Kong had arranged to relocate to a city where no mutations had yet broken out. Knowing she was at the hospital with Yu Zhengqing, Lou Rui had also arranged for a helicopter.
The helicopter was scheduled to arrive at dawn, landing on the inpatient building’s rooftop. Lou Rui planned to come before daybreak to escort them to the rooftop. He also mentioned that, due to limited space on the helicopter, they couldn’t bring all the patients from the building and hoped she would agree to quietly leave with him.
Yu Xi checked the time. It was just past 4 a.m., so the person knocking at the door was likely Lou Rui.
She moved the cabinet blocking the door and looked through the peephole. After confirming that no one else was outside except Lou Rui, she opened the door.
“Are you alright?” Lou Rui asked, closing the door behind him.
“I’m fine,” Yu Xi replied, shaking her head. “You could’ve just called me. There was no need to come in person. If you gave me the time, I would’ve brought my brother to the rooftop on time.”
“I wasn’t comfortable leaving it to chance,” Lou Rui said, putting away the silenced gun he had been holding. “Where’s Yu Zhengqing? Let’s move now.”
“He has a fever and just took medicine, so he probably won’t wake up,” Yu Xi said, pushing a lightweight wheelchair from the corner of the room. “We can use this.”
Lou Rui nodded, stepped into the room, and carefully lifted Yu Zhengqing into the wheelchair. Yu Xi grabbed a thick blanket to wrap him snugly and took two bottles of water from the nightstand, placing them in the wheelchair’s side pocket, in case he woke up thirsty.
“Let’s go.” Lou Rui opened the door again, retrieving his gun and taking the lead.
Yu Xi pushed the wheelchair out of the room and made sure to close the door behind her.
The hallway was dimly lit with nightlights, and the other private rooms were all closed. Most of them appeared to be empty. A prominent bloodstain trailed across the hallway floor, evidence of something—or someone—that had passed through earlier.
Instead of using the elevator, they headed for the stairwell.
With Yu Xi’s current strength, she could easily carry both the wheelchair and Yu Zhengqing upstairs. Lou Rui moved a few steps ahead, scouting the area.
From the eighth floor to the rooftop was only three floors, but as they reached the door to the tenth-floor hallway, Lou Rui suddenly stopped. He turned to Yu Xi and gestured for silence, mouthing: “Something’s here.”
Yu Xi instinctively knew he was referring to the evolved blood ghoul that had been outside their room earlier. Evolved blood ghouls were adept at hiding and ambushing, making them particularly troublesome.
To reach the rooftop, they would need to cross the hallway to another stairwell, which meant they had to go through the tenth floor.
Lou Rui motioned for her to stay put while he scouted ahead.
Yu Xi moved the wheelchair to the side of the stairwell door, watching as Lou Rui silently opened the door and slipped into the dark hallway beyond.
Barely two or three minutes passed before the silence was broken by the muffled sound of gunfire. It was followed by a suppressed grunt of pain, then the chaotic sounds of footsteps and impacts.
Then, all noise ceased.
The hallway fell silent, but the air grew thick with the metallic scent of blood.
Yu Xi glanced at Yu Zhengqing in the wheelchair, quickly unscrewed the caps of the two water bottles, and gripped her triple-edged military knife. She pushed open the stairwell door and silently stepped into the hallway.
She had barely taken two steps when the familiar sound of a silenced gun filled the air. Five shots rang out in quick succession, each bullet striking her body.
Yu Xi staggered, clutching the wounds in her abdomen and lower torso as she collapsed to her knees with a dull
thud
.
Before her, a pair of familiar legs came into view—the same legs that had walked ahead of her moments ago, clearing the way and keeping watch for danger. Now, that person was the greatest threat.
Lou Rui, standing before her, deactivated the protective light arc around himself and pointed his gun at her forehead. “Sorry—”
Before he could finish, a sharp blade materialized out of thin air, slicing his weapon cleanly in two.
Yu Xi leapt to her feet in an instant. At the same time, an ice blade she controlled flew straight into Lou Rui’s body, piercing him.
Under the dim, flickering light, her face was cold and expressionless, without a trace of pain. The wounds where she had been shot showed no sign of blood.