Ch 38: Opening a Survival School Before the Zombie Outbreak

Gradually, students finally began to notice that a new advanced instance had appeared inside the simulated combat chamber. After more than a month, quite a few people had already gathered the courage to challenge advanced instances, and forum posts discussing them grew more numerous by the day. Faced with this newly updated instance, everyone was naturally curious.

So the very next day, a four-person top-student dorm team went to challenge Instance No. 082.

Before going, they even opened a thread declaring that they would write a spoiler-free sharing post.

As long as task details and clear-guide strategies were not involved, anyone was allowed to browse discussion posts related to advanced instances.

Many people who had already used up their weekly combat chamber attempts gathered under the thread out of curiosity, waiting for the original poster to return and share their impressions. Unexpectedly, one hour passed, then two hours passed, and the poster still did not appear.

People kept bumping the thread, asking whether the poster had run away or simply forgotten about it.

Not until evening, amid everyone’s anticipation, did the poster finally emerge and write faintly:

【I’m back. Our entire dorm cried for a whole day after finishing the instance. I only have one thought right now: I want to kill everyone.】

【???】

【That exaggerated? Is this an emotional story instance?】

The poster replied:

【Don’t even mention it. When we were halfway through the plot, I actually felt this advanced instance was easier than the others. Only later did I understand why its clear rate is so low. I’ve never cried this hard over an NPC before…】

【Our dorm unanimously decided that for the next month, we’re only running this instance until we meet the clear conditions.】

【Advice for anyone planning to play this instance: enjoy the early story segments properly. I suspect that was probably the “protagonist’s” happiest time. After that night, everything changed.】

【That’s all. Any more would be spoilers. Go experience it yourselves. And remember to bring tissues.】

No matter how later commenters tagged or replied, the poster never responded again, probably off crying once more.

This single thread completely hooked the forum’s curiosity.

Many people who had already reserved later combat chamber sessions changed their plans, canceled their original bookings, and chose Instance No. 082 instead.

Yu Cheng quietly lurked on the forum and read many posts.

Among them, quite a few challengers of Instance 082 were discovered before they even managed to sneak into the dormitory. Members of the enemy camp rushed out and beat them up in groups, leaving them utterly confused about where the emotional climax was supposed to be:

【Was the sad part just watching me get beaten half to death?】

Setting aside those who were completely out of their depth, many of the remaining players eventually thought of using arson. Thanks to recent education, Fangzhou’s students had grown increasingly crafty, each one practically a potential criminal in training.

As a result, many of those players witnessed Xiao Juan’s ending and returned to the forum in tears.

As more people played, one day Yu Cheng suddenly noticed that Instance No. 082 had gained a new codename.

——“Xiao Juan”.

Within the story, Xiao Juan, the primary “npc,” the protagonist’s follower, and the absolute core of the instance, had shed countless players’ tears through her death.

Like that original poster, many people made the same decision: they would save her no matter what.

They replayed the instance countless times, tried every possible method, and then realized with shock and despair that from the moment she witnessed Liao-ge’s death, Xiao Juan had already resolved to die.

Again and again she avenged herself, again and again rushing into the flames, dragging those who had abused her down into hell alongside her.

That was the true reason the system judged Instance 082’s completion rate to be so low.

And because of this instance, the students suddenly came to deeply understand that in an apocalypse, what one must fear is not only zombies, but also fellow humans who have already lost their humanity in the darkness.

When they realized this, disappointment was inevitable. Yet after that disappointment came renewed determination to protect others, inspired by people like Xiao Juan and Liao-ge.

The students even built a prayer thread for Xiao Juan on the forum. The thread quickly stacked up two or three hundred pages, an unusually tall post for a student forum with limited membership.

…

Fu Qing paid little attention to the upheaval on campus caused by the new instance.

To her, Xiao Juan’s death had happened more than four years ago. They had only traveled together for a little over three months during their escape, yet had been separated for four years. Still, when she stood before “Xiao Juan” again, Fu Qing realized that time had not faded her impression of the girl in the slightest.

She felt relieved, in fact. Xiao Juan had been such a bright and vivid girl, destined to leave a lasting impression.

Fu Qing had also considered whether importing this instance, allowing her friend to die again and again before students, might be inappropriate.

But Xiao Juan’s death had been her own choice. She had completed a magnificent act of revenge.

The fire had burned for three full days. After it finally died out, Fu Qing and the remaining members of the camp returned once more, risking their lives to clear wandering zombies nearby. Inside that small dormitory, they discovered at least seven corpses.

All were piled near the doorway, blocked by Xiao Juan alone.

Those who had relied on brute strength to commit evil while alive were nothing more than a handful of ash once burned clean.

At the time, Fu Qing had thought that if Xiao Juan knew this, that small girl would surely feel proud.

So perhaps more people remembering her, and being proud of her, was not a bad thing.

*

After resolving Yu Cheng’s psychological issues, Fu Qing returned once again to campus construction and advancing the main storyline.

Over the past month, the publicity team had also made significant progress.

Their video account had been launched with great momentum. So far, they had published five videos across major platforms. Because they still had daily classes and exams to prepare for, their update schedule was temporarily set at once per week.

The first video, though carefully prepared, received disappointing feedback. Its views barely exceeded one thousand, and the other four members felt somewhat discouraged.

Fortunately, the experienced Sun Wei stepped forward to reassure them:

“It’s fine. That’s just how social-media works. Traffic is basically metaphysics.”

“Before luck lands on us, all we can do is wait patiently. Our video quality is solid. We’ll slowly accumulate followers.”

Encouraged by Sun Wei, the team regained their spirits.

After reviewing their content again and confirming the quality was not the issue, they stopped obsessing over data and focused on making videos instead. Translated on Hololo novels. While maintaining a consistent upload schedule, they only occasionally logged in to reply to fans.

They released four more videos this way. Though none created a major splash, follower counts and engagement steadily increased. Then, after the fifth video was posted, a turning point finally arrived.

The day after its release, when Sun Wei logged in to manage the account, the page froze briefly.

She even thought she had logged into her personal main account by mistake.

Because such lag could only mean one thing:

The backend had been flooded with comments, interactions, and likes, to the point that loading itself took a long time.

Sun Wei stared at the red “999+” notification beside the account avatar in the upper corner and held her breath.

In just one night, the newest video reached 200,000 views, over ten thousand likes, and more than six hundred comments. The opening bullet comments were filled with “homepage notification,” indicating the video had been featured on the platform’s front-page recommendation.

Since their earlier videos shared the same theme and clearly formed a series, follower conversion happened rapidly. Over the next week, the video remained on the trending list, and their account gained nearly 100,000 followers, allowing everyone to truly experience the “traffic metaphysics” Sun Wei had mentioned.

Their earlier efforts, painstakingly producing videos despite poor view counts, had not been wasted. With strong quality, interesting content, and creative ideas, they became what fans called a hidden-gem creator.

As congratulatory messages arrived from the five team members, Fu Qing received feedback for the first time.

【Your influence on this world has deepened!】

【You have obtained 300 Teaching Points as a reward.】

【Please keep up the good work!】

By forming a publicity team, publishing public articles, encouraging students to spread awareness among their parents’ generation, and influencing peers through short-video platforms to pay attention to apocalypse-related topics, understand what “zombies” are, and what “stockpiling supplies” means…

All these accumulated efforts had finally produced initial results.

This confirmed Fu Qing’s guess. Just like “understanding of the world,” the system indeed possessed another hidden value measuring the influence she exerted on people.

As the account’s followers continued to grow, that influence would keep being credited to Fu Qing, effectively giving her a stable channel for earning Teaching Points.

And now that she finally had an account with steady exposure, it also meant she could begin using it to accomplish certain things.

Fu Qing called the five members of the publicity team into the office.

Over the past month, they had occasionally come to the principal’s office to report progress and were no longer as nervous as they had been the first time.

But when facing Fu Qing, they still felt restrained.

It had nothing to do with the principal’s attitude or strength. It was simply the pressure of her presence.

Among the five, only Su Huaijin, who had plenty of experience entering and leaving leadership offices, could speak with Fu Qing normally.

At this moment, however, even she widened her eyes in surprise.

“Principal, you mean… you want to join us?”

The moment they heard Fu Qing say this, panic set in.

It felt like a group of children fooling around when suddenly an adult joined in. None of them could imagine the principal messing around with them in a video.

“Not joining. Just one episode,” Fu Qing corrected.

“I want you to set aside one episode to include the content I specify. I’ll decide the filming format and location.”

The five of them did not fully understand, but if the principal was doing this, she must have her reasons.

“No problem,” Su Huaijin agreed readily. “We’re willing to cooperate. It’s just…”

Her expression suddenly turned awkward.

After hesitating, she finally asked, “Principal… will you be covering your face?”

Fu Qing: “……”

She had almost forgotten about that.

Before filming their first video, Fu Qing had reminded them to cover their faces and avoid revealing real geographic locations, so that no ill-intentioned people could track them down.

The five had followed the principal’s instructions without question and each ordered a mask online that very day.

When the packages arrived and they opened them together, the room fell into an indescribable silence.

A green-headed fish, a screaming chicken, Peppa Pig, an evil Pikachu, and a sunglasses-wearing doge meme lay neatly inside the boxes.

You do not fear one person being weird. You fear an entire group with not a single normal one among them.

Since then, every video had been filmed with those five headpieces.

Their faces were completely hidden, which brought a strange sense of security.

Though they had put on masks, it felt as if they had taken their masks off instead, becoming far more uninhibited.

But now, sitting in front of the principal and remembering those masks, the five suddenly felt like students dancing wildly in the classroom during break, only to turn around and see the homeroom teacher silently watching from the doorway.

They looked at one another. Finally, Freckles timidly pulled a wrinkled pink Peppa Pig mask from his pocket.

“Principal, maybe… you could wear this? This one seems a bit more normal.”

Relatively speaking, normal.

The other four immediately lowered their heads deeply, adopting postures of reflection.

Fu Qing: “……Isn’t there anything a little more dignified?”

She had told them not to show their faces, but she had never said they had to choose something this embarrassing.

The only boy in the group suddenly had an idea.

“I still have an Ultraman mask in my dorm. That one would definitely fit—mmph—”

He was cut off halfway when Su Huaijin clamped a hand over his mouth.

—What do you mean Ultraman isn’t dignified! In his heart, the principal shone even brighter than Tiga!

The boy shouted internally, unfortunately all of it suppressed behind Su Huaijin’s hand.

Fu Qing sighed, half amused and half helpless. “Forget it. I’ll handle the mask myself.”

She then turned to discussing the script for the new episode with them.

…

Over the next two days, the five filmed all the scenes that did not involve the principal.

On the third day, the mask Fu Qing had ordered arrived. They gathered at the agreed location and completed filming the remaining portions.

That very night, the boy responsible for editing stayed up all night and finished the final cut.

When the completed video was posted in the group chat, everyone else was in class. Sun Wei was the first to see it.

Since platforms now favored short-form videos and longer videos were harder to spread, Sun Wei naturally avoided such a basic mistake. Each of their videos was kept between five and ten minutes long. Using her lunch break, she watched the entire video in one sitting.

During the final minute, she repeatedly dragged the progress bar back, watching it six or seven times.

Then she sat there, motionless, for a long time.

Song Rushuang went to the restroom and returned ten minutes later, only to find Sun Wei still frozen in the exact same posture. Confused, she waved a hand in front of her.

“What’s wrong? Did you go stupid? Is the video that good?”

“No, what’s good isn’t the video, it’s…” Sun Wei reflexively refuted. After thinking for a moment, she decided not to spoil anything. She flopped back into her chair with a satisfied, workaholic grin. “Anyway, I have a feeling… once this video goes out, we’re going to gain followers again…”

*

“Why hasn’t it updated yet…”

Zhao Yun slid her fingers across her laptop’s touchpad and clicked refresh again.

The logo of a certain pink video website flashed briefly. After loading finished, the creator homepage still showed the same five videos, unchanged.

Disappointment immediately washed over her. She exited the page and went elsewhere to look for something to watch while eating.

As a sophomore college student, Zhao Yun was a heavy internet user.

Recently, she had become fond of a new creator whose ID was “Dormitory Battle Royale,” apparently a collaborative project by a group of college students. Their main series, 【College Campus Apocalypse Survival】, had already released five episodes. Set against a university campus backdrop, the videos simulated various scenarios preparing for an impending apocalypse, which felt especially relatable to Zhao Yun as a fellow student.

She had observed the bullet comments and comment section. Most of “Taotao’s” fans were also college students or recent graduates. The videos’ popularity came not only from polished production, but also from the endlessly creative commenters, who tossed out memes and jokes nonstop, making the viewing experience extremely enjoyable.

Zhao Yun had followed them since they only had a little over a hundred subscribers. She never missed an episode, watching them grow in a short time to over one hundred thousand followers. It gave her the feeling of growing alongside them.

Her only complaint was that their upload speed was painfully slow.

One episode a week. How was that enough?

After searching around and failing to find a suitable video, and seeing that her takeout malatang was about to go cold, Zhao Yun reluctantly reopened @Dormitory Battle Royale’s first episode.

As she watched, she clamped her chopsticks between her teeth and burst into loud goose-like laughter again.

Zhao Yun’s roommate: “……”

She leaned over from the next bed. “How many times have you watched this already? How are you still laughing like that?”

“But it’s genuinely hilarious!”

On screen, the faceless group had been seriously discussing how to escape their dorm and search the neighboring building for survival supplies.

The next second, a green-headed fish began crawling forward on the ground.

Since the video’s premise was “what if the apocalypse only arrives one year later,” everything shown was the group preparing in advance. From time to time, other Fangzhou students passed through the background as guest appearances, staring at them like they were idiots.

One student even calmly ignored the classmate spasming on the floor and simply stepped over him, maximizing the comedic effect.

Zhao Yun laughed so hard she clutched her stomach. “Who came up with using these five headpieces? Absolute genius!”

After a difficult struggle, the survival squad led by the green-headed fish finally secured their loot: half a bag of leftover chips, two cups of instant noodles, a pack of sausages, and an electric noodle pot hidden in a wardrobe corner to avoid inspection by the dorm supervisor auntie.

In post-production, each item was given game-style stat labels.

For example, the sausage:

Because of its high salt content, fullness +20 after consumption, hydration −5.

Contains carbohydrates, fats, proteins, and other nutrients. Can rapidly replenish energy. Considered a high-quality resource in apocalyptic conditions. One stick satisfies the minimum salt intake requirement for at least three days.

There was not only serious educational content, but also humorous descriptions:

【A smelly sock forgotten inside the noodle pot. Stimulation level: max. Can function as a biochemical weapon to destroy zombies’ sensitive sense of smell, allowing escape.】

Even though she had already watched twice, Zhao Yun burst into laughter again at this part. “Zombies can smell stinky socks too? Seriously?”

“Zombie settings are different in every story. Maybe the zombies in their world just have really sensitive noses,” her roommate commented from the side.

Zhao Yun had rarely watched apocalypse-themed works before and did not really understand these settings. Subconsciously, she formed an impression: zombies have keen senses of smell and can be misled using other methods.

But it remained only a vague impression. She quickly forgot about it and continued immersing herself in the video.

Because the series incorporated a game stat system and ongoing plotlines, Dormitory Battle Royale naturally created a sense of progression, like a serialized short drama.

Items obtained in one episode might continue appearing in many later episodes.

Foreshadowing planted in the first video might not be revealed until the fourth.

This gave viewers anticipation for future updates and further strengthened fan engagement.

New viewers were constantly encouraged by bullet comments to catch up on earlier episodes, causing view counts to rise steadily.

In the latest two episodes, viewers had even begun tracking the survival squad’s inventory in real time in the comment section, calculating how many days they could survive with current supplies, and enthusiastically predicting their next moves.

All of this was intentional detail added by Sun Wei and the others to increase interaction.

The higher the engagement, the more likely the video would receive recommendations and appear on the site’s homepage.

With Sun Wei, a veteran of social-media operations, the publicity team had indeed avoided many common pitfalls.

Su Huaijin also contributed creatively, gradually introducing elements of wish-fulfillment storytelling into the new episode. Though the proportion was small, many viewers loved that aspect and responded enthusiastically in the comments. Once future episodes featured the payoff of antagonists getting their comeuppance, view counts would clearly rise again.

At the same time, keeping playful chaos as the main tone ensured the videos remained light and easy to watch. Anyone could click into any episode and enjoy it immediately.

After binge-rewatching three episodes in a row, Zhao Yun began cleaning up her takeout trash, feeling a little sentimental.

Why did other people’s campus lives look so interesting?

Filming videos together, messing around with friends…

Meanwhile, her own life was just the monotonous triangle of classroom, dorm, and club activities, as dull as could be.

Sometimes she wondered, if things really happened like in Taotao’s videos, if zombies broke out and the apocalypse arrived a year later, would her stagnant life finally change?

But thinking about it, she felt she would probably be the first person to die.

She shook her head and stopped dwelling on it.

That afternoon, while studying in the library, Zhao Yun’s phone suddenly vibrated where it lay beside her, displaying a notification.

【The creator you specially follow @Dormitory Battle Royale has updated!】

A new video?

Delight surged through her instantly. She could not focus on studying anymore. Seeing the time was about right anyway, she went to the cafeteria, bought a meal, grabbed a milk tea, and returned to the dorm, ready to watch slowly while eating.

By the time she got back, the new episode had been online for nearly an hour, and the number of bullet comments had already grown considerable.

The moment Zhao Yun clicked into the video, a line floated across the opening screen:

【High-energy warning ahead!!! Attention, this is not a drill!!!】

Anticipation rose in her chest.

F5 dropped another hilarious new stunt?

The dense barrage of bullet comments that followed confirmed her guess.

【Leaving my mark before this blows up】

【Why does it feel like I can’t escape this video…】

【Ahhh F5 I missed you guys so much!!】

【Grandma, the creator you follow finally updated】

Layer upon layer of comments stacked across the screen, growing thicker and thicker. The real-time viewer count in the top-left corner kept rising without dropping, meaning many people who clicked in stayed to rewatch again and again, while new viewers kept joining before the old ones even left.

Even the video that made Episode Five hit the homepage had not seen this level of activity.

Zhao Yun’s anticipation shot to the maximum. She hurriedly split her chopsticks apart and began eating while watching.

The video opening continued directly from the previous episode’s cliffhanger. The production quality remained solid as ever. As Zhao Yun watched, she forgot about the earlier high-energy warning and started laughing again.

Until halfway through the video, when the plot suddenly shifted.

While the survival squad was out on a weekend supply run, they stumbled upon what appeared to be a long-abandoned “haunted house” in the suburbs and decided to designate it as a backup shelter.

They carefully filmed the interior: cobwebs everywhere, furniture and floors buried beneath thick layers of dust, clearly untouched for a long time.

Screaming Chicken seriously analyzed the feasibility of renovating it into a shelter.

But when the camera shifted, in a corner of the frame none of the five noticed, a half-clear footprint appeared in a hallway that should have been covered in dust.

From that moment on, everything felt wrong.

A few viewers nervously sent protective bullet comments, while most watched in silence.

In front of the screen, Zhao Yun unconsciously stopped eating. Even knowing it was fake, she still felt tension creeping in.

The atmosphere built slowly. The old house had no electricity, only flashlight beams swaying through darkness. Then the group heard a strange noise and pushed open a door.

Someone cursed, “Holy—,” and the phone serving as the camera began shaking violently, its holder clearly unable to keep filming steadily. After a moment of chaos, the shot froze briefly at an upward angle, capturing a decaying face.

The bullet comments went silent for one second, then exploded.

【WOC! That scared me!!】

【Why wasn’t there a warning?! I actually thought it was haunted!】

【Keep watching and you’ll see, omg it’s so cool】

【Big production!!! Is that a person acting as a zombie? So realistic!】

【I’m actually getting scared, someone tell me this is fake, right…】

【This episode has a totally different vibe, zombie fans eating good】

The incredibly lifelike zombie roared and staggered toward the squad in the frame. The phone shook wildly. The background audio contained only frantic footsteps and heavy breathing, pulling viewers’ hearts into the chase.

The atmosphere worked perfectly. People almost forgot what the video’s original theme was, focusing only on hoping the crisis would resolve.

The survival squad ran in circles through the haunted house, trying to shake off the suddenly appearing zombie. After much effort, they reached an open living room and each scrambled to hide.

This segment was filmed by Green-Headed Fish. She hid behind a sofa, the backrest blocking half the camera, her suppressed breathing audible at close range.

The full first-person perspective gave viewers an intense sense of immersion.

They watched as the zombie entered the living room and moved directly toward Peppa Pig’s hiding place.

“It can locate humans by smell…”

The thought suddenly surfaced in Zhao Yun’s mind.

On screen, Green-Headed Fish let out a short gasp.

Viewers saw Sunglasses Doge tiptoe behind the zombie, silently lifting a vase in his hands.

They still had not taken off their headpieces even now… Zhao Yun wanted to complain, but her attention was immediately captured by Doge’s movement.

He raised the vase high and smashed its heavy base down toward the zombie’s skull with full force.

A heavy “bang” echoed through the screen. Anyone could tell he had used all his strength, enough to shatter a human skull.

Countless viewers simultaneously swore out loud.

The zombie’s skull visibly caved in. From the side, a clear dent appeared in its head.

A human would already be dead.

“What?!” Zhao Yun widened her eyes, dragging the progress bar back and pausing to examine the frame carefully.

No mistake. The zombie’s head had truly been dented inward.

Was that not a human inside? A zombie moving this naturally… wasn’t an actor?

Or had they used special effects?

But this was just a short video, not a movie. That seemed excessive…

Driven by curiosity and determined to find flaws in the filming, Zhao Yun began watching even more closely.

The vase shattered. Sunglasses Doge staggered back two steps, chest heaving, clearly exhausted. Then suddenly his breathing stopped.

The zombie, its skull dented, merely swayed slightly… and stood upright again.

It was not dead.

Without hesitation, Sunglasses Doge turned and ran. The flashlight beam in his hand shook wildly. Drawn by the light, the zombie reached out, allowing Doge to escape.

The phone fell into the zombie’s hands. As its fingers fumbled with it, the camera function somehow activated.

What followed was a thrilling yet strangely comedic chase scene.

Thrilling because the old house was neither small nor large, and the squad grew increasingly exhausted as the distance between them and the zombie fluctuated, keeping viewers on edge.

Comedic because the entire chase was now shown from the zombie’s perspective.

As a student production, Dormitory Battle Royale was undeniably rough around the edges. Yet the presence of this unbelievably realistic zombie elevated its quality instantly, rivaling even some low-budget films with poor CGI in certain aspects.

In the bullet comments, ordinary viewers watched nervously while zombie-film fans were ecstatic, some already wanting to rewind and analyze how the zombie had been made.

Footsteps, breathing, roars. The layered sound effects blended without becoming chaotic. The editor displayed the skill he had gained from making movie mashups, controlling pacing with remarkable precision.

As the zombie reached out, fingertips nearly touching Green-Headed Fish’s back, viewer tension peaked at its absolute height—

“BOOM!!”

All sound effects cut out instantly.

Wind roared past the zombie’s side. From the first-person view, the image blurred. The zombie holding the phone staggered backward, seemingly losing the ability to stand, sliding against the hallway wall.

The camera angle drooped, like a weakening head falling forward. The zombie struggled; the camera tilted upward and captured a face.

The figure wore a gas mask covering the lower half of their face. Only sharp, indifferent eyes were visible.

Just one cold glance made viewers feel as if their hearts were being gripped, their breathing tightening.

A blade flashed.

The video cut off instantly.

The screen went black, but background audio continued. The zombie’s urgent screeches weakened, faded, and finally disappeared, signaling the perfect resolution of the crisis.

For a long while, viewers did not recover.

【Holy… was that seriously not a movie shot just now?】

【AHHH SO COOL!!!】

【Turns out coolness really is a feeling. Just those eyes made my legs weak】

【I replayed those two seconds so many times already. I need all contact info for this sixth person immediately】

【Didn’t expect a mask that hits my exact preferences to appear in Taotao’s videos. It suddenly went from a kids’ show to a Hollywood blockbuster】

【One second it’s goofy fun, next second @#￥&%… sister I’m sold!】

【See you all back at the beginning!】

₊˚.🎧📓✩