Hope is Forever Beautiful

Killing zombies was physically demanding. For any average person, it required not only stamina but also skill—it wasn't as simple as slashing, stabbing, or swinging randomly to resolve the matter.

But for Lam Pham, it was a different story.

With Frostmourne, a sword that once symbolized evil and darkness, now shining more brilliantly than ever in the hands of Lam Pham—an agent of justice.

A zombie head soared into the air, spinning before thudding to the ground.

Slash!

Slash!

One swing after another, zombies roared with aggression. Their strength and speed were formidable. For some reason, Lam Pham felt like they were faster than before.

But he didn't dwell on it. Maybe they just looked thinner and had longer legs. Or maybe their strength came from being bulkier.

Once there was the God of Elevators, who outshone others in the building.

Now, there was the Sword God, slashing with Frostmourne against the oncoming horde.

The narrow stairwell limited the power of Frostmourne, but Lam Pham still had his legs. His kicks were devastating. A single strike could send a zombie flying, collapsing onto others and forming a pile of corpses like a miniature mountain.

"You lot, attacking me with mouths full of viruses—don't blame me for self-defense. I have no legal responsibility for this," he muttered.

He wasn't well-versed in the law, except in areas concerning self-defense. That, he had studied thoroughly.

Now, his only recourse was to use his sword and stab zombie heads.

Whoosh!

The blade pierced through one skull. Pulling it out, he lunged at another target.

These zombies, driven mad by the scent of flesh, roared and scrambled forward—even crawling over corpses—to bite him. Soon, the stairwell was completely blocked.

It looked like someone had stuffed a toilet with too much toilet paper—everything jammed together in a soggy, messy clog. This was essentially the same situation.

[Killed zombie]

[+1 Point]

...

He had cleared three floors from the rooftop entrance, but it was impossible to go any further.

Looking at the blood-black walls and floors—filthy. Utterly filthy.

If the building's management saw this, they'd be furious. A perfectly fine hallway, ruined. If other residents saw it, they'd complain for sure.

"Sigh…"

Dragging Frostmourne behind him, Lam Pham surveyed the scene and shook his head. The way forward was blocked. All he could hear were the roars from behind the wall of corpses. He turned and headed back upstairs.

Returning to the rooftop, he saw the ashy remains of fireworks that had been set off earlier.

He thought of the man who had jumped.

He must've been in immense pain.

Or maybe… it was his way of seeking release.

Walking to the edge of the rooftop, Lam Pham looked down. A swarm of zombies surrounded the stairwell entrance, trying to climb up.

So many zombies.

Too many.

Should he fight them?

No. It was too much.

He didn't want to soil someone else's apartment complex. That would be highly unethical.

So he hid in a secluded spot, keeping completely silent.

Silence = behave + don't run your mouth.

He understood. Quietly waiting was the key to getting zombies to leave.

That uncle had said it well: if there's no sound, the zombies will leave on their own.

To Lam Pham, these zombies were just like nosy onlookers. Whenever something happened, they'd drop whatever they were doing and crowd around, not even knowing what was going on. But in the presence of others, they'd pretend to know, gossip about it, and even retell the story to newcomers.

And once the excitement ended, they'd all disperse.

Now, everything was quiet again.

The zombies were just like that.

He waited for a long time. No noise below. Peeking out—really, only a few stragglers left.

Going back down the stairs was a no-go. Too dangerous, and it would set a bad example for children. Even adults shouldn't learn from that. Falling down would mean a smashed head and brains splattered everywhere.

So, he left the rooftop by elevator and headed to the ground floor.

Even though there had been a huge zombie crowd earlier, clearly they weren't that smart. They didn't know how to split into two paths—one to the elevator, the other up the stairs. If they had, it might've caused conflict.

"Why do I have to climb stairs while you take the elevator?"

And if that happened, surely the elevator would break from being overloaded.

Ding!

The elevator doors opened.

A zombie stood right outside, swaying back and forth, dazed. Lam Pham frowned at this confusing behavior. Among people, one could still be straightforward and honest. Why couldn't zombies do the same?

What's the point of pretending to be dumb?

Everyone already knew what zombies really looked like.

There was no fooling him.

Roar!

The sound of the doors opening startled the zombie, who lunged forward.

Slash! Slash!

Easily dispatched. Stepping over the corpse, Lam Pham pushed open the emergency exit and left the building.

Sunshine Residence.

"Xiao Qing, when do you think this apocalypse will finally end?"

Lam Pham sipped his Coke, looking at the rotting corpse nearby. Though Xiao Qing was now dead, that didn't stop him from having a conversation with her.

"I think it'll be over soon. As long as we work hard, we can bring back the once-bustling Huang City."

"Ah, right. You're a bit messy here—I'll help clean up. No need to pay me. We're friends. If you really feel bad about it, let me take something from your place as compensation."

"You're not saying anything? Great. It's settled then."

"Let's go home. Cook dinner. Eat."

One spoke, the other listened.

It was a strangely heartwarming, almost wholesome moment—overflowing with a rare sense of humanity in this cruel world.

He scanned a QR code, paid, and went home.

The two elderly men were waiting by the gate. While Lam Pham was away, they had used wooden boards to reinforce the front gate.

Anyone standing outside could only see the top of their heads. If they wanted to peek inside, they'd have to stand on tiptoe.

Of course, the barricade was only 1.7 meters high—enough to block 90% of people. The remaining 10% were either tall or resourceful.

"Good day, gentlemen," Lam Pham greeted them with a smile.

Old Wang laughed, "Check out this barricade. How's it look? Old Chu and I spent half a day on it. We could've done even better if we had proper tools."

Lam Pham nodded, "Looks great. You two have skillful hands. If I tried, it wouldn't turn out nearly as good."

Always be modest.

Of course, he didn't actually know if he could do better—he hadn't tried.

So his humility might also be honesty.

The two old men liked Lam Pham more and more. There was just something special about him.

Good personality, kind nature, down-to-earth, helpful—plus, he still had a childlike innocence, carrying that big sword on his back like a kid with a toy.

"I'll go cook lunch now," Lam Pham said. It was noon already, time to eat.

"Hey, why cook? Just eat with us!" said Old Chu.

Don't let his scholarly looks fool you—he knew how to treat people right. Plus, Old Wang had taught him a lot over time.

But Lam Pham politely declined, "No thanks. I prefer the smell of home cooking."

With that, he ran off.

"Gentlemen, don't stay out too long."

Such thoughtfulness.

"This kid…" the two old men chuckled.

Back at home.

Lam Pham washed rice, started the rice cooker, took out some ingredients from the fridge. Clang clang—the sound of a cleaver against a wooden cutting board echoed in the kitchen.

He returned to his computer.

The internet was still up.

He didn't know why. That was something for experts to explain.

He refreshed the LOL forums.

No new posts. No new replies.

Everything had seemingly frozen since that day.

He browsed old posts.

[Begging for 100,000 to save my mom's life. Just 100k—I'll repay it all, even if I have to work like a slave.]

It was a desperate plea. His mother was sick and needed emergency surgery. Everything that could be sold had been sold. Everything that could be borrowed had been borrowed...

So many comments. Some donated 100, others 20, some even just 5.

Lam Pham also donated 100.

He was broke, too. But he still offered help.

Some accused it of being a scam.

But those commenters were drowned in angry replies.

The top-rated comment was:

"Even if you swore on your mom's life just to scam us, I'd still donate. As long as your mom is okay, it's worth it."

Lam Pham sat there quietly, smiling.

See? Back then, there were still so many kind people.

Sure, there were creeps, perverts, and people with Gatling spray bottles—but deep down, weren't we all just good kids?

He returned to the homepage and made a new post:

[Hey guys... are you still out there?]

He refreshed the page.

0 views.

He opened a movie site and hit play.

Lam Pham sat in the living room, quietly watching.

A soft voice came from the film:

"Hope is beautiful. Perhaps it is the ultimate good in this world. And good things never truly fade."