Beg Me for Protection? Now You Know Fear?

Harold Fang thought he was being clever.

He'd murdered several residents of Building 25, thinking it would force Ethan Cross out of hiding.

In a Hollywood movie, the self-sacrificing hero would've already rushed out to confront the villain, tears in their eyes, trying to "talk things out."

But Ethan? He wasn't that kind of man.

He didn't feel guilt. If anything, he was thrilled.

This was exactly what he wanted—more bodies, more fear, more chaos.

The more people Harold killed, the more terrified the neighbors became.

And once they were scared enough, they'd come crawling to him for protection.

Sure enough, two days later, the begging began.

The bloodstained message Harold left behind had done its job. Everyone in the building now believed Ethan was their only hope.

The group chat exploded with messages. Private DMs, missed calls, even voice messages.

Ethan casually opened the chat and scrolled.

"Ethan, this is your fault! You provoked them—you deal with it!"

"Yeah, you brought this on yourself. Why should we suffer for your actions?"

"They said they'll keep killing until you show up. If you've got any decency left, you'll go face them!"

"You're really okay watching all of us die because of you?"

Ethan grinned at the screen.

He wasn't mad. If anything, he found their desperation entertaining.

He knew these people like the back of his hand—selfish, spineless cowards.

He typed back a few lines.

"They came to kill me. I killed them. And somehow I'm the bad guy now?"

"You can't defend yourselves and you blame me?"

"You said it yourselves—those guys are dangerous. Why the hell would I go outside? My house is safe. 😏"

The smirking emoji at the end was the final nail in the coffin.

The neighbors lost it.

"Ethan... you're safe in there. What about us?!"

"You're leaving us out to die!"

"You brought this hell to our doorstep. You have no soul!"

Ethan burst out laughing.

Their shamelessness was astonishing—but predictable.

He sneered as he typed:

"What happens to you has nothing to do with me."

"Don't lecture me on morality. Where were your morals when you joined the mob that tried to raid my place?"

"If I weren't generous, I'd have blasted every one of you that day."

"Now you want to talk about right and wrong? Please."

His final message carried a cold, deadly tone:

"Do you really think I won't kill you?"

That shut them up.

Suddenly, everyone remembered who they were talking to.

Tony Chen?

That guy got frozen to death and smashed to pieces—by Ethan.

Nobody dared reply after that.

Ethan closed the chat and messaged Uncle Ray.

"Time for your performance."

Uncle Ray responded instantly: "Leave it to me."

In the group chat, the residents were stunned into silence.

Their guilt trip had failed. Ethan wasn't budging.

And now they were right back where they started—no protection, no plan, no hope.

Building 25 had already lost most of its men.

Only Ethan and Uncle Ray had any real combat ability left.

"We thought killing Tony Chen would be the end of it. But the Terra Gang's even worse…"

Tony had killed for control—for rations.

Harold and his crew? They were butchers, plain and simple. Revenge-driven psychos.

"Are we really just going to die here?"

"Damn it… How did the world turn into this?"

"The snowstorm isn't ending anytime soon. Maybe this is how we die—buried in the cold."

Despair spread like frostbite.

That's when someone unexpected spoke up.

Uncle Ray.

The quiet, dependable ex-soldier who usually kept to himself suddenly showed up in the chat.

"Everyone calm down. The Terra Gang only has around twenty guys. If we stand together, we can take them down."

His words sparked hope.

People who had already given up started messaging back.

"Uncle Ray! Thank God you're alive!"

"You've been quiet lately—we thought you were gone!"

"You're our last hope!"

"Tell us what to do—we'll follow your lead!"

Uncle Ray's eye twitched.

"Follow my lead? You mean I fight while you watch?"

He was speechless.

Still, he played the part.

"I can't do this alone."

"I haven't eaten in days. My strength's gone. My supplies are running out."

"I imagine most of you are in the same boat."

Several people went silent.

Some had been eating better than others—barbecue, even.

Once your brain gets numb, that stuff still tastes okay.

"Uncle Ray, what should we do? Everyone's short on food. We'd help if we could…"

Suddenly the tune changed.

More sweet talk.

"Please, give us a plan. We trust you."

Uncle Ray sighed.

"The only real option? Ethan."

"He has weapons. He's well-fed. He's strong. We need him to lead."

That hit like a slap.

The same Ethan they just insulted?

The guy they cursed minutes ago?

"But… he just told us to rot."

"He won't leave that fortress. No way he's coming out for us."

"Still… if he did lead us, we'd stand a chance."

They hated him. But they couldn't deny the truth.

Half a building had died by his hands.

Tony Chen? Turned into frozen mush.

No one else had power like Ethan.

Uncle Ray wrapped it up.

"I'm still on speaking terms with him. Let me talk to him. Maybe I can convince him to help."

The chat blew up.

"Uncle Ray, it's all on you now!"