"Open up! Open the damn door!"
"It's Tony Chen. I'm taking this unit. Open up, or I'll blow your heads off!"
Inside the apartment, the young couple huddled together in fear.
"What do we do? They're here to take our place. We'll probably lose the last of our food too…"
The wife looked at her husband in despair.
He was just a skinny office clerk with glasses. He hugged her tightly and tried to soothe her.
"It's okay… don't be scared. If they want the place, we'll just give it to them."
"Here—quick—hide whatever food we have left on you."
They stuffed what few scraps they had into their coats and nervously opened the door.
Outside stood Tony and his goons, faces twisted with hostility.
The man swallowed hard and bowed deeply.
"Mr. Chen… this apartment's yours now. We'll leave right away."
He grabbed his wife and turned to go.
They didn't get far.
Thud!
One of Tony's thugs let out a cold laugh, swung a metal pipe, and knocked the man out with a single blow.
As he collapsed, wide-eyed, there was only disbelief left in his fading consciousness.
Why? We gave them the place… why still hit me?
The woman screamed and tried to flee.
"Ahhh!!"
Another metal pipe found the back of her head.
Neither of them would be speaking again.
Dr. Chloe stood in the corner, hands clamped over her mouth, paralyzed.
She was numb with horror.
It was the first time she had seen someone beaten to death right in front of her. No amount of hospital experience could prepare her for this.
Tony Chen glanced her way and chuckled darkly.
"Too cold out here. They were gonna die sooner or later anyway. You'd better get used to it, Doc."
After killing so many, he had lost all respect for human life.
And truth be told, ever since Ethan put a bounty on his head—and after nearly being killed yesterday—Tony had been scared.
He wouldn't admit it, but fear was clawing at him.
So he chose to rule with fear.
By crushing anyone who dared resist, he could scare the others into submission.
Dr. Chloe bit her lip, suppressing the nausea.
Tony strode into the apartment and ordered his men to clean up the mess.
Over the next few days, Ethan frequently heard metallic clanging from next door.
He knew what it was.
Tony's people were scraping the walls, searching for a weakness.
They rotated in shifts, monitoring his front door and back window.
Tony figured Ethan had to step out eventually—to dump trash, or collect snow for water.
All he needed was one moment to kill Ethan, and everything would be his.
But what Tony didn't know was that Ethan had a massive extradimensional storage space.
He didn't need to fetch water. And as for taking out the trash?
Not worth the risk.
Let it pile up. He wasn't going anywhere.
He spent his days gaming or watching pre-downloaded shows.
Meanwhile, the neighborhood group chat remained a never-ending fountain of cries, pleas, and… rage.
"Ethan, you heartless bastard!"
"You could've helped us! We could've lived longer! Why are you so selfish?!"
"You'll die alone, you piece of shit!"
"Don't you have a soul? You'll regret this for the rest of your life!"
In response, Ethan did the only reasonable thing—
He went live.
He set up his camera and livestreamed himself… eating dinner.
"Hello, dear neighbors," he grinned. "Today, I'm making braised pork belly!"
He dropped a two-pound slab of pork onto the chopping board.
The chat exploded.
"Why the hell are you using that much pork for one dish?!"
"If you're gonna waste it, give it to me! Gimme that meat, you monster!"
"Ethan, I haven't had meat in a week! Please! Just one bite! One strip of pork skin!"
"Let me drink the grease you throw away! I'll lick your garbage!"
They were beyond starving—and pork belly was pure temptation.
Ethan chopped, seared, simmered—like a pro.
Even through the screen, they could almost smell the fragrant braised sauce.
Then… he frowned.
He picked up a chunk, chewed once, and immediately spat it out.
"Too much soy sauce. Ugh. Ruined it."
"The sugar syrup didn't caramelize either… it's all bitter. Damn it. The whole pot's a waste."
He grimaced.
No dog at home either. Not even a stray to feed it to.
So he dumped the entire pot into the trash can.
The group chat detonated.
"NOOOOO!"
"Why?! I'm your trash can, Ethan! I'll eat it all, please!"
"Why would you throw it away?! Why?! WHY?!"
"I'll come collect your trash RIGHT NOW—just don't toss it!"
"Please, Master, do you need a loyal dog to help you clean your leftovers?!"
Ethan's wastefulness drove them mad.
They had no gas. No hot meals. No meat. Even a bowl of soup was a luxury now.
And here he was… tossing away two pounds of premium pork.
"Guess I'll eat something pre-made instead."
He moved the camera.
On a spotless dining table sat a dozen freshly-prepared gourmet dishes.
Warm golden lighting bathed the spread, making it look even more mouthwatering.
Ethan pointed out each one like a smug food vlogger.
"Tonight's menu: butterflied shrimp, braised sea cucumber, imperial tofu, sweet-and-sour yellow croaker, stewed pork intestine, shredded fish, sweet-and-sour pork, caviar soup, and caramelized yam."
"Alright folks—time to dig in!"
He picked up his chopsticks and started to feast.
The group chat went insane.
"Ethan! Just one bite! I'll bow to you!"
"Please, let my child have a piece of fish skin! Just one sliver!"
"You're my dad! I'm your son! Just let me drink some broth!"
The begging didn't stop. Some even called him repeatedly.
Ethan ignored them all.
He ate happily, relishing every bite.
And watching their insane, furious, starving reactions—
It made the meal taste even better.