Chapter 21: Magical Armory

Chapter 21: Chapter 21: Magical Armory

After affixing the "Weapon Room" sign—diligently written on cardboard and carefully taped up—to the selected security door, Xu Mo breathed a sigh of relief.

’I really need to find some better weapons or armor,’ he thought. ’Things have been quiet for the past few days, but if zombies show up again, I can’t rely on just a single Bone-Cutting Knife, can I?’

’And after using the Bone-Cutting Knife on zombies, am I supposed to use it to chop my vegetables?’ Xu Mo frowned at the thought, choosing to reject the idea entirely.

The security door before him was ordinary, but Xu Mo figured some private armories might use a sign like this. He decided to try his luck.

He had even emptied his backpack in advance, fantasizing that behind the door lay racks of standard-issue firearms or an armory displaying gleaming Cold Weapons.

For the next forty-eight hours, this anticipation became extra motivation for his training. While practicing his Posture Stance, Xu Mo imagined himself wielding a sharp blade, striking as fast as the wind. Even his practice with the basic Bone-Cutting Knife techniques felt like a warm-up for the new weapon he was about to acquire.

The countdown finally reached zero.

Xu Mo took a deep breath, standing before the security door with its "Weapon Room" sign. His eyes glinted with resolve.

"Open!"

A faint light shimmered, and the scene behind the door shifted rapidly.

The cold, metallic glint he had envisioned never appeared. Instead, the space was bathed in a suggestive, pinkish-purple light, and a strange odor—a mix of cheap fragrance and rubber—filled the air.

The look of anticipation on Xu Mo’s face froze instantly, morphing into bewilderment, and finally settling into a feeling of utter absurdity.

What greeted his eyes was no armory.

This was, quite clearly, a sizable adult toy warehouse!

As far as the eye could see, rows of shelves were neatly stacked with silicone products of jaw-dropping shapes, sizes, and colors. Their designs were so bold and their purposes so self-evident that even Xu Mo, a man of the modern world, felt himself blushing. The walls were adorned with what could generously be called "attire"—scant pieces of leather and lace—accompanied by chains and whips. He supposed those last items could *technically* be considered weapons.

’But the thought of whipping zombies with *this* stuff?’

BLECH~

Xu Mo didn’t dare let the thought linger.

Looking elsewhere, he saw various models of electric toys, their boxes plastered with shockingly graphic images.

"What... What kind of ’Weapon Room’ is this?!" Xu Mo nearly choked, feeling as if the damned rules had played a cruel joke on him. Refusing to give up, he approached the shelves, picked up a few boxes for a closer look, and discovered that all the electric toys were completely useless ornaments—none of them came with batteries.

Half-laughing, half-crying, Xu Mo tossed the items back onto the shelf, his mind racing with complaints. ’Does the system really think these things can be used as "weapons"? Physically? Or as some kind of psychological attack?’

Frustrated, Xu Mo darted through the warehouse, hoping to find something "normal." Perhaps some security batons tucked away in a corner? Or a box cutter used for packaging? But he was quickly disappointed. The warehouse was "highly" specialized; everything in sight was a "professional prop" for *that* industry, and nothing more.

More than forty seconds had already passed.

Utterly deflated, Xu Mo prepared to leave empty-handed. The trip had been a complete waste, a squandered opportunity. He shook his head in frustration and turned back toward the glowing doorway.

As he passed a corner in the deepest part of the warehouse, his foot accidentally kicked a half-open cardboard box. He glanced down instinctively. The contents didn’t look like silicone; they were small plastic bottles.

He stopped and bent down to grab a bottle. There were no explicit images on the label, just some foreign text and a prominent drug name—"Silde...nafil."

Xu Mo froze for a second before he realized what it was. The corner of his mouth twitched violently.

’The little blue pill... Well, I guess from a certain point of view, this could be considered a... "weapon"?’ The absurdity of it all peaked. In certain specific situations, couldn’t this stuff indeed be called a "powerful tool"?

Xu Mo looked at the half-full box, which contained several dozen bottles. He was about to ignore it when a thought struck him—in the apocalypse, with the monetary system collapsed, bartering was king. To some people, this stuff could be a priceless treasure, possessing enormous "trade value."

Just because he had no use for it now didn’t mean he wouldn’t meet someone who did in the future.

"I can’t go back completely empty-handed," Xu Mo sighed. Adopting the mindset of "a good scavenger never leaves empty-handed"—no, wait, "maximizing resource utilization"—he lifted the entire half-full box of "Sildenafil." It was surprisingly heavy.

In the final few seconds, Xu Mo stepped through the glowing doorway, carrying his unexpected "spoils."

Back in the apocalyptic hallway, Xu Mo stared at the box at his feet with mixed feelings. His anticipated divine armaments had turned into *this*, leaving him with the powerless feeling of punching a wad of cotton.

He carried the box of pills back to his apartment and stuffed it into a far corner.

"It seems the definition of ’weapon’ is much broader than I imagined," Xu Mo said with a self-deprecating laugh. He picked up his plain, unadorned Bone-Cutting Knife, walked to the center of the room, and resumed practicing his swings.

The cold steel sliced through the air with a steady WHOOSH.

This failed expedition also taught Xu Mo that the system’s "interpretation" had a bizarre sense of humor. Or rather, it operated based on some broader "conceptual" mapping that he didn’t fully grasp yet.

After his training, night had fallen. Xu Mo didn’t rest. Instead, in the dim light, he once again took out his sign-making materials. This time, he selected a larger piece of cardboard.

"Warehouse..." he muttered, his eyes glinting thoughtfully. ’If a place can be called a warehouse, it must contain a large quantity of something. Whether it’s food, tools, or other supplies, it would mean a huge score for me.’ ℯℯ𝑙.

He carefully wrote one large word on the cardboard—Warehouse. The handwriting was far from beautiful, but it was clear and conspicuous.

Holding his new sign, he walked up to the security door that had previously borne the "Weapon Room" label. He looked at the sign, still stuck to the door, hesitated for a moment, then carefully peeled it off without damaging it.

’The destination is random. Who knows where a door labeled "Weapon Room" will lead next time?’ he thought. ’That last one was probably just a fluke.’

After stowing the "Weapon Room" sign, Xu Mo found the most conspicuous spot on the smooth door panel and squarely affixed his brand-new "Warehouse" sign.

Against the dark security door, the single, striking sign clearly broadcasted Xu Mo’s intent.

After finishing, he took two steps back to admire the now "clearly targeted" security door, a smile touching his lips. It was a strange feeling, like he was playing a highly open-ended sandbox game and discovering its rules on his own terms.

’I’m not short on medicine or food right now, so there’s no harm in experimenting a bit,’ Xu Mo thought, feeling relaxed. Failure would only mean wasting one opportunity, and he could afford that. But success could open a door to a whole new world of resources.

He had no idea what he would see the next time he opened the door. A massive space piled high with crates? A logistics hub lined with shelves? The unknown itself held a certain allure. And Xu Mo, possessing the capital for trial and error, was relishing the process.