Apocalypse King: Recruiting S-Tier Beauties With My Ruler System
Chapter 162: The Lure Below

Chapter 162: The Lure Below

March 21st, 8:31 AM — Longwan Mall, South Basement Stairwell

John Wang POV

——

The steel door creaked open.

Damp air seeped up from below, thick with dust and mildew. It clung to the inside of my nose like a wet cloth. The concrete stairs spiralled downward into near-black, and the emergency light over the threshold blinked in a slow, dying rhythm—like a heartbeat that was forgetting how to beat.

Chen Xun lit a flare.

Red washed the stairwell. Everyone’s shadows stretched long and jagged against the walls, flickering with every step.

I handed out gear one at a time—torches, flashbangs, sighting modules. I kept my voice low as I clipped each item into place.

"Don’t rely on electronics too much. These creatures might adapt again."

Zhou Xue blinked at the laser module on her bow. "John, how the hell did you—?"

"I’ll explain later."

And I meant it. I would have to earn everyone’s trust normally, the way they earned mine. I’d show them everything soon. Just not while a Ghoul was luring us into a fucking basement filled with crawlers.

We moved slowly, each step measured. The stairwell echoed with every shift of weight, every click of boot heel on metal.

Mu Qinglan had taken point. I followed just behind her. Roulan and Yifei watched our rear. Tang Wei walked beside me now, her hand never leaving her weapon.

"Sound’s weird in here," she muttered.

"It’s funnelling," I said. "Architecture forces everything upward. Makes it feel like something’s always behind us."

"Is there?"

"Probably."

This information wasn’t my knowledge, but a warning from the system.

Well, nobody would care about that...

The stairwell ended at a double steel door, slightly ajar and rusted.

Mu Qinglan pushed it open with the flat of her blade.

The hinges groaned like something dying slowly.

A wave of stale, fetid air rolled over us, hotter than the upper level, like it sealed in the rot and allowed it to cook. The red flare light flickered across a concrete loading dock: old generator housing, broken lockers, stacked pallets in the far corners. The emergency lights here had long since gone out.

Just shadows.

And stains.

A wide drag mark crossed the centre of the floor, wet and glistening, trailing off toward a collapsed access tunnel on the far end.

"It pulled something down here," Tang Wei said.

"No," I murmured. "It dragged itself back."

I stepped ahead, torch clipped to my hip, casting a white cone over the ground. Footsteps crunched over shell casings, cracked tile, and brittle bones. Human-sized. Nothing fresh.

But ahead, just past a stack of crates, was something else.

"Movement," Yifei whispered.

We froze.

Chen Xun lifted his bow. The string trembled.

But there was nothing in sight.

Just... a rhythmic wet sound. Click. Drag. Click. Drag.

Mu Qinglan stiffened beside me, eyes narrowing. "That’s it."

"No," I said, holding up a hand.

Everyone paused. Weapons half-raised. Breaths held.

I stepped toward the far wall where the sound echoed louder. Traced the source with the cone of my torchlight. A tangle of exposed ductwork ran just overhead, cracked open in places, insulation spilling out like dead roots.

The noise came again.

Click. Drag. Click—whirr—drag.

Then silence.

Then a slow mechanical gasp, like something sucking air with a crushed throat.

Tang Wei frowned. "Ventilation?"

I crouched beside the wall panel and tapped the rusted grill.

"Not the Ghoul," I said. "The sub-basement’s filtration system. Might be trying to cycle on."

"Why now?" Liang Mei asked softly.

I stood and turned back to the others. "Power fluctuations, or maybe it’s another trap?"

Whatever it was, it meant the Ghoul hadn’t made its move yet.

But we weren’t alone down here.

Not with the stains on the walls, the drag trails in the dust.

And the scent.

The kind of rot you didn’t see unless it was fresh.

I tapped my comm. "Yifei, Roulan—sweep the far storage doors. No separation beyond three meters. If it moves, attack it with everything you have."

The two looked at each other before nodding.

It had lured us down.

Now we were hunting it back.

The air down here didn’t move right.

Too still. Too heavy.

Even after confirming the filtration system’s sputtering coughs, every corner felt loaded. Every shadow stretched too far.

We spread out slowly in a tight formation, avoiding noise.

Tang Wei covered the centre with her torch and shotgun raised. Chen Xun and Liang Mei moved beside Zhou Xue, sticking to the left flank near an old parts cage. The room was wide, maybe thirty meters across—but packed with collapsed lockers, forklift pallets, and black stains that hadn’t dried right.

Yifei and Roulan moved toward the far double doors, checking each nook with blade and barrel.

I walked behind Qinglan.

Every few steps, I stopped to mark the trail behind us. Not just for us. But so I could see later, if anything doubled back.

Qinglan raised a fist.

We froze.

Ahead of her was a thick maintenance door, cracked open an inch. Yellow paint peeled down the centre. A dark smear arced across the lower edge like something had been dragged in sideways.

"Crawler?" she asked.

"Maybe," I murmured.

I pulled a flashbang from my belt, adjusted the fuse with a quick twist, and nodded at Qinglan.

[Deploy: Flashbang – High Grade (Silent Fuse)][Trajectory: Low, Bounce – Arc Entry]

I lobbed it just under the crack.

The burst went off in a searing pulse of white light—a low pop, no smoke. Just raw disorientation.

From inside, the first shriek came.

Then a second.

Then, skittering... dozens of limbs scratching against concrete.

A swarm poured out like something kicked them into motion. Four, five, seven Crawlers scuttled into view, flailing blindly.

The first Crawler slammed into the door, scraping wildly at the frame, its limbs flailing in blind fury. Another tumbled over it, skidding along the concrete, hissing through a jaw that snapped at the air.

Then five more.

They didn’t hold formation. They didn’t circle. They poured out like rats from fire—disoriented, crashing into shelves, each other, anything they could reach.

Tang Wei fired once a slug through the closest one’s neck.

Roulan’s Type-9k lit up, cutting down the second and third before they fully righted themselves.

Arrows struck from both sides—Chen Xun, Zhou Xue, Liang Mei—clean shots, fast, fast, fast. None of the Crawlers were ready.

I stepped forward as the last one tried to leap.

Crushing Moon’s chamber fired point-blank.

BOOM.

Headless.

Blood sprayed backwards against the wall as its body folded, twitching twice before going still.

Silence returned.

Nothing followed.

The door swayed from the gunfire, revealing an empty room.

And deeper inside...

The real threat waited.

The door opened with a metal groan, swinging inward to reveal a wide storage hall, at least twenty meters across and with a low ceiling. The walls were lined with rusted supply cages and overturned shelving. Crates, drums, and torn black bags were strewn across the floor like someone had ransacked the place with both hands.

The stench hit hard. Foul. Metallic. Thick with heat.

And the Crawlers were waiting.

Not neatly.

Not tactically.

Just crouched in clusters along the walls and under shelves—some perched on broken crates, others halfway up the ventilation cages, clinging to torn insulation like parasites. Pale limbs. Gaping mouths.

They hissed the moment we stepped in.

No stealth now.

No subtlety.

Only slaughter.

"Flash!" I shouted.

Two white canisters arced across the room—mine and Tang Wei’s. The second they hit, the space exploded in blinding white. The Crawlers shrieked, flailing against each other, smashing into walls as the light stripped their senses.

"Push!"

Thanks to Tang Wei we learned simple terms, helping the others follow commands or take action without complex bullshit.

We charged in.

Tang Wei led the centre, her shotgun barking in controlled rhythm—left, right, reload, repeat. Each blast split a Crawler clean in two or sent it crashing into steel.

Roulan backed her up with short, tight bursts—her suppressor humming with fire as three Crawlers dropped in quick succession.

Chen and Deng fired from the flank—arrows snapping through twitching spines, leaving bodies limp before they hit the ground. Zhou Xue fired low, disabling legs and leaving openings for Yifei to rush in.

Mu Qinglan’s blade carved a path through the right. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t stop moving. The Endless Night flickered like liquid as it cut through one throat, then plunged through a chest, then back into the ready stance like a reaper at work.

Yifei vaulted over a crate, slammed her spear down through a writhing torso, then flipped backwards as two more Crawlers lunged past her and ran straight into Deng Hua’s boots—he stomped the first, impaled the second with a hatchet.

Liang Mei and Zhou covered the rear, taking out stragglers and making sure no one circled behind us.

In less than sixty seconds, the room fell quiet again.

Blood pooled across the floor, slick and black from the crawlers that exploded. Their limbs twitched, and their heads rolled. None of them kept breathing. If they ever had breath to begin with.

But the Ghoul wasn’t here.

I stared toward the open storage corridor ahead.

"Where is it?"

Mu Qinglan’s slightly breathless question came as she cleaned the blade of endless night.

But the only answer I had was....

"I don’t know..."