Apocalypse: I Can Upgrade Everything

Chapter 131: And Then There Was Another Shameless Person

“Cough! Cough, cough…”

Wu Jianshan choked on his own saliva, hacking violently as Chen Ye’s demand registered.

It took him a long moment to catch his breath. When he finally looked up, his eyes were blazing with incredulity.

“What do you think Death God’s Blood Tears are?” Wu Jianshan wheezed. “Tap water? You think I can just turn a faucet and fill a bucket?”

“Come on, aren’t we brothers?” Chen Ye leaned back, picking his teeth. “You weren’t this stingy back in university. Remember when—”

“Stop! Stop right there.” Wu Jianshan held up a hand. “Brother or not, you can’t skin the same sheep twice in one day! A hundred drops? Are you insane? Get out. I don’t need your help that badly.”

“Don’t be like that, Old Wu. Let’s negotiate.” Chen Ye’s grin didn’t falter. “Besides, these tears aren’t just for me. I have a team to feed. Sun Qianqian, Iron Lion, Ding Dong… they all need a taste.”

“Think about it. We’re Sequence Beyonders. We’re living free. Why should we submit to your church and follow your orders unless there’s a damn good incentive?”

Wu Jianshan gritted his teeth. He hated how much sense Chen Ye was making.

In the end, after a grueling round of haggling, they struck a deal.

Chen Ye walked away with ten bottles.

Each bottle contained two drops. Twenty drops total.

In exchange, Chen Ye promised to deliver the entire convoy—Beyonders and civilians alike—into the fold of the Death God Church.

“Don’t worry, brother,” Chen Ye said, patting his chest with feigned solemnity. “I guarantee completion of the mission. You can count on me.”

Wu Jianshan waved him off, refusing to look at Chen Ye’s smug face for a second longer.

Left alone in his office, Wu Jianshan massaged his temples.

The Death God’s Blood Tears weren’t technically a “divine” medicine, but obtaining them was a nightmare. The specific meat required to trigger the Death God’s weeping… was becoming harder to hunt.

He had agreed to Chen Ye’s extortion for one reason: fear.

Chu Che wasn’t the only one sensing the encroaching darkness. Wu Jianshan had his own sources.

The Abyssal Blood Eye was making its move.

The severed eyeball found at the gate was a declaration of war. The Abyssal Blood Eye was far more insidious than the Eight-Limbed Human Face. Unless the Death God manifested personally, Wu Jianshan wasn’t confident he could repel it.

He needed to cleanse the Changwang District of these rivals immediately.

It’s my own fault, Wu Jianshan thought bitterly. I was too greedy. I brought too many sheep into the pen.

The sudden influx of over a hundred survivors had shattered the delicate balance of the school’s aura. The concentration of life force was so potent that the external Anomalies were overcoming their instinctive fear of the Death God.

If he didn’t consolidate control and boost the Death God’s influence through mass worship soon, the school would become a buffet.

Chen Ye walked down the hallway, clinking the vials in his pocket.

Ten bottles. Twenty drops.

If he upgraded and purified all of them, he might be able to push his Sequence to the next level. Sequence 2 was within reach.

But what if ten bottles weren’t enough?

If I use them all and don’t level up… I’ll need to shear the sheep again.

Chen Ye’s eyes narrowed.

If the convoy joins the Church too quickly, I lose my leverage. No leverage, no Blood Tears.

I need to stall.

It wouldn’t be easy. The diluted Blood Tears had saved lives yesterday, and the cult’s reputation was soaring among the survivors. Even the guy with the gouged-out eyes had been stabilized by the cult’s technique.

Wu Jianshan had the moral high ground.

Chen Ye had prestige, sure, but he wasn’t a leader like Uncle A Bao. And Uncle A Bao belonged to Chu Che.

Troublesome.

Just minutes ago, he had vowed to his “brother” that he would handle everything. Now, he was actively plotting to sabotage the very deal he had made.

Chen Ye felt zero guilt.

Wu Jianshan probably never expected his “old classmate” to be this morally flexible. If the Death God knew, she probably would have decapitated Chen Ye the moment he walked into the auditorium.

“Boss Chen,” a voice called out from the shadows. “You’re smiling like a cat that just ate the canary. Profitable meeting?”

Chen Ye jumped.

Chu Che was leaning against the wall at the end of the corridor, a fox-like smile on his face. Behind him, the window framed the endless, falling snow.

This guy is like a ghost. Speak of the devil, and he appears.

“Captain Chu,” Chen Ye recovered quickly. “What are you doing lurking here?”

“Nothing much. Just wanted to see if Boss Chen needs any help… and if there’s any soup left for the rest of us.”

Chu Che had been tailing him. He didn’t trust Chen Ye for a second. He knew the pragmatist wouldn’t visit Wu Jianshan without an angle.

Chen Ye’s eyes darted around. He leaned in close.

“Captain Chu, are you interested in a business proposition?”

“What kind of business?”

“Here’s the situation…”

Chen Ye spun a sanitized version of his negotiation.

“Wu Jianshan gave me four bottles of undiluted Death God’s Blood Tears,” Chen Ye lied smoothly, cutting his haul by more than half. “We need to work together.”

“You handle the survivors. Stall them. Don’t let them join the Church too easily. Make them hesitate. I’ll handle Wu Jianshan and keep the pressure on.”

Chu Che looked at him. He knew instantly that Chen Ye was holding out on him.

Plotting against your old Captain? Shameless.

But the thought passed quickly. They were just skimming some supplies, not killing anyone. Besides, the “Captain” in the office felt less and less like the man Chu Che remembered.

“Four bottles?” Chu Che asked skeptically.

“Captain, we’re on the same team. Would I lie to you?” Chen Ye looked hurt. “You think Wu Jianshan is easy to roll? Getting four bottles out of him was like pulling teeth. It was only because of our deep, brotherly bond that he gave me anything at all.”

Seeing Chu Che’s continued doubt, Chen Ye raised three fingers.

“Captain Chu, I swear on Iron Lion’s name—no, on my own reputation! It’s exactly four bottles.”

My reputation is worth about as much as a concrete parachute, Chen Ye thought, but Iron Lion doesn’t need to know.

Chu Che finally nodded, accepting the lie because the bribe was too good to pass up.

Chen Ye reached into his pocket and pulled out four small glass vials. The crimson liquid inside swirled sluggishly, glowing with a faint, eerie light.

“Here. All four. Take them,” Chen Ye said, handing them over. “This is good stuff, Captain. Use it wisely.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Chu Che said, his eyes gleaming as he pocketed the vials.

He hadn’t used the Blood Tears before, but the diluted version was miraculous. Even if it didn’t boost his power, its trade value was immense.

With the transaction complete, the alliance of the shameless was solidified. They would milk the cult for everything it was worth.

Chen Ye turned to leave.

“Yezi, wait,” Chu Che called out softly.

“What is it? You want a receipt?”

“No. Something serious.”

Chu Che’s face lost its conspiratorial humor, returning to the grim mask of the Rational Investigator.

“You remember the Pathfinder Sequence 2 ability? [Marking]?”

“Yeah. You mentioned it. The invisible graffiti.”

“I saw more,” Chu Che whispered. “There were three messages left by the previous Pathfinder.”

“At the gate: [RUN!!!]”

“In the security booth: [DO NOT BELIEVE A SINGLE WORD HE SAYS!]”

“And inside our classroom… on the blackboard: [THEY EAT PEOPLE!!!]”

Chen Ye frowned. “Wait. You said ‘our classroom’? Only the blackboard in Fourth Grade, Class Three?”

“That seems unlikely,” Chen Ye muttered. “Unless the previous Pathfinder was a prophet who knew exactly which room we’d pick?”

Chu Che shook his head slowly. The look in his eyes was chilling.

“No, Chen Ye. It wasn’t just our room.”

“I checked.”

“It’s on every blackboard. In every classroom.”

Chen Ye fell silent.

The image was horrifying. A desperate Pathfinder, running from room to room in this massive school, frantically scribbling the same warning over and over again for a future comrade he might never meet.

THEY EAT PEOPLE.

THEY EAT PEOPLE.

THEY EAT PEOPLE.

Chu Che had chosen to share this only with Chen Ye. He knew Chen Ye was paranoid enough to handle it. If he told Iron Lion or Sun Qianqian, they might inadvertently tip off Wu Jianshan.

“Do you think…” Chen Ye started, his voice low. “Do you think Old Wu is a fake? Is he…”

Throb.

A spike of pain drove through Chen Ye’s skull. His thoughts scrambled, forcibly redirected by the cognitive hazard.

“No,” Chen Ye muttered, rubbing his temples, his eyes glazing over for a split second. “Old Wu is Old Wu. He’s still the guy I know. Just… changed.”

“Forget it, Captain. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Neither man could crack the illusion yet. They shelved the doubt, burying it under layers of pragmatism.

Whoever stands in the way of my survival is my enemy, Chen Ye thought, his mind clearing. Even you, Wu Jianshan. Even if you are my brother.

Just then—

“AHHHHHHH!”

Another scream shattered the silence of the school.

It came from the floor below. And this time, the voice was undeniably female.