Apocalypse: I Can Upgrade Everything

Chapter 135: The Fourth Iron Rule

“Qianqian, turn left ahead. Then right at the second intersection. The gas station is straight down that road.”

Chu Che’s voice crackled over the radio, calm but tight.

“Copy that!”

The response came from Little Yu, sounding resigned to her role as navigator for the directionally challenged Sword Immortal.

Ten minutes later, the convoy rolled to a stop in front of a dilapidated gas station. The billboard read “__PEC,” the first two letters long gone.

Chen Ye stepped out of his truck, his hand resting on the hilt of his Heavy Machete. The Tazi cigarette in his mouth was still burning, sending up curls of gray smoke.

Seven smoke-wolves tore themselves free from the haze, circling the perimeter with silent snarls.

No one laughed at his paranoia.

They were at the edge of the Changwang District. The sky was a suffocating lid of gray steel, blocking out every photon of sunlight. Snow fell relentlessly, dusting their shoulders in white.

“Move fast!”

With Uncle A Bao absent, Xiao Wang, the convoy assistant, took charge of the logistics. His authority extended only to the ordinary survivors like Zhou Xiaoxiao and Xue Nan, but they moved with desperate speed.

The difference in vehicle capacity became immediately apparent.

Chen Ye’s tank was full in minutes. The Doomsday Pickup’s fuel tank was only 60 liters—an upgrade from the system using two jerry cans, but still pitifully small for a wasteland vehicle.

Damn it, Chen Ye cursed silently. When we get back to the school, I’m ripping a few extended tanks off the Church’s trucks.

Chu Che and the pink-haired girl’s vehicles, however, seemed to have bottomless pits for tanks. They were still chugging fuel long after Chen Ye finished.

Fortunately, Uncle A Bao had borrowed—or swindled—a large supply of empty drums from the Death God Church. Combined with the convoy’s own reserves, if they could fill everything, fuel anxiety would be a thing of the past.

Everyone had a job. Some pumped, others hauled.

Even Zhou Xiaoxiao was working like a draft horse. She lugged a 30-liter drum in each hand, her face flushed red with exertion, moving at a trot. Boss Gao and Xue Nan manned the pumps, filling drums and sealing them with military precision. Not a second was wasted.

Their eyes darted around constantly, terrified of seeing movement in the white void.

The fuel was pooled. Chen Ye and the Beyonders would take the lion’s share, but the ordinary survivors would get enough to survive. Fairness was the currency of this convoy.

Chu Che stood barefoot in the snow.

Usually, the Captain avoided the cold due to his lack of footwear. But now, he stood ankle-deep in the freezing powder, his feet turning a raw, angry red, ignoring the pain.

He was staring intently to the West.

Ding Dong, Iron Lion, Sun Qianqian, and Chen Ye formed a defensive perimeter.

Chen Ye’s smoke-wolves looked impressive, pacing and growling. Only Chen Ye knew they were paper tigers—without a deep understanding of wolf biology, their combat power was low. But they were expendable scouts. If one died, he could just summon another.

I need to simulate the Death God, Chen Ye thought again. I need to talk to Wu Jianshan. Even 1% of that entity’s power would be a game-changer.

The pink-haired girl stood like a sentinel, snow piling on her pink hair and black jacket. Her hand never left the hilt of her sword.

Ding Dong was a statue, silent and ethereal. She looked less like a survivor and more like a part of the winter landscape.

Iron Lion… well, Iron Lion was just a beast. He was still wearing a t-shirt. Snowflakes hit his skin and hissed, evaporating instantly into steam. He was surrounded by a personal fog of body heat, looking like a raid boss charging up an attack.

“Captain! We’re full!” Xiao Wang shouted.

The tension in the air snapped.

“Go! Now!”

Chu Che scrambled back into his car, his face pale and grim.

No one asked questions. They moved.

In less than 30 seconds, the pumps were stowed, doors slammed, and engines roared. Chen Ye dismissed his smoke-wolves, and the convoy peeled out, retracing their tire tracks back toward the school.

The pre-cleared path allowed them to pick up speed, cutting through the snow curtain like a knife.

But Chu Che’s expression didn’t relax. If anything, it darkened.

Xiao Wang, driving Chu Che’s car, glanced at the Captain and felt his blood run cold.

In the convoy, there were rules. Iron Rules.

Every newcomer learned them on day one.

Rule 1: Don’t fall behind. Don’t fall behind. Don’t fall behind. You can lose your supplies, your dignity, your virginity—but if you lose the convoy, you die.

Rule 2: Scavenge everything you can, as long as Rule 1 is met.

Rule 3: Fairness is the foundation of survival.

Rule 4: When Captain Chu looks like he’s seen a ghost, panic.

Right now, Captain Chu looked like he was attending his own funeral.

“Captain, Captain,” the pink-haired girl’s voice chirped over the radio. “Manman says there’s a supermarket just a right turn from here. It hasn’t been looted. Should we hit it?”

“Negative!” Chu Che barked into the mic. “Return to the school immediately! Top speed!”

There was a pause. “Received!”

“Who is Manman?” Chen Ye asked.

“A cultist girl I befriended!” the pink-haired girl replied, sounding proud. “See? I know how to gather intel too.”

“Wow,” Chen Ye drawled. “I didn’t think you had the brain cells for espionage.”

“Shut up! I’m busy every day, unlike you!”

“Hey!” Iron Lion’s voice rumbled over the channel. “I’m busy too!”

“Are you guys ever polite?” Ding Dong sighed.

The banter flew back and forth, but it was hollow. Everyone could feel the suffocating pressure in the air. They were talking to keep the fear at bay.

But in the bus at the back, the mood was genuinely cheerful.

Ignorance was bliss. The ordinary survivors couldn’t see Chu Che’s face, and they couldn’t sense the gathering storm.

They were celebrating a massive haul.

“Boss Gao, we’re rich!” one of the brothers laughed. “This much gas will buy us anything.”

“Captain Chu is fair,” Boss Gao nodded. “He always delivers.”

“Xue Nan, what are you going to trade for?”

“Chocolate,” Xue Nan said quietly.

“Chocolate? That’s expensive.”

“My little sister loves it,” Xue Nan replied, looking out the window. “I want to save some for when I find her.”

“You still haven’t found her?”

“Not yet.”

“Don’t worry, man. Maybe tomorrow.”

The conversation drifted to lighter, cruder topics. The bus was a microcosm of society—people laughing, joking, and dreaming, oblivious to the fact that they were driving through a graveyard.

Zhou Xiaoxiao turned up the music in her sedan, relaxing into the seat. She had done well today. She would get a good share of the fuel. She was safe.

Only Chu Che was sweating.

In his sensory perception, the entire city of Rong City had woken up.

It felt like they had kicked a hornet’s nest the size of a skyscraper. Countless Anomalies were converging on their location, a tidal wave of malice closing in from all sides.

They were only a kilometer from the school. Just one turn.

“Xue Nan,” Boss Gao said suddenly, pointing out the window. “Look… is that a person in the snow?”