Apocalypse: I Can Upgrade Everything

Chapter 203: The Mist Lord Branch

“Cough… Greetings, Village Chief. I am Chu Che—Pathfinder Sequence 2, Divine Concealer.”

Chu Che stepped out from behind Iron Lion’s massive frame, his expression a mask of forced composure. When he had first laid eyes on the Divine Elephant, the sheer, alien scale of the thing had shattered his nerves, momentarily stripping away his professional veneer.

Chen Ye followed suit, though his departure from behind the Captain was far more casual. His skin was significantly thicker than Chu Che’s; he barely registered Sun Qianqian’s look of pure, unadulterated disdain.

“Zhan Youdao—Celestial Master Sequence 2, Exorcist Daoist,” a shrill, grating voice announced.

It was the sloppy Daoist in the white sneakers. His voice was just as irritating as his appearance—a high-pitched, mocking whine that matched the shifty glint in his eyes.

“Da Shan—Buddha Sequence 2, Ascetic Monk,” the bald youth behind him added. His voice was a stark contrast—low, resonant, and projectively calm. It was the kind of voice that inspired immediate, if cautious, trust.

The three newcomers had offered their full titles and ranks immediately, an act of significant diplomatic weight. In this broken world, the etiquette of survival had shifted. Disclosing your Sequence and rank upon a first meeting was a signal of ultimate “sincerity.” It was a gesture of transparency, a way of saying: I am showing you my hand so we don’t have to kill each other yet.

If a traveler only offered a name, it was a polite way of saying they wanted nothing to do with you. To push further in such a case was to invite a lethal misunderstanding.

Sun Qianqian, never one for subtlety, was the first to reciprocate. She ignored the Daoist entirely and beamed at the monk.

“Master Da Shan, it’s a pleasure,” she chirped. “Sun Qianqian—Sword Immortal Sequence 2, Sharpening Realm. Hehe… I look forward to your guidance!”

Da Shan’s face flushed a faint, embarrassed red, but he maintained his composure, raising a single palm in a formal Buddhist salute. Zhan Youdao, the sloppy Daoist, didn’t seem offended by the snub; he just stood there with that same crooked, oily grin.

“Ding Dong—Pugilist Sequence 2, Mountain Breaker. My respects to the Chief, the Daoist, and the Master.”

Chen Ye cursed silently. Idiots. They were laying their entire hands on the table. If a conflict broke out, the enemy would know exactly which vulnerabilities to exploit.

Iron Lion stepped forward next, his grin wide and guileless. “Iron Lion—Titan Sequence 2, Two-Headed Giant!”

Despite his internal reservations, Chen Ye felt the collective weight of their expectant stares. He stepped forward reluctantly, offering a thin, professional smile. “Chen Ye—Smoke Apostle Sequence 2, Mist Barrier Master.”

At the mention of his title, the Big Head Village Chief perked up, a flash of genuine surprise crossing his weathered face. “Oh? I didn’t expect to find a Supernatural Pathway out here. And a Smoke Apostle, no less?”

Chen Ye’s brow arched. “Is there something wrong with the Supernatural Pathway?”

The Chief chuckled, shaking his massive head. “Not at all. It’s just that, from what I’ve gathered, the Supernatural Pathway is unique. Many of its branches offer a choice at higher ranks. For instance, when a Smoke Apostle hits Sequence 3, they face a fork in the road.”

“A fork?” Chen Ye’s interest was piqued. He leaned in, his cynical guard dropping just a fraction.

“According to our records, the Smoke Apostle can choose between three distinct paths at Sequence 3,” the Chief explained, his tone almost apologetic. “The first is simply a continuation as a Smoke Apostle. The second is the Mist Lord. As for the third… I’m afraid my knowledge ends there.”

Mist Lord.

The name felt heavy. It sounded infinitely more dominant, more regal, than a mere “Apostle.” Chen Ye felt a surge of cold, calculating anticipation for his next advancement. Even if the Chief hadn’t told him, he would have learned eventually through the System, but knowing now allowed him to adjust his mental focus.

The big-headed old man was surprisingly useful. In the post-apocalypse, knowledge wasn’t just power—it was the rarest commodity. There was no internet to browse, no AI to consult for free. Information was often guarded more jealously than Artifacts.

Chu Che and the Chief exchanged a few more pleasantries before the old man gestured toward the horizon.

“Friends, standing in the dirt is no way to conduct business. How about an invitation to Shenxiang Village? We’d be honored to host you.”

“Up… up there?” Chu Che looked at the mountain of an elephant, his mind reeling. He wanted to see it, certainly, but the logistics were baffling.

The Chief laughed, correctly interpreting Chu Che’s hesitation. “Are you worried about your Supplies and your vehicles, Captain?”

“Hahaha… Don’t give it a second thought. Just drive your trucks onto the trunk. The Divine Elephant will carry you and your fleet up to the gates.”

As he spoke, the massive trunk—wide enough to serve as a single-lane highway—descended with a dull, earthy thud. The Chief made a grand, sweeping gesture of invitation.

Chen Ye and Chu Che shared a long, silent look.

Chu Che’s eyes: “Ye Zi, you want to be the guinea pig?”

Chen Ye’s eyes: “After you, Captain. Lead by example.”

Finally, both of them turned their gaze toward Iron Lion.

The simple-minded giant just grinned, completely unaware that his “friends” had just volunteered him for potentially lethal reconnaissance. He hopped into the school bus and rumbled onto the grey, leathery surface of the trunk.

Ding Dong’s van followed next. It was so heavily laden with processed fish and Supplies that the engine groaned under the incline. Iron Lion jumped out to help, as did the monk, Da Shan. Together, the two titans of physical strength lifted either side of the chassis, walking the van up the ramp while Zhou Xiaoxiao sat wide-eyed in the driver’s seat.

Within minutes, all five vehicles were parked on the trunk. Chen Ye stepped out of his Doomsday Pickup, his boots crunching against the textured, living hide of the Divine Elephant. It was a surreal sensation.

The trio from the village stood with them. Chen Ye noticed the Big Head Village Chief’s eyes wandering toward the slabs of smoked fish hanging from the trucks. The old man’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his eyes gleaming with a very human hunger. He quickly wiped his mouth and regained his “Chiefly” composure.

“Everyone, hang on,” the Chief warned. “We’re going up.”

Before the words had fully registered, the trunk gave a massive, low-frequency shudder. Chen Ye felt his stomach drop as the ground beneath his feet was hoisted into the air. He watched the trees and the scorched landscape below shrink into miniatures.

The scale was dizzying. Chen Ye’s heart hammered against his ribs as they ascended toward the clouds.

When the trunk finally leveled out at the top of the elephant’s back, Chen Ye snapped out of his trance. The drivers hurriedly moved their vehicles off the “elevator” and onto the plateau.

Only then did they have a moment to breathe and look at the world they had just entered.