Apocalypse: I Can Upgrade Everything

Chapter 103: The Whale Flying in the Sky

For the next two days, the convoy wandered aimlessly through the desert.

Captain Chu Che would frequently signal to stop, climb out of his vehicle, and stare off in a specific direction, muttering incessantly to himself like a man possessed.

Every time he did this, the weight of hundreds of lives rested on his shoulders. The survivors watched him with desperate hope.

And every time, he would withdraw his gaze, disappointment etched on his face.

Everyone knew Chu Che was hunting for water.

There were a few survivors in the convoy who had been geologists before the apocalypse, but in this shifting wasteland, their conventional knowledge seemed useless.

Survival depended entirely on Captain Chu Che.

Consequently, their water reserves were plummeting.

Despite strict rationing, the consumption rate far exceeded their calculations. The desert heat was a thief; even sitting perfectly still, the survivors sweat profusely, their bodies draining moisture into the arid air.

Chen Ye could feel the sour stench radiating from his own skin. If he rubbed his arm, rolls of dark grime would peel off in long, disgusting strips.

Under these conditions, even Xu Lina, who had been scheming to seduce Chen Ye, lost her drive. She spent her days hiding in the car or resting, too exhausted to plot.

No matter how much she tried to preen, her hair hung in greasy, matted clumps.

The others were no better off.

The pink-haired girl, however, remained an anomaly of boundless energy.

Every night, she would return from the darkness, visibly exhausted from whatever secret activities she was up to. Although Chen Ye never got too close, he could guess that her body odor was likely… impressive.

But not everything was grim.

The countdown for the Doomsday Pickup’s next upgrade was now under thirty hours.

As for Xue Nan, the former influencer, the aftermath of his self-mutilation was horrific. Since slicing his own face open, he had applied no medicine, leaving the wounds exposed to the dry, gritty air.

In just one day, his features had become unrecognizable.

The breathtaking, androgynous beauty that had once captivated millions was gone without a trace. If a former fan were to see him now, they would never connect this scarred wretch to the internet celebrity they once adored.

Fortunately, the kid was resilient.

Even without antibiotics or painkillers, his spirit hadn’t broken.

During rest breaks, he still insisted on cleaning Chen Ye’s truck.

Since water was more precious than gold, he couldn’t wash it. Instead, he used his own tattered T-shirt as a rag, buffing away the dust. After each session, he would meticulously shake the dirt from the fabric, preparing it for the next time.

Chen Ye, however, remained unmoved. He didn’t offer the boy a single extra drop of water.

He wasn’t running a charity, and his kindness had limits.

He did, however, toss him some camel meat.

The live camels were mostly gone. To preserve the meat, the survivors had invented a crude jerky-making method.

When they camped, they would bury fresh camel meat deep in the sand.

After a full day of baking under the relentless sun—before the Blood Moon rose—the sand became a natural oven, too hot to touch with bare hands. The intense heat rapidly leeched moisture from the buried meat, drying it out.

The next morning, they would dig up the desiccated slabs.

During the day, they also draped meat over the sides of their vehicles. Between the hot metal and the sun, fresh meat would lose most of its moisture in hours.

The resulting jerky tasted like leather and sand, but it wouldn’t rot.

It was a desperate solution for a desperate time.

Some survivors who considered themselves gourmets turned their noses up at the crude preparation, but they had no better ideas to offer.

Every night, Chen Ye continued to practice the Blood Moon Breathing Technique. He could feel his supernatural power swelling with each session.

He tested his progress. While a single puff still couldn’t create a fog bank covering hundreds of meters, he could now generate a dense smoke screen seven or eight meters in diameter.

It was a significant improvement.

If he encountered that Demon Sequence youth again, a few puffs would be enough to blind his senses and seize the initiative. The tactical potential of his smoke was vast; as long as he kept growing, it would become a terrifying arsenal.

January 1, 2031.

By the old world’s calendar, today was New Year’s Day.

Chen Ye glanced at the system interface. The countdown had dropped to ten hours. Soon, the Doomsday Pickup—the vehicle that had evolved all the way from a humble bicycle—would become an Artifact.

He held high hopes for what kind of abilities an Artifact-tier vehicle would possess.

At that moment, Captain Chu Che was standing barefoot atop a high dune, his clothes snapping loudly in the fierce wind.

He stared at a crude, hand-drawn map, a rare look of deep doubt clouding his features.

Chen Ye pushed his sunglasses down his nose and scanned the horizon. There was nothing but endless yellow sand. No ruins, no oasis, just death.

“Captain Chu Che,” Chen Ye called out, his tone teasing. “Are you up to the task or not?”

Chu Che shot him a glare, too annoyed to dignify the jab with a response.

Below the dune, the two-headed Iron Lion sat idly in the sand, looking left and right with a goofy expression. His thick hide made him impervious to the scorching grit.

The pink-haired girl perched on the edge of a car roof, the breeze playing with her long hair. despite the grime on her face, she retained a delicate, doll-like quality.

Ding Dong, the newcomer, sat cross-legged under a shade tarp, meditating. Her utter stillness felt jarring against the chaotic background of the camp.

They had stopped early today. It was just past 3:00 PM when Chu Che ordered them to make camp.

Some survivors were busy salting meat; others were preparing a meager dinner.

Suddenly, the light around Chen Ye dimmed. It felt as if a massive cloud had drifted overhead, blotting out the sun.

Is it… going to rain?

Chen Ye was puzzled. The air remained bone-dry.

He looked up.

His eyes instantly bulged in their sockets.

His aura shifted in a split second, transforming from relaxed to dangerously lethal. His hand snapped to the handle of his Heavy Machete, and spectral willow branches erupted from his arm, coiling around him defensively.

“What the… fuck…”

Chen Ye was dumbstruck. Words failed to capture the sheer absurdity of what he was seeing.

Beside him, Captain Chu Che wore an identical expression of slack-jawed shock, staring at the sky.

Iron Lion’s sleeping second head seemed to be startled awake. Both heads craned upward, tracking the object in the sky.

The pink-haired girl’s mouth hung open, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Ding Dong snapped out of her meditation, her eyes flying open to stare upward, her usual calm shattered by astonishment.

The ordinary survivors fared even worse. Many collapsed, their legs turning to jelly. Some began to kowtow frantically, pressing their foreheads into the sand as if worshipping a deity descending to the mortal realm.

Xu Lina was so startled she dropped her comb.

Zhou Xiaoxiao, who had lost significant weight recently, looked up. Her face had sharpened from a soft oval to a delicate “melon-seed” shape, making her large eyes appear even more enormous as she stared in horror.

“What… is that?”

Someone managed to squeeze the words out of a constricted throat.

“A whale… is flying in the sky?”

Even the person who said it couldn’t believe the words leaving their own mouth.