Apocalypse: I Can Upgrade Everything

Chapter 114: The Low-Temperature Crisis

“Food and water are stable for now,” Sect Leader Chu Che said, his voice tight with stress. “But we are critically low on everything else. We need cold-weather gear, thermal insulation, and heating Supplies.”

He gestured vaguely at the frozen world outside.

“And the vehicles. They need modifications immediately. Under these conditions, ‘freezing to death’ isn’t a figure of speech. It is a mathematical certainty.”

He turned his gaze to the large man. “Iron Lion, your school bus is packed with people, and you have the least amount of warm clothing. Watch them closely. I don’t want to wake up tomorrow to a bus full of corpses.”

Sect Leader Chu Che didn’t say don’t let anyone die. He said don’t let too many die.

In this extreme cold, zero casualties was a fantasy.

This wasn’t the desert anymore. The world had shifted gears. Heavy snow covered the mountains and plains, a blinding white sheet that concealed treacherous terrain. Since entering this zone, driving had become a nightmare.

Just hours ago, Iron Lion’s school bus had skidded on black ice, nearly careening into a ravine. Only his enhanced reflexes had saved them from a total party wipe.

Ideally, they would have snowmobiles. But snowmobiles were tourist toys found in northern resorts, things most people had only seen in movies. Here, they had to make do with what they had.

The snow fell in flakes as large as goose feathers, relentless and suffocating.

“If we don’t modify the tires, we’re stuck,” Sect Leader Chu Che continued, his words tumbling out in a nervous stream. “We need makeshift snow chains. Anything is better than bald rubber. And the windows—we need to insulate them with quilts or cardboard. The tents? Useless. Sleeping in those flimsy tents tonight is practically courting death. Unless you’re a Beyonder, you won’t wake up.”

Sect Leader Chu Che was rambling, repeating himself, his anxiety leaking through his professional facade.

The pressure on the Sect Leader was immense. This wasn’t just a hurdle; it was an existential threat. A “Party Wipe” was a very real possibility. If the ordinary survivors died, the Sequence Beyonders would be left alone in this white hell, with no support and no idea when the winter would end.

“Tomorrow morning,” Sect Leader Chu Che ordered, steadying his voice. “Chen Ye, Ding Dong, Iron Lion, and Sun Qianqian. We go on a supply run. Uncle A Bao, ask the convoy if anyone brave enough wants to tag along.”

He raised a finger, emphasizing the most critical rule.

“Remember: Three hours. We stay out for three hours, maximum. Any longer, and the high-tier Anomalies will track us down.”

The group nodded, dispersing to prepare.

Chen Ye looked toward the horizon, in the direction of Rong City. He wanted to leave now.

But the sun had set.

Anomalies were nocturnal predators. Heading into a ruined city at night wasn’t bravery; it was suicide.

He would have to endure the cold for one night.

It’s just cold, he told himself. I’m a Sequence Beyonder. I might be miserable, but I won’t die.

He climbed back into his Doomsday Pickup.

Instantly, the cold bit into his bones. The cab was a freezer. The metal surfaces burned to the touch. It was unbearable.

He climbed back out, shivering. He tried to borrow a quilt from Sect Leader Chu Che, but the man had nothing to spare.

Desperate, Chen Ye eyed the pink Mini EV nearby. It had a heater.

He walked over and knocked.

The window cracked open, revealing Sun Qianqian’s hostile face.

“What do you want?”

Her hand was already resting on the hilt of her sword. She looked ready to cut him down if his answer wasn’t satisfactory.

Inside, Little Yu clutched the door handle in terror, her voice shrill. “You adulterous couple! Don’t you dare! Don’t you think about kicking me out to do your shameless things! It’s freezing out there! I’ll die!”

Little Yu hadn’t forgotten the trauma of being evicted from the car before. The memory of standing alone in the dark, helpless and abandoned, was etched into her soul. Uncle A Bao had saved her then, but tonight was colder. Tonight, exile meant death.

Chen Ye didn’t feel awkward at the accusation. He was too cold to care about social niceties.

Sun Qianqian, however, turned bright red. She was, after all, a young woman who had just reached adulthood.

“Get lost!”

The window rolled up.

Chen Ye sighed. So much for the Mini EV.

“Chen Ye, you want to crash in my bus?” Iron Lion called out.

Chen Ye looked at the school bus and shook his head.

It was warm in there, sure. But that was because it was packed wall-to-wall with unwashed bodies. There wasn’t even room to stand, let alone lie down. Unless Chen Ye murdered a few survivors to clear some floor space, he wasn’t getting any sleep there.

Too cruel, he decided. Those people are still useful.

So, in the dead of night, Chen Ye took his Heavy Machete and trudged into the nearby woods.

If he couldn’t find shelter, he would build it.

Unlike the desert, which offered nothing but sand, the snowfield was rich in resources. Dead trees stood like skeletons in the drifts.

Chen Ye swung his weapon.

Thwack.

The Blood Resentment Machete was an Artifact. Even if its ranking wasn’t god-tier, using it to chop wood was like using a laser to cut butter. Trees toppled with a single stroke.

This was exactly why he had upgraded the Heavy Machete over the Hand Crossbow. Versatility. In Chen Ye’s hands, it was a weapon of mass destruction, a crafting tool for bolts, and a kitchen knife for slicing camel jerky.

As he worked, a shivering figure approached.

Chen Ye glanced up. It was a face ruined by scars.

“What are you doing here?”

“Too… too cold,” Xue Nan stammered, rubbing his hands together violently. The boy’s lips were blue, bordering on purple. “I came… to help.”

He was wearing a thin jacket and jeans. If he didn’t get near a fire soon, he wouldn’t survive the night.

With Xue Nan hauling the branches, the work went faster. Soon, other survivors, driven out by the freezing temperatures in their uninsulated cars, joined the effort.

Then came the heavy artillery.

Iron Lion stomped through the snow. The giant was still wearing his signature green t-shirt. Goose-feather snowflakes landed on his granite muscles and melted instantly, soaking the fabric. He didn’t seem to notice.

He walked up to a fallen tree trunk, grabbed it with one hand, and slammed it into the earth.

THOOM.

The frozen ground, hard as concrete, yielded instantly. He drove the trunk a full meter deep, creating a rock-solid foundation pile. He looked like he was placing a toothpick in a cake.

“Let’s get this done,” Iron Lion grunted.

With the Titan Sequence powerhouse acting as a human pile driver, they constructed a crude wooden shelter in minutes.

A pile of logs, each as thick as a bowl’s mouth, was stacked in the center.

Several survivors huddled around, flicking their lighters with trembling fingers, trying to ignite the kindling. The small twigs caught, but the main logs refused to burn.

“It’s too wet,” someone moaned. The wood was soaked through with snowmelt.

“Let me.”

Sect Leader Chu Che strolled into the shelter. He moved slowly, deliberately.

He pulled out his metal lighter. Before flicking it, he cast a wary, sideways glance at Chen Ye and Sun Qianqian.

Sure enough, both of them were wearing detestable, knowing smirks. They knew the embarrassing history of that Artifact.

Sect Leader Chu Che ignored them, composing himself. Just light the fire.

He flipped the lid. A small, orange flame danced on the wick.

Sect Leader Chu Che puffed out his cheeks and blew.

WHOOSH!

A torrent of orange fire erupted from the tiny device, roaring like a flamethrower. The blast of heat was physical, slamming into the faces of the onlookers and instantly banishing the biting cold.

The wet logs hissed, steamed, and then caught fire with a violent crackle.

Sect Leader Chu Che snapped the metal lid shut. The bonfire was blazing, emitting loud pop-pop-pop sounds as the sap boiled.

“Ohhhhh!”

Cheers erupted from the survivors. Faces that had been grey with cold flushed pink with relief.

Chen Ye moved closer to the flames, finally feeling his blood start to flow again.

The next morning, Chen Ye woke up freezing.

The fire had gone out hours ago.

He sat up, dusting snow off his shoulders. He looked at the huddled shapes around the blackened fire pit.

Several people who had slept closest to the fire for warmth hadn’t moved. Their skin was pale and hard, their limbs rigid.

They looked like ice sculptures.

Dead.

Chen Ye stood up, his breath misting in the air. The urgency of the situation hit him harder than the cold.

They needed cold-weather gear. Now.

A quick headcount revealed a grim reality: aside from the Sequence Beyonders, over 70% of the survivors were down with high fevers or frostbite.

The convoy was facing its greatest crisis yet.

If they didn’t solve this problem today, the entire group would be paralyzed.