Apocalypse: I Can Upgrade Everything

Chapter 121: How About Simulating a Death God?

After issuing a quick round of orders, the convoy decided against scavenging for more supplies immediately. The priority was to get Wu Jianshan back to the camp.

After all, saving lives came first. And with a local like Wu Jianshan in tow, gathering supplies later would be a walk in the park.

Wu Jianshan slid into the passenger seat of Chen Ye’s pickup.

Chen Ye was in high spirits. It wasn’t every day you ran into a “dear old brother” in the middle of an apocalypse.

Outside, the blizzard was intensifying. The fresh layer of snow on the road was significantly deeper than the day before.

Skrrrrt.

Hearing the tires spin helplessly against the ice, Chen Ye frowned.

“What is it?” Wu Jianshan asked, noticing Chen Ye’s expression as the vehicle lurched to a halt, the wheels whining in a futile struggle for traction.

“What does it look like? We’re anchored.”

“So, what do we do now?” Wu Jianshan felt a premonition of doom.

“Get out and push!”

Wu Jianshan blinked, looking left and right before pointing a trembling finger at his own nose. “You… you want me to push?”

There were only two people in the cab: Chen Ye and Wu Jianshan.

As for Xue Nan? That kid, upon realizing Chen Ye had reunited with an “old classmate,” had tactfully moved to Sun Qianqian’s vehicle to give the “brothers” space to catch up.

Chen Ye looked at Wu Jianshan with an expression that screamed ‘are you an idiot?’

“Damn it, Old Wu, look at you—corrupted by the good life! If you don’t push, who will? Me? I’m the driver!” Chen Ye barked. “Hurry up, we’re burning daylight!”

Moments later, as Wu Jianshan heaved against the tailgate, his rear end sticking out into the biting wind, regret began to gnaw at his soul.

I am a Grand Bishop of the Death God Church. I command the faithful. And here I am, shoving a rusty pickup truck through a snowdrift like a common mule.

I knew I shouldn’t have rewritten reality to make us classmates, he thought bitterly. If I had just planted the memory that I was his father, this unfilial son would be the one down here freezing his ass off.

But it was too late to alter the setting now.

Once the cognitive anchor of an intimate relationship is set, trying to rewrite it again risks shattering the illusion and alerting the victim.

Of course, had Wu Jianshan truly understood Chen Ye’s personality, he would have modified his identity in Chen Ye’s mind without a second thought.

Who could have predicted that Chen Ye would treat a “cherished old friend” with such utter lack of courtesy?

This was the second time this had happened on the trip.

Wu Jianshan’s ceremonial robe—a garment of the Death God Church that looked undeniably expensive—was now stained with grease and slush.

In the silence of his mind, Wu Jianshan cursed Chen Ye a thousand times over.

After Chen Ye and the others departed, Chu Che had been waiting in a state of growing anxiety.

Too many people in the convoy were falling ill. The sickness had stripped them of the ability to move, leaving them vulnerable to the encroaching freeze.

The sky remained a canvas of swirling gray, dumping snow upon the world as if trying to bury history itself. The flakes were large, heavy, and endless. The drifts grew deeper; the temperature dropped lower.

Last night, a few survivors, emboldened by the warmth of the central bonfire, had decided to sleep beside it. The roaring flames had provided a false sense of security.

These people were originally from the school bus. However, the bus was severely overcrowded, making life inside cramping and miserable. Unwilling to squeeze back in, they had arranged a sleeping area near the fire, agreeing to take turns tending the flames.

But for some unknown reason, the watchman forgot to wake up.

That night, five people froze to death.

By morning, they had become ice sculptures.

Chu Che ordered the bodies dragged into the nearby snowfield and hastily buried under the drifts. There was no time for ceremony.

Inside the convoy, dozens more were showing symptoms—high fevers, delirium, and shivering. The rest, lacking proper winter clothing, were effectively paralyzed by the cold.

Even Chu Che wasn’t faring much better. He had few layers to spare. If not for his enhanced physique as a Sequence Beyonder, he likely wouldn’t have been able to stand.

Even Uncle A Bao had been ordered to stay inside a vehicle, shivering beneath a thin blanket.

When the bonfire was rekindled, the situation eased slightly, but the threat remained.

Captain Chu frequently looked toward the direction of Rong City, the worry in his eyes deep and heavy.

If Chen Ye didn’t return—or if he returned too late—the convoy’s lifeline would snap.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait much longer.

When the battered silhouette of the pickup truck emerged from the whiteout, Chu Che stood up, a surge of joy rushing through him.

The other survivors in the camp, noticing their captain’s reaction, strained their ears. Through the howling wind, they heard the low rumble of engines.

“It’s Mr. Chen! And Iron Lion…”

“They’re back…”

“They made it!”

“Oh, thank god…”

Cheers erupted throughout the camp.

Many survivors, disregarding the biting cold, rushed out into the snow to welcome the convoy. Even as their teeth chattered—clack-clack-clack—their eyes shone with hope as they watched the vehicles approach.

They were waiting for their heroes.

Chen Ye and his team rolled in like conquering generals.

They had left with three vehicles. They returned with five.

In addition to the cars belonging to Chen Ye, the pink-haired girl (Nana), and Zhou Xiaoxiao, there was now a box truck and a large touring bus.

The five vehicles lined up at the edge of the camp.

“You’re finally back,” Chu Che called out, his voice tight. “Did you find them?”

His primary concern was whether they had secured enough winter clothing and medicine. Without these two things, the convoy was doomed.

“We raided a Bosideng outlet. There’s enough down for everyone.”

Ding Dong leaped down from the cab of the box truck. She threw open the rear doors, revealing a cargo hold stuffed to the brim with colorful, puffy coats.

The survivors roared with excitement.

They swarmed the truck, grabbing bundles of clothing and pulling them on right there in the snow.

Only then did Chu Che let out a long, heavy sigh of relief.

Soon, the camp was transformed. The shivering wretches were replaced by people looking like colorful bears, wrapped in thick, high-quality down jackets.

“Holy shit, this is Bosideng! This is the high-end stuff!”

“These jackets used to sell for thousands a pop. I never thought I’d be wearing one!”

“Bro, you’re living the high life now!”

“I had no choice before,” one man laughed, zipping up a thick parka. “Mortgage, kids, parents… I could never justify buying this for myself. Who knew the apocalypse had perks?”

Even the sick were helped into warm clothes by their peers. In no time, the entire camp was outfitted in heavy winter gear.

As for the fifth vehicle, it was a large touring bus that He Laosi had procured.

Finding such a pristine vehicle made the former thief the envy of the camp. Who would have thought that He Laosi—a man despised by society before the end—would become one of the most popular figures in the wasteland?

It wasn’t that the convoy lacked mechanics. Iron Lion’s school bus was maintained by two survivors. But hotwiring a modern heavy truck or a touring bus without the keys was a different beast entirely, thanks to advanced anti-theft systems.

Unless it was an ancient model, you needed a specialist. And He Laosi was that specialist.

“What about the medicine?” Chu Che asked, peering into the truck. “Did you bring it?”

Nana, standing nearby, smiled playfully. “Captain, look who this is.”

Chu Che followed the girl’s gaze. Standing beside her was a tall, gaunt man he didn’t recognize.

At first glance, Chu Che was confused. A stranger?

He looked again.

No. The man looked familiar.

I’ve seen him somewhere.

“Chu Che… look at me. Don’t you remember?”

Wu Jianshan wore a kind, benevolent smile, the look of a man reuniting with a long-lost comrade.

Chu Che’s expression shifted—from confusion to doubt, and then, as the cognitive override clicked into place, to utter shock.

The fog in his memory lifted, replaced by a warm, fabricated certainty.

“Captain Wu? Captain Wu, you… it’s you?”

“It’s me.”

“Captain Wu, I didn’t think… I thought you were dead! You’re alive… you…”

Even someone as rational and composed as Chu Che felt his eyes rim with red tears.

Watching from the side, Chen Ye frowned slightly.

What’s the deal with this guy? Why didn’t Old Wu mention he knew Chu Che on the drive over? Something’s fishy.

But a second later, Chen Ye dismissed the inconsistency.

Chu Che’s emotions were raw, genuine. He was excited.

Chen Ye’s eyes darted around, calculating. I finally ran into an old classmate, and he turns out to be a powerful figure in the God-Worshipping Sequence.

From what Wu Jianshan had said, this Sequence was incredibly potent.

We’re brothers, right? Surely I can fleece—I mean, borrow—some good stuff from him. He wouldn’t be stingy with family.

The Death God entity Wu Jianshan served was undeniably strong.

If I beg my dear old classmate, maybe he’ll let me observe that Death God up close.

Chen Ye’s mind raced. His innate ability to manipulate smoke and simulate entities had never been fully realized. If I could simulate a Death God… wouldn’t I be invincible?

He didn’t need a full replication. Even simulating half of a Death God’s power would be an earth-shattering upgrade.

Opportunities like this were one in a million.

In the past, Chen Ye had never even considered simulating an Anomaly.

Because it was suicide.

When an Anomaly meets a human, there is only one outcome: torture, slaughter, and consumption.

But now…