Apocalypse: I Can Upgrade Everything

Chapter 122: Run!

Wu Jianshan hadn’t expected to be cast in the role of “Captain” by the Pathfinder Sequence Beyonder standing before him.

The God-Worshipping Sequence’s ability, Intimate Relationship, was incredibly potent in the early stages, but it carried a chaotic element: the user couldn’t fully control the narrative.

Once activated, the target projected the image of the person who had left the deepest impression on their memory onto the user. The less the user tried to artificially tweak the details, the more seamless the illusion became, and the less likely the target was to suspect the authenticity of their new reality.

If the target were an ordinary human, Wu Jianshan would have manually adjusted the backstory to fit his needs.

But against a Sequence Beyonder, Wu Jianshan preferred a hands-off approach. Meddling with the memories of a Beyonder was risky; their spiritual intuition was sharp, and one slip-up could shatter the glamour.

This passive approach was exactly how the farce with the pink-haired girl occurred, resulting in Chen Ye becoming her “Elder.”

And now, Chu Che had merged a pivotal figure from his past with the man standing in front of him, firmly believing that Wu Jianshan was his long-lost Captain.

Chu Che was trembling with emotion.

“Chu Che, hold on. I heard you have many sick people here. I brought medicine. Saving lives is the priority!” Wu Jianshan said, playing the part of the benevolent leader perfectly.

“Right, right! Saving people first!” Chu Che snapped out of his daze, wiping his eyes. “You haven’t changed, Captain. After all this time, you’re still so kind… If you hadn’t…”

He paused, a flicker of confusion crossing his face before the cognitive override smoothed it over. “By the way, Captain, I remember the Research Center had already fallen back then. How did you escape?”

In Chu Che’s heart, this Captain was not just a superior, but a mentor—the man who guided him onto the path of the Sequence Beyonder. The Captain’s only flaw was his excessive kindness and a certain softness of character. If he hadn’t stayed behind to save those civilians years ago, there would have been a seat for him on this convoy.

Wu Jianshan’s smile stiffened imperceptibly. How the hell should I know how I escaped?

Wait. Research Center?

This guy’s background is complicated.

Usually, Wu Jianshan’s victims were simple folk, easy to manipulate. Take Nana, the pink-haired girl—barely a few words were exchanged before she spilled her entire life story, practically writing the script for him.

But someone like Chu Che, with a complex history involving official institutions? Rare. Troublesome.

To this day, even Chen Ye and the core team didn’t know Chu Che’s true identity before the apocalypse.

Wu Jianshan forced his smile to remain steady. “Let’s focus on the patients. We can talk about the past later.”

He retrieved a small vial containing a crimson liquid.

He carefully dripped a single drop into a bucket of clear water.

The drop of red liquid didn’t disperse immediately. Instead, it writhed and thrashed in the bucket as if it possessed a chaotic life of its own. Finally, with a reluctant shudder, it dissolved, dyeing the entire bucket of water a pale, diluted pink.

Trusting Wu Jianshan implicitly, the survivors didn’t question the ominous nature of the “medicine.”

Only Chen Ye, standing in the back, silently cast an [Appraisal] technique on the mixture.

He had been too caught up in the excitement of “reuniting with an old classmate” earlier to check, but Chen Ye was nothing if not pragmatic.

Paranoia was his survival strategy.

To Wu Jianshan, this would have been unthinkable. Why would old friends suspect each other? In this frozen hell, meeting a classmate should be a moment of pure joy, a time to reminisce by candlelight. Most people would agree to any request just for the sake of that shared humanity.

But Chen Ye’s thought process was entirely different: It’s been years. It’s the apocalypse. People change.

Who knows what kind of monster you’ve become? Who knows if you’re still the ‘brother’ who would take a bullet for me? Better to check.

[System Notification: 15 Slaughter Points consumed.]

[Item Name: Diluted Tears of the Death God] [Description: Tears shed by the Anomaly ‘Death God’. Contains incredible energy. For ordinary humans, consumption can alleviate or cure most diseases. For Sequence Beyonders, the concentrated version can enhance Supernatural Power.]

Chen Ye’s eyes narrowed, a gleam of avarice cutting through his suspicion.

This stuff can enhance Supernatural Power?

The effects were immediate. The survivors who drank the diluted solution saw the gray pallor of death fade from their faces. Within a minute, bedridden patients were struggling to their feet, strength returning to their limbs.

The miracle of the Death God’s Tears shocked the crowd into silence.

“Captain… this is… this is incredible,” Chu Che stammered.

“Uncle, you’re amazing!” Nana beamed, wearing an expression of pure familial pride.

Iron Lion grinned like a fool, and Ding Dong offered a polite, impressed smile.

Only Chen Ye looked different. He was looking at Wu Jianshan—or rather, his pockets—with the hunger of a starving wolf.

The camp came alive. With the sick healed, high-quality winter clothes distributed, and two heavy vehicles added to the fleet, the mood shifted from despair to celebration.

Survivors circled the new vehicles, chatting excitedly. Even He Laosi became a minor celebrity, with people buttering him up in hopes that the master thief might “acquire” a car for them next.

They didn’t realize that owning a car now was a burden. Without fuel, it was just a steel coffin.

“Chu Che, have you been living like this the whole time?” Wu Jianshan asked, surveying the makeshift camp with a look of pity.

Chu Che sighed. “Captain, you know how it is. It’s hard for us to stay in one place…” He gave a brief, sanitized summary of their journey.

Wu Jianshan’s eyes flickered with calculation. He hesitated for a dramatic beat, then spoke. “Chu Che, how about this: bring the convoy and come live with me in Rong City.”

“Go into the city?”

The faces of the group changed instantly.

Before the end, moving to the city meant safety, supplies, and convenience. Now, the word “city” was synonymous with “death trap.” Cities were hives of Anomalies.

“Uncle…”

“Second Uncle…”

“Don’t worry,” Wu Jianshan raised his hands soothingly. “Listen to me. I am a member of the God-Worshipping Sequence. I am currently the Archbishop of the Death God Church. We worship the Death God. With Her protection, there is no danger.”

“That Anomaly?” Nana blurted out. Her distrust of Anomalies was instinctive and deep-rooted.

For the first time, Wu Jianshan’s benevolent mask slipped. His expression turned dark and severe.

“It is the Death God!” he corrected, his voice dropping an octave. “Nana, you didn’t know, so I forgive you this once. But from now on, you will never refer to the Death God as an Anomaly. That is blasphemy.”

“From the moment I became a Believer, She has been, and always will be, a God!”

His tone was ironclad, carrying a terrifying, fanatical conviction.

Nana shrank back, sticking out her tongue in an ‘oops’ gesture.

Chen Ye remained unimpressed. An Anomaly is an Anomaly. You can put lipstick on a pig, but it’s still pork. However, he wasn’t stupid enough to argue theology with a powerful “brother” in the middle of a recruitment pitch.

“The same goes for all of you,” Wu Jianshan continued, his smile returning. “Come live in the city. There are plenty of empty buildings, plenty of supplies. It’s better than living in cars and tents, isn’t it?”

“In this weather, staying in tents is a slow suicide.”

The group hesitated. The temptation was real.

A real roof? Walls?

Even Chen Ye was tempted. His Doomsday Pickup was spacious, but sleeping curled up in a cab, no matter how upgraded, was miserable for a man of his size. And the cold… the cold was relentless. A concrete building, even without central heating, was a paradise compared to a frozen vehicle.

“Furthermore,” Wu Jianshan pressed his advantage, “if you join the Death God Church, you will receive the Death God’s protection. With your status as Beyonders, you could be granted immunity to the cold and wind.”

“How about it? Chu Che, Chen Ye, Nana, Ding Dong, Iron Lion… why don’t you all join? I can make you Dharma Protectors. Vice Bishops, even.”

“Isn’t that better than running for your lives in the wasteland?”

This was the second invitation in a few hours.

Chen Ye’s internal alarm bells rang loudly. He had a deep, cynical distrust of any organization, especially cults, and especially in the apocalypse.

But Iron Lion, the lovable idiot, looked like he was about to say yes. The Titan Sequence had traded intelligence for brawn, and in his simple mind, Second Uncle wouldn’t lie to me.

Mad Lion, the smarter personality, had conveniently fallen asleep during the drive back.

“Old Wu,” Chen Ye interrupted smoothly, cutting off Iron Lion. “You just got here. Let’s talk about the church stuff later. First, tell us more about the housing situation in the city.”

Wu Jianshan mentally cursed Chen Ye a thousand times, but outwardly, he nodded patiently and continued his sales pitch about the safety of Rong City.

The seed was planted. The core team was wavering.

The ordinary survivors, however, didn’t need convincing. When news spread that they might move to the city—to actual buildings—the camp nearly rioted with joy.

They had been running for too long. The desire for stability, for a place to stop, overwhelmed their fear.

Chu Che sighed. He looked at the hopeful faces of the survivors. He couldn’t refuse now. If he said no, they might actually mutiny.

“Then… alright.”

“YEAAAHHH!”

The cheer that erupted from the camp was deafening, louder and more joyous than any festival.

It took the convoy only ten minutes to pack. Desperation made them efficient.

The logs Chen Ye had chopped earlier were originally meant to be hauled along as precious firewood. Now that they were moving to the city, no one cared about dragging heavy logs.

Chen Ye, ever the pragmatist, wasn’t about to waste resources. He ordered Ding Dong and Iron Lion to process the wood.

“Chop it up. Throw it in the box truck. We’ll still need to cook and heat water in the city. The gas lines have been dead for months.”

Iron Lion activated his Flesh Armor. His hand morphed into a grotesque, bone-sharp axe. With a few savage swings, enhanced by Supernatural Power, he reduced the timber to firewood in seconds.

The convoy set off, a grand procession rolling toward the gray skyline of Rong City.

With the addition of the large bus, the overcrowding issue was solved. The journey was almost comfortable.

Guided by Wu Jianshan, they navigated the snow-choked streets to the Changwang District.

Wu Jianshan’s stronghold was a school: Rong City No. 2 Primary School.

As they approached, they saw the welcoming committee. Dozens of figures stood at the school gate, dressed in identical black hooded robes, standing motionless in the blizzard.

It was eerily cinematic, like a scene from a cult horror film.

The seductive female form of the Death God was nowhere to be seen.

Chu Che peered through the window, his expression a mix of tension and relief.

His Pathfinder Sequence senses were screaming. He could sense countless Anomalies in Rong City, but in the Changwang District, there were only three.

However, the strongest aura—a presence of suffocating terror—was located right inside that school.

He had never been this close to such a powerful Anomaly without being attacked. It felt like walking into a tiger’s den.

But… nothing happened. No attacks. No madness.

Maybe the Captain is right, Chu Che thought. Maybe this ‘Death God’ really can protect us.

“We’re here!” Wu Jianshan announced from the passenger seat of Chu Che’s car. “The Death God is with us. Where She resides, there is no danger.”

Wu Jianshan had insisted on riding with Chu Che, refusing Chen Ye’s offer to share the pickup with a fervor that suggested he feared for his life.

The convoy slowed.

Suddenly, Chu Che’s gaze locked onto the main gate of the school.

His pupils contracted to the size of pinpoints.

There, hovering over the entrance in a strange, luminescent script that seared into his retinas, were two massive words:

[RUN!!!]

Three giant exclamation marks pulsed like terrified, screaming faces.

A jolt of pure ice shot down Chu Che’s spine. He whipped his head around to look at Uncle A Bao in the back seat.

Uncle A Bao was smiling, looking at the school with eyes full of hope. He saw nothing.

He looked at Xiao Wang, the assistant. Xiao Wang was grinning ear to ear. He saw nothing.

He looked at Wu Jianshan. The “Captain” wore a look of smug satisfaction… and something else. Something wrong.

Chu Che felt his blood freeze.

There’s a problem.

This was [Marking]—an ability of the Pathfinder Sequence 2: Divine Concealer.

A Mark could leave information at a specific location, visible only to those the caster intended—or specifically hidden from those they wished to deceive.

Clearly, this Mark had been left by a previous Pathfinder. It was a message in a bottle, left specifically for another Beyonder of the same Sequence.

What happened to him here?

Why is he telling me to run?