Apocalypse: I Can Upgrade Everything

Chapter 128: This Place Is No Longer Safe

The scream tore through the morning silence of Rong City No. 2 Primary School, shattering the peace like glass.

Chen Ye’s first reaction was primal: his hand snapped to the hilt of the Heavy Machete beside his bed. His eyes darted to Chu Che.

The Captain was equally alert. One hand gripped a metal lighter—his ignition source—while the other was tucked deep inside his jacket, clearly clutching a hidden weapon.

He’s still holding back a trump card, Chen Ye noted. This old fox really isn’t honest.

Chen Ye’s gaze lingered on Chu Che’s hidden hand for a split second before sliding away, his expression smoothing into feigned indifference.

Chu Che slowly withdrew his hand, mirroring Chen Ye’s casual demeanor.

They dressed in silence, neither moving to leave the room immediately.

Instead, they waited. Five minutes passed. Only when the sound of frantic footsteps in the hallway grew into a chaotic stampede did they open the door.

Iron Lion was still snoring on his bed, oblivious to the world.

Chen Ye felt a pang of envy. It seemed that losing half his brain cells had cured the big man’s insomnia.

Stepping into the corridor, they were greeted by a blindingly white world.

The snow on the rooftops had thickened overnight, and the sky was still vomiting heavy flakes.

A crowd had gathered near the school gates. The black robes of the Death God Church mingled with the motley winter gear of the convoy survivors. Their chattering voices rose into the cold air, sounding thin and desolate against the vast backdrop of the blizzard.

Chen Ye and Chu Che pushed their way to the front.

Sun Qianqian and Ding Dong were already there, their faces pale. Uncle A Bao stood with his head bowed.

Only Wu Jianshan was missing.

Chen Ye looked down at the center of the commotion.

A young man lay on the frozen ground, his body twitching in spasmodic jerks. He was wearing a down jacket looted from the store yesterday, now dusted with a layer of fresh snow.

But it was his face that drew the eye.

Where his eyes should have been, there were only two jagged, bloody holes.

Crimson blood had pooled around his head, melting the snow into a grotesque slush.

His eyes were gone. Gouged out.

Chen Ye recognized him vaguely—a survivor from the camel caravan who had joined their convoy.

“What happened?” Chen Ye asked, his voice low.

“It’s Xiao Chao,” Uncle A Bao said, his voice trembling. Snowflakes clung to his eyebrows, making him look decades older. “His eyes… they’re gone.”

“You. Tell us what you saw.” Uncle A Bao pointed a shaking finger at another survivor.

The man, also from the convoy, was wide-eyed with terror.

“I… I went to the toilet this morning,” he stammered. “On the way back, I looked toward the gate… and I saw him.”

The school lacked indoor plumbing, forcing everyone to use the communal latrines outside.

“He was staggering,” the witness continued, acting out the motion. “Like he was drunk or hurt. I went to check on him because we’re friends… and then I saw his face.”

While they spoke, Uncle A Bao signaled for two men to carry Xiao Chao into the school building.

But everyone knew it was futile.

Losing eyes didn’t kill you. But in the apocalypse? Blindness was a death sentence. Unless the Death God’s Blood Tears could regenerate organs—which was unlikely—Xiao Chao was a walking corpse.

“It’s the Blood Eye. It has to be,” a voice whispered in a strange, accented tone.

“What Blood Eye?”

Chen Ye turned to see a woman in a black robe. Her hood was pulled back slightly, revealing delicate features that looked familiar.

“The Abyssal Blood Eye,” she whispered urgently, glancing around as if the air itself had ears. “You’re new, you don’t know. There are three—no, two—Anomalies in the Changwang District.”

She corrected herself quickly, fear flashing in her eyes.

“One is the Eight-Limbed Human Face you’ve seen. The other is the Abyssal Blood Eye.”

“It loves to eat eyes,” she hissed. “It’s terrifying.”

“Why are you telling us this?” Chen Ye asked, his eyes narrowing.

In a sea of cultists, only this foreign woman had stepped forward to warn them.

“My name is Choi Soo-eun,” she said rapidly. “If you ever leave this place… please, take me with you. Thank you.”

“You’re the National Songstress!” Sun Qianqian gasped, recognizing the Korean idol. “It really is you!”

Choi Soo-eun gave a polite, pained smile, then pulled her hood up and vanished back into the crowd.

Abyssal Blood Eye.

“Didn’t Old Wu say this place was safe?” Chen Ye muttered. “Why hasn’t he shown up?”

He scanned the crowd. No sign of the Grand Bishop.

He grabbed a passing black-robed cultist by the collar. “Where is Old Wu?”

The cultist snarled, ready to fight, but upon recognizing Chen Ye’s face—the man who was “brothers” with the Bishop—he instantly wilted into submission.

“The Bishop is reciting scriptures!”

“Where? Take me to him. Someone was mutilated at his doorstep, and he doesn’t even show his face?”

Chen Ye didn’t actually care about justice for Xiao Chao. People died every day.

He wanted the Blood Tears. Upgrading his strength was the only thing that mattered.

But the cultist turned pale, sweat beading on his forehead despite the freezing cold.

“I can’t! The Bishop recites scriptures for two hours every morning. No one can disturb him!”

“If we interrupt him… people will die! Please, let me go!”

The cultist wrenched himself free and ran away as if Chen Ye were the devil himself.

Recites scriptures for two hours every morning? No one can disturb him?

Chen Ye rubbed his chin, his eyes glinting with suspicion. Interesting.

Inside the classroom, the story of Xiao Chao’s tragedy was pieced together.

“He used to be with the camel caravan,” Uncle A Bao explained heavily. “He lost his girlfriend back in Yan Province.”

“He wanted a car so he could go back and find her.”

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Everyone knew that falling behind the convoy meant death. Going back to Yan Province alone was suicide. But grief makes people irrational.

When the convoy arrived in the city and Xiao Chao saw Ding Dong and He Laosi driving new vehicles, his obsession boiled over. He had begged He Laosi all night to help him hotwire a car.

He Laosi had refused to go out, citing safety, but eventually caved to the pestering and taught Xiao Chao the basics of hotwiring.

Xiao Chao had left at first light.

He planned to find a car, grab some supplies, and drive back into the hell of Yan Province to find a ghost.

Instead, he came back eyeless.

Chen Ye lit a cigarette, the smoke curling around his thoughtful expression. He ignored the tragic romance of it all.

“You said he went out in the morning? After daybreak?” Chen Ye asked, cutting through the mood.

“Yezi, do you have a heart?” Sun Qianqian snapped, wiping a tear. “How can you be so cold right now?”

Chen Ye ignored her. He looked at Uncle A Bao.

“Yes,” A Bao nodded grimly. “After daybreak.”

Sun Qianqian fell silent. The sentimentality evaporated, replaced by the cold realization of what Chen Ye was implying.

Ding Dong’s face hardened.

Chen Ye took a drag, the cherry of his cigarette glowing in the dim room.

“Morning means daylight,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “With the heavy snow and his lack of experience, he couldn’t have walked far.”

“He was likely just outside the school perimeter. Maybe a block away.”

“If he was attacked that close to the school, in broad daylight…”

Chen Ye looked at them, his gaze piercing.

“This place is no longer safe. We need to prepare to leave.”