Apocalypse: I Can Upgrade Everything

Chapter 142: The Calm Before the Storm

“Child! It’s me! It’s Mom! Come here, let me look at you!”

In the shadow of the small shop by the school gate, an old woman with a hunched back waved to a young man. Her expression was warm, maternal, and kind.

The young man froze, struck by lightning.

“Mom? You… you’re alive?” His voice trembled.

“You silly boy, of course I’m alive. I haven’t seen you in so long. Come here…”

“Mom!”

Tears flooded down the young man’s face like a broken dam. He stumbled forward, arms reaching out.

“Mom… I missed you too!”

SLAP!

A brutal backhand struck the young man across the face.

He went flying, skidding two meters across the snow. A red welt instantly blossomed on his cheek.

Chen Ye stood over him, looking down with cold eyes.

“Idiot.”

He didn’t wait for a thank you. He turned and walked away.

Under the tree, the kind old woman had vanished. In her place, a pair of venomous, glowing eyes stared from the darkness before retreating.

The young man clutched his swollen face, staring in horror at the spot where his “mother” had been. The realization hit him like a bucket of ice water.

Chen Ye hadn’t saved him out of kindness. It was a simple calculation. A live body today was a potential meat shield for tomorrow.

The battle between the Death God and the Abyssal Blood Eye had bought them some time.

But the deterrent effect only lasted two days.

After that, the situation deteriorated rapidly. Perhaps the Death God had shown a weakness during the fight, or perhaps the hunger of the Anomalies was simply too great.

Before, the siege only happened at night. Now, even in broad daylight, resentful eyes watched the school from every shadow.

The pressure was suffocating. It felt like the dam was about to burst, flooding the sanctuary with monsters eager to devour the hundred-plus souls inside.

Wu Jianshan issued a total lockdown: no cultist was allowed to leave. Uncle A Bao followed suit, confining the survivors to their classrooms. Even sanitation had to be handled indoors.

Tensions flared. Some cultists blamed the convoy for attracting the monsters. Several fights broke out, only quelled by the intervention of the Sequence Beyonders.

Wu Jianshan, to his credit, was fair. He publicly punished the instigators among his own flock, earning grudging respect from the convoy survivors.

Meanwhile, the loot from the gas station run had made Boss Gao, Xue Nan, and Zhou Xiaoxiao the envy of the camp. Fuel was liquid gold.

Zhou Xiaoxiao, however, was still mourning her car, which had been reduced to slag during the battle.

But she didn’t wallow. Instead, she had somehow convinced He Laosi to teach her his trade. Chen Ye often saw them in the snow, the master thief teaching the former idol how to hotwire a vehicle.

She was a diligent student.

It was ironic. Before the apocalypse, she was a star, and he was a criminal. Now, leaders begged for his skills and were rejected, while the star humbled herself to learn the art of theft.

The last battle had been profitable for Chen Ye.

Between his smoke-wolves, the Human-Faced Scorpion, and the final ramming attack, he had netted 37,000 Slaughter Points.

He wasn’t excited. In the System, points burned fast.

He spent 10,000 points immediately to Divine-Purify two bottles of Death God’s Blood Tears.

Every night, he went to the roof to cultivate.

And every night, he found Ding Dong there.

The woman was even more disciplined than he was. They ignored each other, maintaining a tacit, comfortable silence as they trained in the freezing wind.

Chen Ye’s body was building resistance to the Blood Tears. The gains were diminishing.

But he was close. Sequence 2 was within reach. If his calculations were correct, he would break through before his supply ran out.

Whenever he wasn’t cultivating, he was studying the video on the scavenged Fruit Phone.

He had watched the battle between the Death God and the Blood Eye fifty times. He could replay every frame in his mind with his eyes closed.

His Smoke Simulation had improved. He could now form a rough, unstable construct of the Death God. Even in this crude state, it was the strongest entity in his arsenal.

His previous simulations—the wolves, the scorpion, the Sky Whale—were flawed. He lacked understanding.

Jack of all trades, master of none, Chen Ye decided. I will focus everything on the Death God.

It was the strongest entity he had access to.

He tried to get closer, asking Wu Jianshan to let him observe the rituals. Wu Jianshan, who now saw Chen Ye as a walking disaster, politely refused. He had to maintain the “good brother” act, but his patience was wearing thin.

Chen Ye didn’t care. He pushed himself harder.

He sensed the clock ticking. The peace was fragile. A major attack was coming, and it would happen at night.

He modified the Doomsday Pickup again. He raided the Church’s remaining vehicles for headlights and auxiliary lamps, mounting them on his truck. He wasn’t spending points on hardware, only on integration.

He wasn’t the only one preparing.

Nana had stopped picking fights. She spent hours in the snowy playground, standing motionless with her sword. Her aura was shifting, sharpening like a blade.

Chen Ye stood outside the door of Fourth Grade, Class One.

Wu Jianshan’s new office.

He took a deep breath. He was here to negotiate.

Wu Jianshan wanted the survivors to join the Church. Chen Ye wanted the Abyssal Blood Eye.

It was a trade.

Sure, he had already “sold” the survivors once for the ten bottles of Blood Tears. But so what?

Chen Ye had no intention of keeping his face. Honor didn’t stop a bullet.

His left eye was failing. As his power grew, his vision blurred. By the time he hit Sequence 2, he would likely be blind in that eye. The right eye would follow.

Blindness was death.

He needed that eye.