Apocalypse: I Can Upgrade Everything

Chapter 147: Xue Qing is Dead

Chen Ye remembered a scene from a TV drama. A medical student, trapped in an extreme situation, performing surgery with a box cutter.

It felt oddly prophetic now.

Dr. Luo held a fruit knife, his hands trembling slightly.

Chen Ye bit down on a piece of wood, his jaw aching as he crushed the fibers.

The surgery was brutal. No anesthesia. No sterile field. Just grit and desperation.

When the Abyssal Blood Eye was lifted from the jar of diluted Blood Tears, it reacted. The nerve bundles on the back of the eyeball writhed like red earthworms, seeking a host.

Xu Lina, acting as the nurse, dabbed sweat from Dr. Luo’s forehead. Her handkerchief was already soaked.

Chen Ye was drenched in cold sweat, his clothes plastered to his skin.

When the Blood Eye was pressed into his empty socket, he screamed into the wood. He could feel the alien nerves burrowing into his skull, connecting with his own optic nerve. It was a sensation of profound violation.

Xu Lina gagged and ran out of the room to vomit. Even Iron Lion looked green.

The surgery lasted five hours.

When Dr. Luo finished the final suture, he collapsed onto the floor, exhausted.

“Thank you… Dr. Luo,” Chen Ye rasped, spitting out the splintered wood.

Dr. Luo stared at him. Is this a Sequence Beyonder? He’s not human. No human could endure that awake.

Iron Lion handed Dr. Luo the promised gasoline. The doctor took it and fled with his wife, casting one last fearful look at the monster on the table.

“Yezi… you okay?” Iron Lion asked.

“I’m alive,” Chen Ye whispered. “Water.”

Xu Lina returned, pale but determined. She helped Chen Ye change into dry clothes, eager to cement her position as his favorite.

But her window of opportunity was short.

Chen Ye downed a vial of Purified Blood Tears. The healing factor kicked in, knitting the flesh around his eye with supernatural speed.

He dismissed Xu Lina.

Alone, he began the integration process. Using his Qi, he stimulated the Blood Eye, forcing it to sync with his body. It was dangerous work—the eye still contained the chaotic energy of the Anomaly.

By late night, it was done.

Chen Ye opened his eyes.

For the first time in months, his left eye could see.

His original eye had been milky and blind. This new one was blood-red, with a pupil that seemed to spin if you looked at it too long. It radiated a terrifying, predatory aura.

His vision was sharper than ever.

The recovery was faster than expected, thanks to the upgraded Blood Tears.

He went to the roof to cultivate.

Ding Dong was there. She glanced at him, noting the sunglasses he was now wearing at night.

“You…?”

“It’s a style choice,” Chen Ye said flatly. “Don’t be a peasant.”

Ding Dong: “…”

One Day Later.

Chen Ye sat at a desk, staring at a pack of tissues.

He focused.

Fwoosh.

The tissues burst into flames.

[Pyrokinesis]. It was the same ability the Blood Eye had used against the Death God.

It was weak compared to the original—a lighter compared to a flamethrower—but it worked. And it cost him: a trickle of blood ran down his cheek from the eye socket.

The school was buzzing with a strange, manic energy.

The Grand Ritual was tomorrow—New Year’s Eve, 2030.

The apocalypse had made people forget holidays, but Wu Jianshan was bringing them back. He promised a feast. Meat, wine, and Holy Water.

But outside, the situation was grim.

The siege was tightening. At night, the school was surrounded by a sea of glowing eyes. During the day, the Eight-Limbed Human Face watched from the rooftops, and white Crawlers scuttled in the alleys.

The Anomalies were adapting to the sunlight.

Yet, inside the school, the survivors were calm. They had adapted, too—to the confinement, to the cult, to the fear.

But not everyone was content.

Choi Soo-eun, the Korean idol, was desperate. She had tried to contact Chen Ye and Chu Che again, but they had ignored her.

She found Xue Nan in the hallway, peering through a crack in the barricade at the monsters outside.

“Xue Nan!” she hissed.

Xue Nan turned. He recognized her—the foreign woman from the cult.

“Miss Choi?”

She looked around nervously, then pulled a black notebook from her robe. It was old, with dark, rusty stains on the cover. Dried blood.

“Take this,” she whispered urgently. “Give it to Mr. Chu and Mr. Chen. You must!”

She shoved the book into his hands and hurried away.

Xue Nan hid the book and walked casually toward the stairs.

“Hey, Xue Nan!”

A survivor stopped him. It was a man from the convoy, now a convert awaiting his robes.

“Where you going?”

“To see Mr. Chen.”

The man sneered. “You should tell Chen and Chu to join us. Everyone else has. Why are they holding out? We have food, safety… once the Death God clears the filth outside, we’ll live like kings.”

Slap!

Xue Nan backhanded the man, knocking him to the floor. He stomped on the man’s chest, his face twisting into a snarl.

“Who are you to talk about them? Without them, you’d be dead in a ditch!”

“Xue Nan… you…”

“One more word,” Xue Nan threatened, “and I’ll tell Mr. Chen what you said. See how he ‘arranges’ you.”

The man went pale and shut his mouth.

Xue Nan spat on him and walked away.

The survivors watched in silence. They whispered that Xue Nan was becoming more like Chen Ye every day—ruthless, cold, dangerous.

Xue Nan didn’t care. Fear was a tool.

He reached Class 3, Grade 4.

“Mr. Chen, Captain Chu. Choi Soo-eun sent this.”

He handed over the notebook.

Chen Ye, wearing his sunglasses, and Chu Che sat by a candle. They dismissed Xue Nan and opened the book.

It was a diary.

[October 17, 2030. Weather: Heavy Snow.]

They read the first line.

[Xue Qing is dead!]

Both men froze.