Apocalypse: I Can Upgrade Everything

Chapter 160: Monster Pickup

His greatest harvest from the chaotic escape consisted of a massive influx of Slaughter Points and the violently squirming octopus tentacle currently sitting in the passenger seat.

Even now, severed from its host, the thick appendage possessed a horrifying level of vitality. When Chen Ye reached out to inspect it, the wet, fleshy suckers instantly flared, generating a powerful vacuum that aggressively tried to latch onto his palm.

It was utterly absurd. Even without running a formal appraisal, the sheer, skin-crawling aura radiating from the severed limb confirmed that this was no ordinary Artifact material.

Still, Chen Ye couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret. When the Death God had gone on her rampage, the Snow Woman had dropped a pristine, transparent crystal, and the Wolf-Headed Anomaly had left behind a glowing, blood-red fang. The frantic nature of his escape simply hadn’t allowed him the time to scavenge them.

If he was being completely honest, the item he coveted most was the blood-red scythe wielded by the Death God herself.

The Eight-Limbed Human Face, the Wolf-Headed Anomaly, and the Snow Woman—any single one of those apex entities could have effortlessly wiped out their entire convoy. Yet, under the blade of that scythe, they had been diced up as easily as vegetables on a cutting board.

His second major harvest was his Slaughter Points.

He had completely drained his reserves to force his breakthrough to Sequence 2. Because he had spent the majority of the siege hanging back in the shadows, his combat earnings were relatively low.

However, landing the killing blow on Wu Jianshan—a Sequence 3 God-Worshipper—had yielded a massive payout. Combined with the points earned from running over a small army of Crawlers during the breakout, and the hefty bonus from smashing his Doomsday Pickup into Ding Dong, his balance was looking healthy again.

His current total sat just over 43,000 Slaughter Points.

Forty-three thousand wasn’t a world-breaking amount, but it was a solid start. The Abyssal Blood Eye and the Eight-Limbed Human Face were both classified as the apex Anomalies of Rong City’s Changwang District. Logically, the value of this severed tentacle should rival the eyeball he had extracted earlier.

“System, appraise,” Chen Ye commanded.

[Appraisal fee requires 3,000 Slaughter Points. Does the Host confirm payment?]

Three thousand? Chen Ye blinked, genuinely stunned. Why was it so expensive?

A second later, a thrill of excitement washed over him. An exorbitant appraisal fee meant the system recognized the tentacle as a top-tier item. Gritting his teeth, he confirmed the payment.

The system quickly generated the data.

[Item Name: Tentacle of the Eight-Limbed Human Face]

[Origin: Severed from the Eight-Limbed Human Face, one of the three apex Anomalies of Rong City’s Changwang District. It possesses terrifying vitality and retains a fraction of the entity’s innate supernatural abilities.]

[Suggestion: If forged by a compatible craftsman, it will yield an Artifact ranked within the top 1,000 globally. Note: It will not be at the bottom of that bracket.]

[Warning: The higher an Artifact’s ranking, the more devastating and unacceptable its side effects will be!]

[Comment: If this tentacle is used to upgrade the Doomsday Pickup, the vehicle will advance into the top 1,000 rankings. It is highly likely to evolve into a “Monster Pickup,” perfectly bypassing all negative side effects!]

[As for why there are no side effects? Because you are Chen Ye!!!]

Reading the final line of the glowing blue text, the red light of the Abyssal Blood Eye hidden behind his sunglasses flared brightly.

Those 3,000 Slaughter Points were worth every single penny.

The final comment was the clincher. When he had previously appraised the Abyssal Blood Eye, the system had warned: “If someone attempts to use it to replace a failing left eye, extreme caution is required!” That comment had confirmed the viability of an eye transplant.

Now, the system was explicitly handing him a mapped-out upgrade path for his vehicle.

He had no idea what a “Monster Pickup” was, but a globally ranked top-1,000 Artifact with zero side effects? You could offer Chen Ye a top-100 Artifact in exchange, and he would spit in your face.

In the apocalyptic wasteland, power always came with a crippling price. The higher the rank, the steeper the toll. Yet, the Doomsday Pickup had never possessed a side effect, and even after this massive evolutionary leap, it would remain perfectly safe to use.

This truck was no longer just a mode of transportation. It was a weapon of mass destruction.

“System, how many Slaughter Points are required to upgrade to the Monster Pickup?” Chen Ye asked, bracing himself.

He knew it was going to be astronomically high—top-1,000 rankings didn’t come cheap—but he needed the exact number.

[To upgrade to the Monster Pickup, the Host must pay 200,000 Slaughter Points. Confirm payment?]

Chen Ye stared at the prompt in silence.

Son of a…

He knew it would be expensive, but two hundred thousand was a pipe dream. Wait a minute. Previously, utilizing the Abyssal Blood Eye had required 500,000 Slaughter Points. The Monster Pickup would outrank the eye, so why was the upgrade 300,000 points cheaper?

He voiced the question aloud.

[The Abyssal Blood Eye integration was a custom biological procedure designed to replace the Host’s eye while maximizing the Artifact’s abilities. The System was forced to manually optimize the integration to completely neutralize the severe side effects, incurring higher costs.]

[Upgrading to the Monster Pickup is a conventional mechanical enhancement. The absence of side effects is an inherited, natural trait of the Doomsday Pickup itself. It does not require the System to expend extra energy for optimization.]

That made sense. Still, 200,000 Slaughter Points was an impossible sum right now. With a heavy sigh, Chen Ye tossed the writhing tentacle into a secure storage box in the back seat.

Next, he pulled out a folded square of leathery red hide.

The Skin-Peeler Ghost’s Scalp.

He had been carrying this morbid trophy for quite a while. Its initial appraisal had only cost 100 Slaughter Points, and the system had evaluated it as material capable of forging an Artifact ranked within the top 2,000.

According to the system’s strict parameters, anything that breached the top 2,000 was classified as a “precious” material. For the appraisal to be so cheap, the resulting Artifact would likely sit right on the absolute bottom edge of the 2,000 threshold.

Previously, using the scalp to upgrade his Heavy Machete had required 30,000 Slaughter Points and 86 hours of processing time.

Back then, he had been broke. Now, he had the capital.

Chen Ye unclipped the Blood Resentment Machete from his belt and laid it next to the red scalp. Compared to the Death God’s devastating scythe, his machete was practically a butter knife, but it was what he had.

He pulled up the weapon’s stats and frowned. Wait.

The Blood Resentment Machete’s ranking was previously 4,880. Now, the system displayed it as 4,903.

It had plummeted down the global leaderboard.

Damn, Chen Ye cursed internally. Chu Che had mentioned that Artifact rankings were dynamic, actively shifting as new, more powerful items were birthed into the apocalypse. But Chen Ye hadn’t expected the power creep to be this rapid. Dozens of superior Artifacts had been created in just the last few weeks.

While the Blood Resentment Machete possessed the unique trait of absorbing ambient resentment to slowly climb the ranks, the process was agonizingly slow, rendering it somewhat useless in the short term. Besides, Chen Ye wasn’t a berserker; he had no desire to actively hunt down terrifying Anomalies every day just to grind his weapon’s stats. If he had his way, he would never draw the blade again and live a long, comfortable life in a fortified bunker.

With a resigned sigh, Chen Ye confirmed the upgrade.

His hard-earned balance instantly plummeted from 43,000 down to 10,000 Slaughter Points.

Still not enough to buy an air conditioner for the truck, he lamented, shivering slightly. The only comfort was the glowing holographic timer of 86 hours that appeared over the now-fusing machete and scalp.

Suddenly, a faint, unnatural sound broke the dead silence of the misty wasteland.

Chen Ye’s head snapped up. He stared into the impenetrable gray fog. He couldn’t see a thing. Over by the wall, the surviving cultist was still loudly snapping branches, completely oblivious.

But Chen Ye knew he hadn’t imagined it.

Could it be…? Did Chu Che track me down already?