Chapter Nineteen: Treasure Chest from the Heavens (1/5)

The Painting of Court Ladies could not accommodate items such as gas canisters; the artifact spirit explained that it could not store external technological artifacts, with the exception of food. This left Yang Fan rather frustrated as he stared at the pile, but at least his backpack had five slots, two of which were still empty and could be used for a set of pots and a set of spatulas—though here, a “set” merely meant a dozen or so random pieces.

Before leaving, Yang Fan made a particular point to gather a heap of seasonings—things that would be worth their weight in gold in the future, like salt and soy sauce. He spent about half an hour in the storage room before emerging. Zhu Liang was still skulking about, keeping a wary eye out for any sudden appearance of zombies, but fortunately, all was calm.

Sensing Yang Fan's return, Zhu Liang glanced over his shoulder, and the sight of Yang Fan’s empty hands brought him great relief. It seemed that all the food from the storage room had been secured, so at least they wouldn’t have to worry about provisions for a long time.

“Have some water, let’s get moving,” Yang Fan said, retrieving two bottles of mineral water from the Painting of Court Ladies and handing one to Zhu Liang. Zhu Liang twisted it open and drained it in one go, letting out a loud burp; he hadn’t had a drop to drink in almost a full day and night.

Being able to gulp down such a satisfying mouthful, Zhu Liang finally relaxed. Yang Fan then took out a few cucumbers—the storage space of the Painting of Court Ladies allowed him to retrieve or store items at will, responding to his thoughts.

The only edible vegetables they had were cucumbers, potatoes, and a few others, but the only one with moisture and enough substance to stave off hunger was the cucumber. Although it had certain connotations, no one had the mind for such thoughts at this moment.

Zhu Liang ate three in quick succession before he felt some semblance of satisfaction, his strength returning just a little. Yang Fan himself ate four.

“These things can’t fill our stomachs. Let’s check the convenience store—the canteen should have bread or something more filling,” Zhu Liang said, rubbing his belly after finishing the last cucumber.

“Agreed. The people upstairs are waiting for food; these vegetables won’t do them any good. Let’s go,” Yang Fan concurred. There was no way to get full on just these, so they had to find bread or instant noodles to stave off their hunger.

Yang Fan took the lead, handing the pots and spatulas to Zhu Liang and telling him to stay close. The two soon arrived at the canteen.

The school canteen was spacious, with a small convenience store in each corner. When Yang Fan and Zhu Liang arrived, they found the place had already been looted, the scene chaotic and stripped of almost everything.

Still, some bread and cold drinks remained. Yang Fan stored all the drinks in the Painting of Court Ladies.

At that moment, four or five zombies shambled in, two of them mother-types. Without a word, Yang Fan covered his axe in qi and, with a swift move, chopped the heads off two of the zombies. The two mother-types remained; Yang Fan brought his qi-infused axe crashing down from over a meter high.

A sickening crunch followed as the axe bit half an inch into the zombie’s skull but failed to kill it and was hard to withdraw. Yang Fan didn’t hesitate—he kicked the zombie aside and hammered its face with a barrage of Taiji punches, using the sharp iron bar nearby to finally pierce and destroy the mother-type’s head.

This zombie was level 4, and even such a level was difficult to kill, mainly due to its tough defenses. No matter how much strength one had, breaking through the defense depended on sharpness. To pierce a mother-type’s skin and flesh required a sharpness of at least 10. The axe had only 2, the qi added 5, making 7—barely enough to break the surface.

The sharp iron bar had 3 points of sharpness, and with enough force, it just managed to pierce the mother-type’s brain.

The other mother-type chased after Zhu Liang instead. It was even faster than Zhu Liang, but lacked intelligence. Zhu Liang darted around in circles, shouting for help.

Yang Fan rushed over and kicked the mother-type with a force of three or four hundred pounds, sending it flying ten meters away. He then grabbed Zhu Liang and ran.

At that moment, a voice echoed in everyone’s minds.

“Ha ha ha... The apocalypse has arrived. As the weakest species, I will grant you one chance at a lucky draw. The first batch of treasure chests will be scattered worldwide. You each have one chance to choose. Inside, you may find powerful weapons—or perhaps just a few apocalypse coins. It all depends on your luck, humans.”

The voice was cold and mocking, grating to the ear. Yang Fan, however, was surprised—he hadn’t realized a full day and night had passed.

Indeed, this was the anomaly: on the first day of the apocalypse, countless treasure chests would appear across the globe. Each human could open one chest only. The contents might be valuable, or just ordinary; this was the first batch, determined by the current number of survivors.

In his previous life, Yang Fan had opened a black iron chest and only gotten a weapon out of it.

Treasure chests were divided into nine levels: white, black iron, bronze, silver, gold, dark gold, purple gold, legendary, and epic. With the arrival of the first batch, there would be one epic chest, two legendary, five purple gold, ten dark gold, a hundred gold, ten thousand silver, a million silver, and a hundred million bronze. The white and black iron chests’ numbers were based on population.

White chests were very similar to silver ones, so in his previous life, many people mistook white chests for silver, only to end up with thirty or forty apocalypse coins—a miserable disappointment for many.

Now, as the chests descended, Yang Fan saw a heap of them on the sports field. But they were not tangible; one had to stand before a chest and affirm their choice to open it.

Most were white or black iron, with a few bronze and silver scattered among them. At a glance, silver was easily mistaken for white.

Gold chests were nowhere to be seen—after all, there were only one million in the world, scattered who knew where.

But Yang Fan remembered something. His mind raced as he recalled how in his previous life, Qin Ziwen had once mentioned in conversation with another group that near the school, someone had found a treasure chest at least gold in color, and after opening it, became famous overnight, leaving his peers far behind.

If that was true, then there would be a dark gold chest somewhere near the school—a prize beyond price, whose contents could be worth tens or even hundreds of thousands of apocalypse coins.

Yang Fan racked his brains, returning to the present. Time was short, and he’d almost forgotten, but now it came to him.

“115C, 115C, 115C.” Suddenly, Yang Fan remembered. Qin Ziwen had always mentioned “115C.” Yang Fan turned to Zhu Liang and asked, “What is 115C?”

“115C?” Zhu Liang frowned, pondered for a moment, then smacked his forehead. “Oh, right! 115C is a meeting room in the administration building.”

He pointed to a building to the north.

“Good, let’s go!” Yang Fan said, grabbing Zhu Liang and heading off.

“There are so many treasure chests here—maybe some are silver. Shouldn’t we open one?” Zhu Liang had also heard the voice and asked.

“There’s a better chest waiting for us,” Yang Fan replied, glancing at the academic building and silently praying they wouldn’t be too late. He gave Zhu Liang a brief explanation, and the latter’s face immediately lit up with excitement.

(No more drafts for now. Next chapter should be out around ten o’clock. Looking at the results, we’re currently ranked first among the six books with the same recommendation during this period. I’m very pleased, but there’s room for improvement. Our recommendation-to-click ratio is low—others are at 10:1 or 5:1, but we’re at 20:1; for every twenty clicks, there’s only one recommendation ticket. I don’t want others to laugh at us, so please, if you can, cast your recommendation tickets! The higher the number, the better the chest the protagonist will open in the next chapter. The more powerful the protagonist becomes, the stronger our novel, and we’ll gain the glory we deserve. Thanks to the leaderboard supporters—Reincarnation Brother, Flying Rabbit, and everyone else who’s supported today. I love you all!)