Chapter 88: Detained

Ever since Li Qiang finished off that pot of meat broth, he’d become insatiably greedy, always gathering a large group of his brothers to come before him and feign poverty. If it weren't for the fact that he still needed Li Qiang, Yang Fan would never have been willing to share the flesh of the berserk demon rats with him.

Moreover, the corpses of the berserk demon rats that Li Qiang had provided were completely rotten, utterly useless after having decayed for so long. So, Yang Fan took the opportunity to teach Li Qiang how to use his backpack, giving him a brief explanation of its uses. Li Qiang, quick to catch on, promptly posted this information to the forum and managed to earn a small sum from it.

But in truth, the value of forum posts had all but evaporated. The reason was simple: with so many inheritors of the apocalypse system around, it was like those TB stores in his previous life. Some people thought that knowing a few things would let them make a profit, but unknowingly, information was already being given away for free elsewhere.

What was being gained now was mere popularity, not real profit. Those with true foresight would never use this as a way to make money. When Yang Fan first started out, he only wanted enough to cover some basic expenses, and at that time, he had a near monopoly. But as time went on, resources became more and more scarce, and no one would be foolish enough to keep doing such distasteful things.

People would think, after all, that this was the apocalypse—survival was already hard enough. And yet, you still wanted to profit off precious survival coins or resource points? There were many classic examples: some people specialized in studying the apocalypse, posting for profit, but when their group later ran into danger and encountered other groups, instead of being rescued, they were pushed deeper into peril.

So in such grim times, anyone trying to speculate and profit would find themselves marked. If, later on, everything settled into rules and order, perhaps things would be different.

Right now, sitting in the vehicle, Yang Fan smoked a cigarette—one of those contraband Liqun brands Li Qiang had snagged—and gazed pensively out the window. Sometimes Yang Fan found this world utterly wretched; so many things happened for no reason at all. He pondered a profound question: was there truly a god in this world?

Was it God who controlled everything, who decided fate? If so, were those who were meant to die doomed, and those who weren't meant to perish, destined to survive no matter what? Life was full of uncertainty, and the question was so deep that Yang Fan simply couldn't puzzle out an answer.

Suddenly, at that moment, the vehicle came to a halt. The compartment rocked, and Yang Fan immediately stood up, frowning as he looked outside. Just as he was about to step out and see what had happened, a guard knocked at the door and called, “Mr. Yang Fan, Mr. Yang Fan.”

“What is it?” Yang Fan opened the door, and the guard hurriedly explained, “There’s too much snow outside. Everything’s blocked, and we’re stuck—we can’t move, Mr. Yang Fan. The commander asks that you come and take a look!”

He was speaking breathlessly, and Yang Fan nodded, following him over to where Li Qiang was.

Stepping down from the last car, a biting wind whipped at his clothes, making them snap and flutter. Though the heavy snow had stopped, the fierce gusts scattered the drifts everywhere, sending wave after wave of icy chill that cut to the bone. An ordinary person, exposed for even a short while, would likely feel their blood freeze and then die.

Yang Fan mentally tallied: those who had escaped from mutant beasts and zombies—if they hadn’t received military rescue, meaning they hadn’t made it into these railcars—their chance of survival was a terrifyingly low five percent. This cold was far beyond anything from his previous life.

Once the cold poison set in, even a system inheritor, unless they were truly powerful, would find the chill seeping into their bones and developing into a kind of cold toxin. At first, it might seem minor, but if not properly treated, it would later cause aches and agony beyond endurance.

Yang Fan recalled the pitiful state of an elderly apocalypse system inheritor he’d once seen.

All around his ears, only the howling wind could be heard. The guard was shivering behind him, moving slowly and gingerly, inch by inch. At this rate, it would take at least half an hour to reach the first carriage.

So Yang Fan simply grabbed him and, darting across the snow, ran with the speed of an arrow. What should have been a half-hour walk took Yang Fan only five minutes. In fact, he was only using a third of his strength—at his current level, he could cover the whole distance in half a minute if he wished.

But that would be too shocking, so Yang Fan hid most of his strength. Even so, in the guard’s eyes, Yang Fan was astoundingly strong. The man clicked his tongue in disbelief, and when they reached the first carriage, he still thought he must have been hallucinating.

Yang Fan didn’t care what the guard thought. Instead, he made his way to Li Qiang’s position. Twenty meters ahead of the first carriage, the wind and snow swirled so heavily that it was nearly impossible for an ordinary person to see anyone ahead—but who was Yang Fan? With thirty times the strength and acuity of an ordinary man, he could see clearly in the dark, let alone in mere wind and snow.

Yang Fan not only spotted Li Qiang and the others, but also saw—most importantly—a heap of snow at least seventeen or eighteen meters high, like a small mountain completely encased by the blizzard. The surrounding area was a stretch of snow-capped mounds, making it impossible for the vehicle to move forward; they’d have to turn back.

But with the mountains stretching endlessly here, turning around would be no easy task. This was already the eighteenth day of the apocalypse—two days from now, the Zerg would arrive, and then things would become truly dire.

“We can’t turn the vehicle around. It’ll take at least two or three days to manage it, and maybe even longer,” Li Qiang said directly when he saw Yang Fan approach.

“Two or three days? That’s not acceptable, absolutely not. We’ve already lost too much time on the road, and we’re still dozens of kilometers from the military base. If we drove straight, we’d reach it in a day at most. Is there any other way?” Yang Fan frowned, questioning Li Qiang.

“That’s right, the military base is less than a day away. But the road ahead is completely blocked. We have to turn back, and if nothing goes wrong, it’ll take two days. If anything does, maybe five, maybe ten!” Li Qiang replied.

“No.” Yang Fan flatly rejected Li Qiang’s words. Five days, ten days? That was a joke. In five or ten days, the Zerg would already have arrived and begun their ravenous slaughter, and it would all be over.

“So you tell me—what should we do?” Li Qiang wasn’t angry; he just felt Yang Fan was acting oddly. Why couldn’t they afford to delay? Was something about to happen?

Yang Fan thought for a moment, gazing at the endless mountains, then said, “Organize the people and take a headcount. Listen carefully: we are about to face a deadly danger—one that not all of us may survive. I can’t tell you too much, only that this threat is far more terrifying than mutant beasts.”

With that, Yang Fan turned and left. He couldn’t wait any longer—he had to bring Xiao Min, Xiao You, and Lin Ling into the portrait scroll, and then begin his preparations.

—

Time was running out. Danger was imminent!