Chapter Sixty-Eight: In Search of the Car

After finishing his meal, Yang Fan decided to rest for a while. He took out his last pack of cigarettes, offered one to Gao Bin, then crossed his legs and leisurely puffed away. It was a long time before Wu Liang managed to regain his composure; he lay on the floor, afraid to get up or utter another word.

Yang Fan had left an indelible impression on him—a true demon king.

“Let me tell you this: if the army really comes and you try any tricks, I’ll make sure you don’t live to see another sunrise before they can protect you. You know what kind of people I am with. Just watch and see if the army chooses to look after us, or after someone like you, a low-ranked, utterly useless government official.”

Every word Yang Fan spoke was the truth. In his previous life, the military valued inheritors of the apocalypse system, but their attitude toward government officials was ambiguous. People like Wu Liang, without powerful backing, were no better than ordinary citizens. The only reason Yang Fan had helped him before was the possibility that he might be of use.

But this man was unbearably arrogant, selfish, and self-serving—a future source of trouble, most likely. If not for Gao Bin’s intervention, Yang Fan would have gladly tossed him outside to die. Now, Wu Liang slowly got up, his body no longer trembling so much, head bowed, unable to meet Yang Fan’s gaze—gone was his earlier pride.

Once everyone had rested enough, Yang Fan stood and said, “Check for anything useful and take it with you. We’re setting out for Clear Jade Lake; the army is stationed there.” With that, he and Gao Bin went to the rooms, gathering up all the quilts.

The weather here would only grow colder. Yang Fan feared no one, but that didn’t mean the others weren’t susceptible to the cold. They needed to be prepared. Gao Bin collected seven or eight thick, good-quality quilts, while Yang Fan scoured the opposite room for new toothpaste, toothbrushes, towels, and similar items, stuffing everything into a large bag and then into his backpack.

Before departure, Yang Fan placed Xiao Chen inside the Ladies’ Portrait. By now, there were ninety people within the Portrait: Liu Qiaoqiao, Bai Su, and five others eligible for training as War Goddesses or Support Goddesses. The Great Devouring Python had claimed a slot as well, leaving two remaining.

Xiao Chen, unsurprisingly, was qualified for training, so Yang Fan brought her into the Portrait. Now, he needed only nine more to form a hundred-strong squad of women. Among those nine, Bai Su and Fang Na were excellent candidates, but it would be somewhat wasteful to give them those slots.

Yang Fan resolved to find two qualified ordinary people for transformation. Then, with a hundred elite women, ten goddesses, the Great Devouring Python, the unexpected summoner Chen Ming, his own protégé Zhu Liang, plus Fang Na, Bai Su, and Zach—after surviving the insect disaster, he could establish a formidable base and truly root himself in the post-apocalyptic world.

For now, the goal was clear: stockpile food, find a powerful team, and prepare for the hardships ahead.

Once they had gathered what they needed, the group set out. Xiao Chen's disappearance puzzled them, but no one dared question Yang Fan, so they followed obediently. Wu Liang trailed behind with his head lowered, and Yang Fan ignored him. Gao Bin led the way as usual, with Yang Fan watching their flank.

When they reached the ground floor, the snow had piled up considerably—nearly halfway up their calves, about two centimeters deep. The group drew in sharp breaths as they gazed at the thick snowflakes still falling from the sky, wondering if the world would be buried. If that happened, they’d all perish, no matter what.

Understanding their concerns, Yang Fan exhaled a plume of white breath and said, “Relax. The snow will stop soon, but the air will get colder. The whole world will enter an ice age—this environment is meant to usher in even more terrifying creatures.”

Yang Fan’s reassurance eased their hearts, but his ominous warning left them anxious again. Gao Bin sidled up and asked, “Yang Fan, how do you know so much?”

“It’s all written in novels,” Yang Fan replied, unwilling to reveal his identity as a traveler from the future, and made a joke of it. Gao Bin grunted and immediately became hyper-alert, scanning their surroundings.

The neighborhood was eerily peaceful, but Yang Fan sensed many eyes upon them. People hid in the high-rise apartments, waiting for military rescue.

“Yang Fan, let’s check the underground parking lot for vehicles. If we find one, we’ll reach Clear Jade Lake much faster,” Gao Bin suddenly suggested.

“Alright, let’s go to the parking lot.” Yang Fan agreed; Gao Bin’s idea was sound. Judging by his clear thinking, there was a good chance they’d find a working vehicle. When the apocalypse erupted and zombies appeared, many tried to escape by car, only to be killed mid-drive. Keys remained in the vehicles, but their owners were gone.

Zombies only cared about living things, not cars, so the parking lot should have usable vehicles.

Guided by signs, they found the underground lot—dimly lit, but a few weak lamps provided some visibility. Gao Bin took out a flashlight he’d found in a drawer, clicked it on, and illuminated their path.

The two women hid behind Gao Bin, Wu Liang followed quietly, and Yang Fan kept a wary eye on their surroundings. The parking lot was vast, thousands of square meters, filled mostly with mid-range cars—SUVs worth four or five hundred thousand, Hondas, Toyotas, all locked tight without keys.

But the deeper they went, the better the cars got. Yang Fan wasn’t interested in Lamborghinis or Porsches, just a tough vehicle—a Hummer or a rugged SUV would do. Suddenly, several shadows crept forward, their guttural “roar, roar, roar” echoing through the silent lot.

They were ordinary zombies, level 3. Yang Fan handed them over to Gao Bin.

With bloodied spear in hand, Gao Bin, whose skill was Assault, boosted his speed by 150% and increased his damage by 30%. In a flash, he skewered a zombie, killing it instantly. Another zombie appeared, shuffling slowly. Gao Bin took a deep breath and charged—only to be met with a metallic clang that sent him staggering back several meters.

His face changed. “It’s a matriarch zombie!”

No sooner had he spoken than the matriarch lunged at him, speed doubled, claws outstretched, aiming to kill. It was cunning, pretending to be an ordinary zombie to trick them.

At that moment, Yang Fan sprang into action. His entire body was enveloped in a red aura, becoming a crimson blur as he rushed forward and sent the matriarch zombie flying ten meters. Its bones shattered, flesh ruptured, and it died instantly.

Gao Bin was stunned, tongue-tied at Yang Fan’s display of power. He’d never realized Yang Fan was so formidable—one blow had felled the matriarch.

The significance of a matriarch zombie was clear. Gao Bin’s gear was bronze-tier; it easily pierced ordinary zombies, but was barely sufficient against a matriarch. Unless one wielded aura, a matriarch could defeat ten ordinary zombies. In the apocalypse, one plus one was greater than two.

This matriarch, though not as fearsome as the berserker demon rat, was far beyond Gao Bin’s ability.

“Take this and finish it off. Quickly, don’t dawdle.”

After disposing of the matriarch, Yang Fan produced the Azir Greatsword, which had dropped from a silver-tier matriarch boss—a silver-grade weapon, perfect for Gao Bin. Yang Fan himself already had the Thunder Edge Blade and didn’t need other gear.

“A silver-tier weapon!” Gao Bin exclaimed, grabbing the sword from Yang Fan, grinning with gratitude. “Thanks, Yang Fan!”

“Enough, find a car,” Yang Fan snapped, cuffing him, then kept a close watch as they searched for a usable vehicle…

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