Chapter Seventy-Five: Reflections

In the southern region of NC, heavy troops were stationed there. As long as the insect swarm hadn’t arrived, the area could function normally. It was an important passage for transporting civilians into Chenbei City. However, it was over a hundred kilometers away. In this heavy snowfall, it would take at least two or three days to reach it.

Along the way, the group witnessed countless tragedies, so many that by the end, they had become almost numb to it.

Suddenly, with a sharp “crack,” their moving vehicle came to an abrupt halt. Everyone inside was startled. Wang Cheng looked at Fu Gaobin and asked, “Brother Fu, what happened?”

Fu Gaobin had no idea either. Yang Fan was the first to get out and take a quick look. But he didn’t know much about cars, so they could only wait for Fu Gaobin, Wu Liang, and Wang Cheng to get out and check. Fu Gaobin, the only one with some knowledge, concluded that the car had broken down. Without any repair tools, there was nothing they could do—it was useless now.

It was a disheartening predicament. The group circled the car several times, sighed, shook their heads, and finally gave up in helplessness.

“What should we do?” Fu Gaobin asked Yang Fan. The car had broken down and there was no way they could just stay here. If it were before the apocalypse, they’d just call for a tow truck. But now, with no communication and no rescue possible, what could they do?

Standing outside, Yang Fan breathed in the cold, fresh air as the snowy wind stung his face. After a moment’s thought, he said, “There are plenty of smart people in this world. By now, some must know the bridge at Lake Clarity has collapsed, so they’ll inevitably come this way. Let’s wait here—maybe we’ll run into someone else. When that happens, we can either take by force or offer them our gasoline in exchange for a ride to the southern region.”

It was a plan he thought up on the spot. Everyone nodded, with Wang Cheng even flattering him, “Brother Yang Fan, you’re brilliant, as always.”

Fu Gaobin shot him a disdainful look before shivering back inside the car. Yang Fan remained outside—thanks to his body’s abilities, thirty times stronger than the average person, the cold couldn’t force him inside. Wang Cheng, eager to show his resolve, stayed outside with him. Initially, Yang Fan meant for him to go in, but then decided to let him keep him company.

As for Fu Gaobin, his main reason for going inside wasn’t to stay warm. He promptly shooed Wu Liang to the front seat, and then, well, it didn’t need to be said. Of course, he wasn’t going to do anything outrageous just yet, but a little flirting was inevitable.

Yang Fan and Wang Cheng cursed at him with genuine disdain, then waited in the darkness for a passing vehicle. About half an hour later, Yang Fan wanted a cigarette, but found his pockets empty. To his delight, Wang Cheng produced a full pack of Yellow Crane Tower cigarettes—quite the luxury for a student—and handed it to Yang Fan, then took out his own opened pack. “Here, Brother Yang Fan, have one.”

Wang Cheng, a second-generation rich kid raised in a business family, had always been more mature than his peers. He’d noticed Yang Fan searching his pockets and recalled that Yang Fan had given him cigarettes before, so he put two and two together. Offering the cigarettes pleased Yang Fan.

After all, the night was long. Should he summon a beauty from the Scroll of Ladies to while away the time? Well… that was probably something Fu Gaobin would do. Yang Fan dismissed the thought.

They smoked under the swirling snow, the cigarettes burning quickly in the cold wind, both standing with their backs to the gusts. Yang Fan’s True Eagle Eye surveyed the world from above. Once he spotted a target, he’d decide—attack, or join forces. There was no third option.

“Brother Yang Fan, how do you think the zombies and all these monsters appeared?” Wang Cheng suddenly asked, smoking as he pondered it. The emergence of the zombies had taken away people he knew—both friends and foes—turning them into the walking dead.

As for the mutant beasts, they’d forced him to watch his brothers devoured alive, making him painfully aware of the apocalypse’s danger and brutality.

“Zombies… mutant beasts…” Yang Fan echoed softly. He didn’t know where these things had come from, but since they had appeared, there must be a reason. Perhaps it was a test for humanity, or perhaps it was a milestone in human evolution. Everything had two sides: much death, but some gained the chance to grow stronger.

Such was the apocalypse—a world of despair and sorrow, but also of opportunity. Here, everything would be reshuffled. It was impossible to say if it was good or bad; everything in this world was relative.

As for the source of it all, Yang Fan could only give a mysterious answer: “Maybe it’s the work of gods.”

“Gods… If there really are gods, why would they torment us like this?”

“Gods are above everything, trampling on all beneath them, treating us as playthings,” Yang Fan muttered. Then, two words rose up in his mind: The Imperial Court. The Imperial Court, reigning above the gods themselves. For a moment, his mind clouded, unsure why he thought of that. He paused, then forced himself to forget the phrase for now.

He shook his head and began to plan for the future: find the remaining two markers, use apocalypse coins to purchase another, and then train a team of eleven, including the Giant Devouring Python, to the highest standard. He would wait for them to emerge from the Scroll of Ladies, while Zhu Liang, Chen Ming, Wang Cheng, and Fu Gaobin would also be given special attention. As for the people saved earlier by Chen Ming and Zhu Liang, they’d be trained as elite personnel.

With Liu Qiaoqiao’s help, he could save a large sum of apocalypse coins. If he could find a few more of his brothers, that would be even better. In this way, the elite group of 110 from the Scroll of Ladies would include Bai Su, Liu Qiaoqiao, three others whose names he didn’t know, Fang Na, and Bai Chen—making eight, not counting the Giant Devouring Python, a pet beast.

As for Bai Su… Yang Fan didn’t quite know what to make of her.

Then, with himself, Zhu Liang, Chen Ming, Wang Cheng, and Fu Gaobin, the team would total 114 people. In this apocalypse, after constant tempering, perhaps most of them could survive…

That was Yang Fan’s hope.

(Thanks to Xingfeng Xiaoye, Wuliaode Jizai, ffjj, Book Friend 1310082, and others for the rewards. Tomorrow, three more updates—please recommend and add to your collections!)