Ding—

The familiar synthetic chime rang.

[Daily points settlement initiated.]

[Settling now…]

[Base points today: 24.]

[Survival assessment today: Stockpiling (survival prep): 61.]

[Settlement complete. Current survival points balance: 130.]

“One thirty.” Chen Yun read the number in his head. “I stocked a lot today, and I filled the fuel plan, so the survival-prep score is way higher than yesterday.”

“But there’s no change in physique, so no points from a physical breakthrough today.”

“Physical improvements also grant points, but the gene serum is a one-off. I’ll have to find other ways to boost my body.”

He rested his left hand on his right arm and brought up the system panel, selecting Enhance.

The system gave no response.

“So the system can’t directly augment my body.” He’d suspected as much, but still felt a pang of disappointment.

Suppressing thoughts of personal enhancement, Chen Yun checked the floating display. The small line of text at the top scrolled relentlessly:

[Extreme-cold apocalypse countdown: 12 days 23 hours 50 minutes 14 seconds.]

“The end is getting closer.” Only a day and a half had passed since he’d bound to the system, but an urgent pressure sat heavy on his chest.

He took a long breath and pushed the feeling down.

“There’s nothing to do now but sleep.” He thought of the long day ahead and trudged into the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed.

A dreamless night.

At six in the morning Chen Yun opened his eyes. The fatigue from the previous day’s running around was gone. He got up, dressed and washed.

In the mirror a younger, slightly attractive face looked back at him. “I look a little younger. Skin’s better too.” He pulled at the corner of his mouth and smiled.

“The gene-strengthening serum’s effect is impressive—if only I had a source for more.”

With a sigh he put on his jacket and headed out for today’s stockpiling tasks.

Like yesterday, he grabbed breakfast downstairs and drove straight to the warehouse. Today’s priorities were receiving deliveries and buying weapons.

The items ordered from the wholesale market and the online purchases from the day before were scheduled to arrive at the suburban warehouse today. Aside from weapons and a few medicines that couldn’t be bought in bulk, the system-required basic supplies were now essentially ordered. The building materials that weren’t part of the mission would also arrive today.

He pulled up the system tasks and read the mission entry:

[Mission: Accumulate basic supplies to support a single adult male’s survival for ten years. (Basic supplies include food, water, medicine, energy, tools, etc.)]

[Time remaining: 82 hours.]

“There’s time, but cash is getting tight—would have liked to buy more.” Chen Yun muttered.

He spent almost the entire day at the warehouse. Shipments arrived in batches and he, alongside a few hired loaders who rode with the trucks, unloaded them. Between deliveries, when a truck left and the next one hadn’t yet arrived, he drove his small truck into the warehouse, shut the door and stored the cargo into system space.

Unload, watch the driver leave, close the warehouse door, store the goods, drive back out—over and over. Even with his now-superior physical condition, it wore on him.

At four in the afternoon, after the building materials truck left, he shut the warehouse and looked at the mountains of sand, cement and other materials stacked inside. He exhaled a long, satisfied breath.

This was the last batch. It was finally done.

He sent the materials into system space, rested briefly, then drove off again—this time to a sporting goods mall on the west side of town.

He bought four heavy-pound compound bows, four traditional bows, and four recurve bows, with 400 arrows for each type and ten spare bowstrings. He also bought two hard aluminum baseball bats, two composite bats and two wooden bats—no baseballs. From a neighboring outdoor store he picked up entrenching tools, climbing ropes and the like.

He then drove more than twenty miles across town to a well-reviewed cold-weapons shop. The place gleamed with metal. Chen Yun approached the counter and told the bald man behind it, “Show me every sword, spear, polearm and axe you got.”

The owner stood, blinked and asked, “What kind? Expensive or cheap? Do you want them sharpened?”

Chen Yun thought a moment. “I’ll take one Han sword, one Tang dao, one niuwei blade, one swallow-feather sword; two horse lances, two spears, two war hammers; and three short blades and short swords. Practical, reasonably priced—unsharpened.”

The owner gave the request a puzzled look—unusual orders came with unusual looks—but business is business. He brought out a few crates. “Here. These are solid. Four hundred a sword, spears and polearms seven hundred a set.”

Chen Yun hefted the pieces. The cold weight and balance satisfied him. “Okay. Add a few white waxwood staves.”

He paid, loaded the heavy weapons into his truck and felt a childish pleasure in seeing the cold steel before him. Whether he’d ever need them or not, buying them scratched the old wuxia itch he’d carried since youth.

On the way back through an off-peak stretch of traffic, a narrow storefront with a faded sign—“Ink & Scent Bookshop”—caught his eye. On impulse he turned the wheel and parked.

“The last time I browsed a bookstore was high school. If the end’s coming, I might not get another chance.” He pushed through the heavy glass door and was hit by the dry, papery smell of old books.

The shop was dim and cramped, shelves stuffed with old volumes. An elderly woman with reading glasses sat behind the counter, absorbed in a yellowed book. Chen Yun drifted through the stacks, fingers along the spines—history, literature, old manuals—mostly junk. Just as he prepared to leave, a line of print in a messy corner pile caught his eye.

Barefoot Doctor’s Manual.

He pulled the book free. The cover was dusty, the pages browned. At the counter he asked, “Do you have Militia Training Manual or Military-Civilian Talent Guide?”

The shopkeeper slowly pushed up her glasses and squinted at him and the book. “Oh… maybe. Wait here.”

She shuffled to that corner, pawed through the stack, and came back with two more tattered books.

“These three are all I’ve got. Take them together—twenty kuai.” She stacked them.

“Deal.” Chen Yun paid and left.

Back at the warehouse he unloaded the weapons and tools into system space.

Ding—

The synthetic chime sounded in his mind again.

[Host has completed mission: Supply stockpiling (basic survival).]

[Mission settlement in progress…]

[Completion assessment: A (variety complete, quantities meet requirements, collection time short).]

[Mission reward granted: 1,500 points.]

[Survival item — choose one of four.]

The system panel presented four options:

- [Entry-level thermal cold suit]: Protects against temperatures down to -80°C.

- [Space expansion voucher]: Expand system storage capacity.

- [Basic medical first-aid kit]: Contains special hemostatic powder, advanced antibiotics, etc.

- [Portable water purifier]: High-efficiency filter and UV sterilizer; can quickly render snow or dirty water drinkable. Filter replacement available by spending points.

Chen Yun stared at the four options, thinking it over.

Which one should he choose?