Apocalyptic Charity Plan [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 5

After Xie Yunqing and his squad landed, they were met with extreme cold, with temperatures plunging to minus 50 or 60 degrees Celsius and a landscape covered in silver frost. They had no time to celebrate their survival; their summer combat uniforms were useless against the bone-chilling cold.

“Change into your winter combat uniforms immediately,” Xie Yunqing ordered decisively. Within seconds, all four members had pulled the winter gear from their military backpacks. Once dressed, they finally stabilized their body temperatures, narrowly avoiding death by hypothermia. Within moments, however, the glass on their tactical helmets was coated in ice, obscuring their vision.

Upon checking his gear, Xie Yunqing realized that all their firearms, including their assault rifles, had disappeared. He immediately understood that this world repelled modern thermal weapons.

Lin Zihan, the team’s sniper, let out a cry of despair: “My rifle!” To a sniper, losing their rifle was like losing their soul.

Before the team could dwell on the loss, Xie Yunqing assessed their surroundings. Finding no immediate danger, he cut off Lin Zihan’s mourning. “Enough. Build a shelter first.” He had glanced at a portable meteorological sensor inside his helmet, which indicated an outside temperature of minus 60 degrees Celsius. The cold was pervasive; they could not afford to stay out in the open for long.

“Yes, sir,” the team replied.

They retrieved their single-person field tents from their packs, designed to withstand temperatures down to minus 40 degrees. Within five minutes, the tents were up. Xie Yunqing knew that even with the gear, they could not survive long in such harsh conditions without additional heat. “Zhang Zhiyuan, stay behind to establish a communication link. The rest of you, come with me to gather firewood.”

“Yes, sir!”

Xie Yunqing kicked through the thick, white snow to gather branches. The area was a sparse forest with few fallen limbs. He was about to move toward the frozen trees to chop for wood when he heard Zhou Peng call out, his voice trembling with horror: “Captain, we have a situation!”

Xie Yunqing and Lin Zihan rushed over. All three stood in silence, staring at the corpses huddled together beneath the thick snow. Their expressions were calm, devoid of pain, but they were frozen into a tangled mass. Had Zhou Peng not kicked away the snow, they might never have been found.

“This world is terrifying,” Zhou Peng murmured. Lin Zihan nodded in somber agreement. They had expected an uninhabited wasteland, but this was clearly a place once trodden by humans and likely held many more such tragedies beneath the snow.

“Stop looking,” Xie Yunqing commanded, shifting his focus back to their survival. “Back to work.”

Ten minutes later, back at camp, fires were lit inside the tents, providing the first warmth they had felt since arriving. After a brief rest, they resumed their exploration. Within a few kilometers, they discovered a small wooden cabin, likely a ranger’s station. Using the infrared thermal imager on their tactical helmets, they detected several heat sources inside. The figures were motionless, even when Xie Yunqing intentionally made noise.

“Enter,” Xie Yunqing ordered.

They burst inside to find three people huddled together under a blanket beside a dead fire. Their faces were pale and blue; they were on the verge of death from hypothermia. The squad immediately sprang into action. They built a fire, warmed blankets, and carefully moved the victims, gradually warming their bodies. Zhou Peng administered intravenous glucose after thawing the bags by the fire.

Twenty minutes later, the three survivors regained consciousness. Overwhelmed with gratitude, they recounted their story: a month ago, the climate had split the world into a fire and ice scenario, with one side suffering extreme drought and the other extreme freezing. When the authorities reacted, they built shelters, and these three were survivors sent out to locate others, only to be trapped by fuel shortages and a sudden blizzard.

Xie Yunqing informed them that there were no other survivors in the immediate area. The survivors fell into a heavy silence, realizing that their delay had cost others their lives. They had no time to mourn, however; there were countless others still to save. They invited Xie Yunqing’s squad to their shelter, and the squad accepted. After reclaiming their buried vehicle, the seven of them set off.

Meanwhile, thanks to his chloroplast cheat, Jiang Fanxing had easily escaped Li Dazao’s gang. After running for twenty minutes, he was only slightly out of breath. Hiding in the shadows, he watched the men cursing and stumbling back toward the village, and he decided to tail them.

Li Dazao was sweaty, his clothes damp and sticky, and he was livid. “Damn it! One day I will end that freak! I will not stop until I have played him to death!” His henchmen chimed in, though they were secretly terrified. They had initially called the green-skinned monster a spirit to placate Li Dazao, but deep down, they were now starting to believe it. No human could run for half an hour in this heat without sweating a single drop.

Jiang Fanxing, hidden in the shadows, listened to their foul language. He felt no anger, only a chilling, murderous resolve. The words of the dead are not worth keeping in my heart.

Li Dazao and his men arrived at their small villa, exhausted. Jiang Fanxing noted the lack of security cameras and approached the villa openly to memorize the layout before retreating. To ensure his plan would be flawless, he first returned to the cellar to feed the child. Li Zhenyang was awake, his small eyes trying to pierce the darkness to see his savior. Jiang Fanxing promised to bring more food that night.

Returning to the village, Jiang Fanxing searched several houses until he found what he needed in a two-story flat: a small shed filled with coal, alongside tools like a hand-cranked grinder, buckets, sacks, and a hammer. He spent the afternoon working, grinding the coal into a fine, black dust.

By nightfall, the temperature had dropped significantly, bringing a welcome coolness. Jiang Fanxing returned to the villa with his tools. He set up a ladder, climbed onto the roof, and hoisted his bucket and sack of coal dust.

Crack!

He smashed the central living room window with a hammer.

“Who is there? Are you looking for death?”

Jiang Fanxing narrowed his eyes and dumped the bucket of coal dust into the opening, followed by the sack. The fine dust filled the dark living room like a black fog.

“Damn it, what is this stuff? It is choking me!” Li Hu’s voice roared from inside.

Seeing lights flicker on inside, Jiang Fanxing scrambled down the roof and hid by the main entrance. Inside, Li Hu flickered his flashlight, illuminating the thick cloud of black particles. “It must be those dying pieces of trash! Zhao San, come with me and kill them!”

Jiang Fanxing pulled an object from his pocket. Finally.

As Li Hu and his men opened the door, coughing and fumbling with their flashlights, a small, glowing object flew over their heads and into the villa.

Li Hu: “?”

Before they could react, Jiang Fanxing bolted. A split second later, a deafening explosion ripped through the air. A massive heatwave threw Li Hu into the air, followed by agonizing pain, and then, darkness.