Apocalyptic Charity Plan [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 7

Jiang Fanxing understood the plight of these people perfectly well. If you want a horse to run, you have to feed it; otherwise, no one would be willing to work. However, since the source of the water was him, the labor had to come from them. Even if the exchange coins he ultimately received were meager, he did not mind. They were all adults; whether or not they chose to seize this opportunity to survive was entirely up to them.

After delivering his ultimatum, he said nothing more. He gave the group a calm, steady look and turned to leave.

The crowd, who had been hesitant, suddenly panicked. Regardless of whether they wanted to cooperate, only one thought filled their minds: they could not let this man leave. They needed water. Even if they were to die immediately after drinking, they had to have a sip before the end.

Many tried to struggle to their feet to chase after him, but in the end, they could only flop helplessly on the ground, unable to stand. The group fell back into despair. They were too drained to cry or scream, left only to stare blankly at the horizon, their minds numb and hollow.

It was not that Jiang Fanxing had changed his mind; he simply needed to find containers to serve the water. Just as the group thought he had abandoned them, they saw him returning with a large stack of ceramic bowls. In that instant, many of them felt their eyes well up with tears.

Jiang Fanxing told them, “Whoever wants to dig for groundwater, come and drink.”

Seeing nearly everyone struggling to get up, he issued a stern warning: “Once you drink my water, you must go and dig. If anyone refuses to work, you will have to compensate me for the water.”

He gave a cold snort and continued, “Do you know how you will compensate me?” Seeing their blank stares, he dropped a chilling remark: “I will personally cut open the wrists of those who disobey and let you pay me back with your own blood.”

He had spoken calmly, yet his words carried immense pressure. Looking into Jiang Fanxing’s serious eyes, they realized in terror that this strange man was not bluffing; he was truly capable of cutting their wrists.

For a moment, many hesitated again, but they could not overcome their desperate craving for water. If they were not on the brink of death, who would willingly give up their life?

“I am willing!” one person roared, struggling to his feet and practically lunging toward Jiang Fanxing. Seeing this, the others who were still hesitant immediately hardened their resolve, and one by one, the rest expressed their consent.

Satisfied, Jiang Fanxing said, “One at a time. Each person gets one mouthful of water.”

The crowd did not know where he was producing the water from, but they trusted him implicitly. The long-awaited hope reignited their fighting spirit. One by one, they managed to stand and formed a line.

It was about 40 degrees Celsius in the morning, and the sun was not too intense yet, so the water evaporated slowly. Jiang Fanxing held a bowl in his left hand, suspended his right index finger over the center of the bowl, and activated his chloroplasts. Soon, the crowd watched in astonishment as crystal-clear water droplets appeared from his green-tinted fingertip. A few could not help but lean in.

Jiang Fanxing frowned, stepped back, and barked, “Do not crowd!”

Startled, the group quickly backed off and lined up properly, not daring to act out again. Once a thin layer of water collected in the bowl, Jiang Fanxing handed it to the person at the front. The people behind watched the first person drink as if they were losing their minds, swallowing hard and instinctively trying to push forward.

Seeing the group about to descend into chaos, Jiang Fanxing reached into the side pocket of his backpack, pulled out a small electric stun baton, and waved it at them as a warning: “Do not crowd. Stay in line!”

If he could not handle Li Dadao and his gang, he certainly could handle these weakened refugees. Looking at the sparking baton, the unruly crowd regained their order.

Afterward, Jiang Fanxing successfully fed water to all the refugees. Revitalized as if they had been reborn, the refugees felt a surge of energy. On this ordinary yet extraordinary morning, they followed Jiang Fanxing to the dried-up riverbed.

Jiang Fanxing pointed to a tree that looked long dead and said, “The groundwater is about seven meters down. I have prepared the tools for you. Get to work.”

With that, he pulled out a Swiss Army knife from his backpack, watching them with a relaxed demeanor, twirling the knife in one hand while clutching the stun baton in the other. Feeling the silent threat, the refugees, regardless of their inner thoughts, hurriedly picked up pickaxes and shovels from the ground and began to work.

Having been baked by the intense heat, the ground was incredibly hard. The refugees dug with great difficulty; they often had to swing their arms many times just to leave a shallow mark in the earth. Having only had a mouthful of water and still physically weak, they endured the hunger and the increasingly blinding sun. When they caught a glimpse of Jiang Fanxing idly playing with his knife on the sidelines, a sense of deep-seated resentment began to stir.

Why should they be the ones working while he just stood there? Why should someone like him be able to produce water and live comfortably, while they suffered endlessly? Why did he only give them one sip of water just to watch them perform like laborers?

In a place Jiang Fanxing could not see, malice began to fester.

As the sun grew hotter, Jiang Fanxing looked at the air distorting from the heat and then at the refugees who would stop to rest every few minutes. Finally, he stood up and said, “That is enough for now.”

Hearing this, the refugees could no longer hold on and collapsed to the ground, lying there as if they had stopped breathing. Frowning, Jiang Fanxing decided to give them a little incentive. “Go back to the tree. I will give you some more water.” He thought about the evaporation rate and added, “Do you know the people who lived in the small villa? They are dead. You can go to the villa or any other house to hide from the sun. Do not go back under that tree.”

If the first sentence brought them joy, the second left them in shock. “Really? Those animals are really dead?”

Seeing him nod, some refugees were ecstatic, while others were overwhelmed with grief. Jiang Fanxing noticed their reactions but remained silent, patiently waiting for them to compose themselves.

Ten minutes later, the heat was unbearable. Concerned they might pass out, he urged, “Get up. Find a shaded place, and I will give you the water.”

Prompted by his urging, the refugees helped each other stand and stumbled toward the village. Jiang Fanxing followed them at a distance until they all entered a farmhouse courtyard. Only then did he walk over. The bowls from the morning were left by the big tree at the edge of the village, too far away. He did not want to risk the harsh sun, so he said, “Go find your own bowls.”

The temptation of water was too great. Even though they were nearly drained of energy, they forced themselves to find bowls in the kitchen. However, there were only ten bowls and sixteen people. Seeing the six who could not find bowls looking like they were about to collapse, Jiang Fanxing said, “Do not worry. You can use them once the others are finished.”

After a brief calming session, the refugees lined up again. Because of the extreme heat, Jiang Fanxing urged them to drink their water as soon as they received it. Ten minutes later, everyone had finished. He told them, “At dusk, continue digging. I will provide water for you again tonight.”

With that, he turned and left, quickly returning to the mountain cellar.

Li Zhenyang heard the approaching footsteps and turned on his flashlight. His eyes were bright, and his condition seemed improved; at least he no longer looked like he was on the verge of death as he had the day before. Jiang Fanxing gave him a faint smile and asked, “Kid, do you have a secret base?”

He had searched everywhere and could not find a place suitable for hiding food and the child; those places were not even as good as the basement in the villa. If the risk of the basement being exposed were not so high, he would have just put the kid there, saving himself the trouble of hauling the food.

Li Zhenyang blinked and said, “Brother, there is a secret passage in the cowshed at my house. No one else knows about it.”

Everyone who knew was dead.

Thinking of this, Li Zhenyang felt terribly sad. He was only six years old; small and, despite his maturity, still just a child. He understood what life and death were, but he could not comprehend the pain his relatives’ deaths would bring him. Only now, free from the immediate threat of death, did he start to remember the three family elders who had passed away. A longing and fear bubbled up, and his eyes quickly turned red, tears welling up.

Jiang Fanxing noticed his reddened eyes and remained silent. He did not offer comfort, only saying, “Alright. Tonight, when everyone else is asleep, you take me there.”

Then, he would transfer the food. Once they dug out the groundwater, he would leave this place and go elsewhere to save people.

While he was making his plans, some of the refugees who had returned home quietly dug up food they had hidden earlier. And while Jiang Fanxing and Li Zhenyang were sleeping, many of the refugees gathered together, whispering to one another.

Four hours later, the sun finally dipped below the horizon, and the temperature began to drop. Jiang Fanxing woke up feeling refreshed, and he found he could condense even more water than before. Although he still felt annoyed by the green substance on his skin, the chloroplasts were too useful. In another day, he might even be able to condense enough water to take a bath.

Even without the refugees digging for groundwater, the water he could condense on his own would be enough for them to drink. But he would have to leave sooner or later; it was better to teach them to fish than to give them a fish. The groundwater still needed to be dug.

“Kid, I am going out to work. Do not run around.”

“I understand, brother.”

Soon, Jiang Fanxing arrived in the village, found the refugees, and led them back to the riverbed. Behind him, several refugees exchanged glances before quickly bowing their heads. Jiang Fanxing had worried that if he did not give them water first, they would not have the strength to continue, but he was surprised to find them in decent shape. He thought to himself that these people were truly resilient. He gave them each a mouthful of water and promised, “When it gets dark, I will give you half a bowl each.”

The refugees dug hard, their bodies exhausted but their hearts burning. Finally, night fell. Jiang Fanxing prepared to fulfill his promise and had them line up for water. After they drank, he had intended to tell them to keep digging so they could rest more tomorrow, but they suddenly went on a collective strike.

Jiang Fanxing initially thought they were just too tired. He had considered calling it a day, but to his surprise, he found himself surrounded by them.

Jiang Fanxing: “?”

Looking at their fierce, hostile expressions, he pulled out his Swiss Army knife and the stun baton. His voice was cold: “What are you trying to do?”

A man looked at the weapons in his hands, his eyes full of hatred: “You can produce water, so why do you make us dig for it? Are you trying to work us to death?”

Others chimed in with resentment: “You have so much water, why not give us more? We work ourselves to the bone, but you only give us a tiny sip. You look like a human, but how can you be so vicious?”

“We are already so miserable; why will you not take out all the water to save us?”

The others followed suit, venting their dissatisfaction. Jiang Fanxing almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

“Are you all out of your minds? The water is something I produce myself. I give it to whoever I want. Even if I poured it on the ground and wasted it, it is mine. What does it have to do with you?”

“I told you this morning that letting you dig for water was to save you. Without me, you would not even be able to drink a drop, and you would not even know the groundwater existed. Now you are blaming me? You have really grown thick-skinned from being roasted in the sun.”

It was the end of the world, and they still wanted to use moral kidnapping on him. Their brains must have dehydrated and withered away.

He glanced coldly at the refugees, who were brandishing their shovels and pickaxes to surround him. He felt a bit of self-mockery. Hearing his sarcasm, the refugees’ eyes turned red. They could not hear anything else now; their eyes were fixed solely on Jiang Fanxing’s green-tinted hands.

“Cut off his hands. Then we will not be short of water anymore, and we will not have to dig for any damn groundwater.”

Infected by this vision, the refugees surged forward toward Jiang Fanxing.