Chapter2

The welding torch spewed out blinding blue-white arcs of light, and flames reaching up to three thousand degrees licked the seams of the special steel plates.

I removed my protective mask and wiped the sweat from my forehead. The last piece of the three-layer composite thermal insulation armor was finally snapped into place on the abandoned exterior wall of the research institute.

There are only seven days left until that frozen hell descends.

The heavy investment yielded immediate results. The entire semi-basement building has been transformed into a colossal steel behemoth, capable of absorbing and expelling air. The newly installed internal circulation fresh air system emits a low hum, delivering filtered, dry, warm air into every room.

Having an iron shell isn't enough; the confidence to survive lies in the palm of my hand.

Open the "Doomsday Farm" app on your phone, and the progress bar on the screen is climbing at an extremely fast speed.

One-click planting, one-click ripening. No sunlight or soil required, just a little electricity from the generator, and tons of golden, mutated high-fat corn and fist-sized high-sugar strawberries will roll into the system's [temperature-controlled warehouse].

I scrolled through the warehouse grid. The mountains of self-heating rations, high-grade diesel fuel, polar cold-weather clothing, and several riot control crossbows obtained through the black market allowed my tense nerves to relax slightly.

This rare moment of tranquility was abruptly shattered by a red alert popping up at the top of the phone.

It wasn't an upgrade notification for the farm, but rather the smart security system I had linked to my old apartment. As I swiped to open the monitor, a piercing metallic scraping sound immediately came from the speakers.

On the screen, Luke was expertly using a duplicate key to open the security door of my downtown apartment.

Chloe followed closely behind, carrying several large, thick woven bags.

"I told you he'd struck it rich!" Luke pushed open the door, his eyes quickly scanning the empty living room. "They even sold the furniture for a pittance; they definitely haven't had time to transfer those millions in cash yet. Let's find him!"

Chloe strode into the bedroom in her high heels, the sound of her rummaging through drawers and cabinets sounding jarring even through the screen.

“He sold this house without even saying goodbye. He clearly wants to get rid of us and keep all the money for himself! We have to get the cash out today!” Chloe urged anxiously as she opened a drawer in the wardrobe.

Looking at these two "relatives" who once used me as bait in the snowstorm, I felt surprisingly calm.

Want to make a quick buck? Then stay in there and enjoy your time.

My fingers flew across the screen as I accessed the apartment's ground floor control. "Beep—" A dull electronic lock clicked from the heavy, custom-made security door on the monitor.

Luke, who was bent over searching through the safe, suddenly turned around, ran over, and tugged hard at the doorknob.

It remained completely still.

"Why is the door locked?" He pounded on the door in frustration and tried to turn the mechanical knob.

Ignoring his panic, I continued swiping my finger, directly cutting off the main gas valve on the apartment's gas line. While I was at it, I changed the password for the smart temperature control system, completely locking the heating module of the indoor air conditioner.

After doing all this, I switched the monitoring interface to the background.

Let them slowly waste their energy in that cage of reinforced concrete.

The wall clock pointed to eight o'clock in the evening. I was just about to make some hot food when a teeth-grinding "click" suddenly came from outside the heavy, airtight door to the basement.

It looked like some huge, sharp blade scraping through the armor on the outer wall.

I strode to the center console and switched to the external infrared camera. The image on the screen made my breath catch in my throat.

The surveillance camera was shaking violently, and countless ice crystals, like dense white bullets, were pelting the lens. A strong wind whipped up debris from the ground, which slammed heavily against the outer walls of the research institute.

The piercing sound of the air raid siren seeped through the thick walls and faintly entered the basement.

The weather bureau's disaster alerts instantly filled my phone screen: an epic cold wave red alert.

The external temperature gauge on the center console is dropping rapidly.

Ten degrees, zero degrees, minus ten degrees...

In just three hours, the red numbers plummeted to minus twenty degrees Celsius as if falling off a cliff, and continued to drop at a rate that defied meteorological norms.

The extreme cold that claimed the lives of 80% of the world's population, as I remember it, did not adhere to the 15-day countdown.

It arrived ahead of schedule .

The cold air tried to sneak in through the gaps in the ventilation ducts, but was forcefully pushed back by the hot air from the internal circulation system. The basement remained at a constant 20 degrees Celsius.

I abruptly switched back to the old apartment surveillance footage on my phone.

In the scene, Luke and Chloe, who were previously frantically banging on the door, are now huddled in a corner of the living room, shivering, wrapped in thin summer clothes.

"Why is it so cold all of a sudden... The gas won't turn on, and the air conditioner is broken!" Chloe hugged her arms, exhaling puffs of clear white breath.

Luke frantically pounded on the security door that I had remotely welded shut with a chair, the force of the impact causing him to fall to the ground.

There was no heating, no food, and the doors and windows were tightly shut.

This survival game of slowly boiling a frog has only just begun.