The next day, Logan, still clinging to a bit of hope, decided to visit a bank. After spending half the day breaking through several locks, he finally stood before the vault door. Immediately, a wave of dizziness and nausea hit him—just like before.
This time, he gave up entirely. The vault wasn't just thick; it was multilayered and intricately designed. No ordinary force could open it. Even if he managed to destroy the lock, the door itself would remain impenetrable.
Frustrated, Logan resigned himself to methodically looting the remaining jewelry stores in the city. By the end of the day, he had cleared out every shop. However, his haul was meager—barely a few dozen kilograms of gold along with other jewelry. It was even less than he had anticipated.
After using these to accumulate more upgrade points, he checked the Cornucopia:
[Cornucopia]
[Storage Capacity: 1456x1456x1456]
[153,673 currency points needed to unlock full storage capacity]
[Function: Item Replication 381]
[Required Wealth Points for Upgrade: 1.24 million]
Logan realized he was only about 150 kilograms of gold away from maxing out the storage capacity, which filled him with excitement.
On the third day after the blizzard, after finishing his morning practice of the Health Preservation Technique, Logan noticed heavy snowfall outside. Though visibility was poor, the wind wasn't strong, so it was still possible to venture out and search for more gold.
Max Knight's injuries hadn't fully healed yet, so Logan decided to leave him behind again, just as he had the day before. Anticipating worsening snowfall, he left enough food for Max Knight to last several days before heading out.
Today's target was the outskirts of the city.
As Logan reached the suburbs, he immediately sensed a change in the atmosphere. In fact, it wasn't just the outskirts—South City itself had changed. There were far fewer people out scavenging for supplies compared to previous days.
In the past two days, Logan had often seen lone individuals carrying supplies, only to be ambushed by others. Knives were drawn frequently, and Logan had witnessed several deadly altercations right in front of him. The once-pristine snow was now marred with chaotic footprints and large, bloody patches.
Just the day before, he had seen two young women who had ventured out together, only to be dragged into a dark, deserted shop by three men. Their desperate cries had quickly faded into silence.
Logan's "luxurious" outfit made him a natural target. Greedy eyes and malicious intent followed him constantly.
Thanks to his enhanced physical abilities from unlocking the second phase of the gene lock and his eight years of experience in the apocalypse, Logan easily handled anyone foolish enough to approach. Ever since learning that near-death experiences could trigger the gene lock, Logan had become even more decisive. He never hesitated to strike, killing quickly and cleanly.
The world may have been blanketed in white, but people's hearts had turned pitch black.
After dispatching the fifth unlucky soul who crossed his path, Logan grew weary of the constant encounters. He sheathed his bloodstained kukri and hung it at his waist. Sure enough, fewer people dared to approach him after that.
However, during lunch, yet another fool appeared.
"Young man, please... can you spare a bite? I haven't eaten for two days," an older woman, around fifty, dressed in a tattered quilted jacket, approached the print shop where Logan was taking a break.
Logan glanced at her coldly. His voice was sharp,
"One more step, and you die."
The woman froze, tears welling up in her eyes.
"Oh, heavens, why have you forsaken me? My children are far away, leaving me to suffer here alone…" she whimpered.
"Young man, I don't need much—just a bite. I'll trade you this coat for it," she offered, standing in the doorway.
A bite of food for a warm coat might seem like a fair trade, something someone desperate might agree to. But Logan's expression only grew colder as he stood and walked toward her.
Thinking she had succeeded, the woman smiled in relief. But as Logan drew closer, a flash of malice flickered in her eyes. Hidden in her coat was a sharp metal spike. Before she could raise it, a flash of silver sliced through the air.
The world spun for the woman, and the last thing she saw was Logan standing over a headless corpse, bloodied knife in hand.
Is that... my body? she wondered in her final moment.
Logan cleaned his blade and kicked the woman's body out the door. He cast a cold glance at the several pairs of eyes watching from the shadows, sending them scurrying away, before returning to finish his meal.
That afternoon, as Logan was gathering more gold, a commotion erupted in the distance. The sound wasn't coming from nearby but from the high-rise apartments and residential complexes.
"Soldiers! Over here!"
"The military's here! We're saved!"
"Please help me! I haven't eaten in three days!"
For the past two days, people had been shouting in despair, wondering why the military hadn't come, why the government hadn't sent help. Logan had already anticipated this moment—the military's intervention.
The day before, Logan had visited another port and found that most of the containers had been opened, the useful supplies removed. Recalling his earlier encounter with the military, Logan was certain that the soldiers had been ordered to gather supplies over the past few days.
It was a smart move. Without enough resources to calm the survivors, even if the military managed to maintain order, starving and freezing people would remain dissatisfied. In their desperation, they might even revolt against the soldiers, causing chaos and unrest. The commander of the South City military wasn't a fool.
Finally, the military had made its move.
Fully armed soldiers appeared throughout South City, equipped with real guns and ammunition. However, much to the disappointment of the survivors, the soldiers weren't carrying the supplies everyone had hoped for. Instead, they were distributing sheets of paper—flyers or notices of some sort.
The soldiers ignored the corpses scattered across the streets, going about their task as if they were posting advertisements and propaganda in the pre-apocalyptic world. They pasted the sheets in prominent locations and handed them directly to the people they encountered.
Logan received one of the handwritten notices from a soldier.