A Post-Apocalyptic Journey to Another World

It's almost deep winter, and a blizzard has just ended, leaving the entire city blanketed in white. Pingyuan City is located in East China, where the four seasons are distinct and snow falls every winter, but this is the first time such a heavy snowfall has occurred.

On the western outskirts of Plains City, a group of strangely dressed people were clearing snow. Because small numbers of monsters frequently slip into Plains City like fish that escape the net, harming residents, the snow has no effect on them, but it hinders emergency vehicles such as police cars and ambulances, making snow removal on the roads crucial.

Despite their hunger, people continued to work with great enthusiasm. The reason was simple: if they stopped, the biting cold wind would pierce their thin clothes like steel needles, penetrating their skin and muscles.

In previous years, winter temperatures in Pingyuan City rarely dropped below freezing, so people usually only wore light down jackets. This year, however, it's unusually cold. Residents have had no choice but to wear several layers of coats to ward off the chill.

The result of wearing this outfit is that there are too many coats, making the person look very bulky. There are also several layers of coat collars around the neck, which makes it difficult to move the neck. It looks a bit strange, even comical.

But these are still ordinary people. Many refugees would find it difficult to even do something so 'comical'. Who would carry extra clothes when fleeing?

With supplies extremely scarce, each time food and other supplies were transported in, a large number of troops were needed to clear the roads and escort the convoys. It can be said that every load of supplies was bought with lives. Food supplies were already tight, so new clothes were out of the question.

There was a shortage of all kinds of resources and energy. Not only staple food, but also medicine, coal, gasoline, electricity, and even salt could not be guaranteed. Heating was a luxury.

People shoveling snow were drawn to a noise that grew louder as it approached. It was an infantry fighting vehicle that stopped a short distance away, and a soldier carrying a large bag jumped out. The soldier waved, and the vehicle continued towards the city center.

The two militiamen responsible for guarding the people looked at the soldier with envy. He was wearing a winter combat uniform and battlefield boots. Although he was not tall, he had an upright posture and looked very spirited.

Of course, what the militiamen envied wasn't these things, but the rifle he carried on his back—the most advanced assault rifle for frontline troops, and his was slightly different, with a longer barrel, a larger frame, and a grenade launcher attached. Clearly, it had been modified. The pistol at his waist wasn't a standard issue pistol either, but a huge revolver!

One of the militiamen, a gun enthusiast, immediately recognized it as an M500, a pistol known for its ability to kill an elephant with a single shot. Moreover, the M500 isn't a military pistol; it's a hunting rifle.

The militiaman was both envious and disdainful. The M500 looked impressive and was said to be the most powerful pistol, but its shortcomings were more obvious: it had great recoil, poor shooting accuracy, and it could not use general-purpose bullets because its bullets were almost twice the size of general-purpose bullets.

Looking at the old gun in his hand, the militiaman felt somewhat resentful. He wondered where the higher-ups had gotten this broken gun from in an emergency, a product from the last century.

The captain said last month that he would distribute the newly manufactured guns, but a month has passed and there's still no news. He cursed under his breath.

"This is an arrogant and flamboyant military descendant," the militia concluded.

Zhang Xi was unaware that he was being envied and resented by a militiaman. He was in an exceptionally good mood today, partly because he hadn't been home for a long time, and partly because of the items in his personal space.

As he hurried along, he happily inspected the items in his spatial storage: eleven forest troll hearts, a bottle of Barefoot Python venom, a small pile of snow lotus flowers, and three Starlight Grasses. These were the items Zhang Xi had asked Huang Lin to find. With these items, they could refine a real Mighty Potion, instead of the lousy, half-finished Hardman Potion that Zhang Xi had drunk.

Thanks to that superstitious transport minister and the 'illusory reality' potion!

When Huang Lin took out these items, Zhang Xi found Huang Lin's obsequious, youthful face more pleasing to the eye. Of course, pleasing to the eye as it was didn't stop Zhang Xi from taking Huang Lin's gold bars. After all, gold bars would depreciate drastically in a year, just like the current Chinese currency.

These days, if you go to the black market to buy anything, you have to bring a huge bag of Chinese yuan, and even then, the seller might not accept it. That's because the value of that bag of yuan might drop again tomorrow. People now prefer gold bars or simply bartering.

Two large-scale monster attacks in succession, coupled with the small-scale rifts that keep appearing, cast a shadow over the hearts of everyone in Plains City.

Zhang Xi walked along the deserted street, the cold wind whistling against his face like knives. Those who had entered the Bronze Realm could have ignored such cold, but at this moment, he had already compressed his Yuan Energy into his lower abdomen, letting the cold wind stimulate his body. Zhang liked this feeling; he stubbornly believed that excessive physical comfort would make him sluggish.

The roads were less crowded than three months ago, but there were more pedestrians. Everyone looked serious and preoccupied with their own thoughts as they went about their tasks. Many women were shoveling snow, while young men were helping to build fortifications, the most common of which were semi-circular, enclosed bunkers.

Almost every street and every intersection was fortified with bunkers of varying sizes. With the advancement of military technology, these urban warfare fortifications that had been phased out decades ago were put back into use.

Without those near-beast monsters, the militia, lacking training and heavy firepower, could rely on the sturdy defenses of reinforced concrete and use a limited network of light firepower to slowly whittle them down.

Ahead was Jiuding Square Park. Crossing the park would bring him very close to home. Zhang Xi turned a corner and froze, as memories from both lifetimes overlapped once more.

The green landscape and fitness facilities in Jiuding Guangcheng Park have all been demolished, replaced by rows of brightly colored tents. These tents are arranged neatly, clearly following a planned and approved schedule.

However, the materials and colors of the tents were very inconsistent. In particular, the outer tents were no longer a uniform military green, but were constructed using various types of tarpaulins, plastic sheets, and other materials.

The perimeter of the tent complex was a sewage drainage channel, not an underground passage, but a temporarily constructed open ditch. Even before entering, a wave of stench hit you.

It was nine in the morning, and wisps of smoke were rising from a tent made of plastic sheeting next to the sewage ditch. Since it wasn't normal cooking time, the smoke was a stark contrast to the otherwise silent cluster of tents. This scene reminded Zhang Xi of a near-death experience from his past life, and he unconsciously walked over.

Zhang Xi had excellent eyesight and could see the situation from several hundred meters away. A thin little girl who looked no more than eighty years old was busy at work. She had set up a small earthen stove outside the tent and was boiling water with firewood in an iron pot. The little girl was also wrestling with a bed leg or sofa leg with an axe.

With difficulty and awkwardness, she raised the axe to chop at the sofa leg, but kept missing. After chopping for a while, she stopped to rest, occasionally sucking on her bruised left index finger. Two red blushes appeared on her thin, sallow cheeks, showing how exhausted she was. Her hair was somewhat disheveled, sticking wetly to her face with a mixture of sweat and tousled.

What's most captivating are her large eyes, bright and sparkling like black gemstones, revealing a childlike vulnerability mixed with a hint of determination. However, the red and swollen circles under her eyes marred this determination; the little girl may have just been crying.

"Are you cooking? It's not easy to find firewood in the city." A gentle voice interrupted the little girl who was focused on her work.

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