Doomsday Fishing: I Took Revenge on My Wife’s Whole Family

The Ice Age began on the third day on Earth.

I was driving that beat-up pickup truck, the wheels crunching over the frozen, cracked asphalt. The engine was barely running in the frigid -50 degrees Celsius, and the white smoke from the exhaust pipe instantly froze into ice crystals.

Five people were crammed into the car.

His wife, Eileen, sat in the passenger seat, hugging herself tightly, her body curled up in a ball. She was wearing three down jackets, a thick scarf, and a hat, but her lips were still turning purple from the cold.

Martha, George, and Tom, the mother-in-law and father-in-law, squeezed into the back seat, wrapped in every blanket they could find, like three wriggling cocoons.

"Anson, can you drive faster? It's freezing cold here!" Martha's mother-in-law's voice came from the back seat, sharp and piercing.

I didn't respond, just stared at the snow-covered street ahead. Visibility was blurred, and the wipers could barely keep up with the speed at which the snow was piling up. With each wipe, a new layer of frost formed on the glass.

minus fifty degrees Celsius.

The steering wheel was frozen solid, like a block of iron; even with gloves on, the chill seeped straight to my bones. My fingers had lost all feeling, and I could only mechanically grip the steering wheel, turning it by instinct.

Outside the car window, the world had become a desolate white graveyard.

The buildings were encased in thick ice, like crystal coffins. Cars lay overturned on the roadside, some overturned, some crashed into telephone poles, and the frozen bodies inside remained in their last poses—some slumped over the steering wheel, some holding children, some reaching out of the car window as if calling for help.

The road surface was covered with cracks, spreading like a spider web. I carefully avoided the cracks, afraid that if I wasn't careful, the whole car would get stuck.

"Did you hear me?" Martha, the mother-in-law, shouted again, this time louder and more impatient.

"I heard you." I stepped on the gas.

The engine emitted a deep roar, but the car didn't increase speed much—the road surface was too icy, and going too fast would only result in a rollover. I had already seen several vehicles that tried to accelerate, now overturned on the side of the road, their wheels still spinning in the air.

"Ahead!" George, the father-in-law, suddenly pointed ahead, his voice tinged with surprise.

I looked up.

Through the blizzard, the outline of a large supermarket came into view. It was a three-story building with blue and white exterior walls and a huge neon sign hanging on it—although it was off, it was still clearly visible.

Most importantly, the glass door was intact, and the shelves inside were faintly visible.

"It wasn't looted?" Tom, the brother-in-law, leaned out the window, a greedy glint in his eyes.

"It should be." I turned the steering wheel and drove towards the supermarket. The tires slipped on the ice, so I quickly released the accelerator and steadied the steering wheel.

The pickup truck slowly drove into the supermarket parking lot.

Park the car. Turn off the engine.

The temperature inside the car dropped instantly. Without the engine's heat, a chill crept into the cabin in a flash .

"You guys wait in the car, I'll go in and take a look first." I opened the car door, and a biting cold wind rushed in, almost pushing me back into the car.

"What are you waiting for!" Martha, the mother-in-law, impatiently pushed open the back door, her movements so rough she almost pushed her brother-in-law, Tom, out of the car. "Hurry up and get in and unload your things!"

She was the first to rush out of the car, wrapped in a thick down jacket, and staggered toward the supermarket.

The others also got off the bus.

I was the last to get out of the car, closed the door, and followed behind them.

The supermarket's automatic door was frozen and stuck in a half-open position. I shoved it open with my shoulder, the glass door creaking loudly, and ice shards fell all over the floor.

Five people rushed into the supermarket.

It's a little warmer inside than outside, but it's still only around minus thirty degrees Celsius. The heating system has been off for a long time, but at least there's no wind.

The food is still on the shelves.

Canned goods, instant noodles, bottled water, compressed biscuits, medicine, fuel canisters... all are neatly arranged on the shelves, as if time has stood still here.

"We've struck it rich!" Tom, Tom's brother-in-law, shouted excitedly, his voice echoing in the empty supermarket. He ran to the food section and began frantically stuffing his shopping cart with his hands.

My mother-in-law, Martha, had already started stuffing the shopping cart, her movements so rough it looked like she was robbing someone. She grabbed bags of compressed biscuits and threw them into the cart without even looking at them. Canned food, instant noodles, chocolate, energy bars—she wanted everything edible.

My wife, Eileen, stood to the side, watching everything with some hesitation. She glanced up at me, her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, she said nothing and began loading bottled water into the car.

I went to the medicine section and got antibiotics, anti-inflammatory drugs, fever reducers, painkillers, bandages, and iodine. These are more precious than food in the apocalypse—wound infections are deadly in this temperature.

Then came the food section. I picked out high-calorie canned goods and compressed biscuits, along with some vitamin tablets and salt.

Three hours.

The two shopping carts were completely full.

Canned goods were piled up like a small mountain, compressed biscuits filled every crevice, bottled water was stacked in three layers, and medicine was packaged in a separate bag.

Looking at the supplies, I breathed a slight sigh of relief—at least they'd last until we reached the shelter. If used sparingly, these things could feed five people for two months.

"Anson!" My mother-in-law, Martha, suddenly called out to me, her voice coming from deep inside the supermarket.

I turned around.

She stood at the very back of the supermarket, pointing to a heavy iron door. It was the door to the employee entrance, leading to the warehouse.

"There's still stuff over there in the warehouse. Go and move the last batch," she said, pointing to the iron gate with an air of self-righteousness.

"What is that?" I walked over.

"The fuel tank," said Martha, the mother-in-law, matter-of-factly. "You're a man, who else should do this kind of work if not you?"

I glanced at her.

She was in her fifties, overweight, with deep, knife-cut wrinkles on her face. At that moment, she stood with her hands on her hips, chin slightly raised, her eyes carrying a self-assured arrogance—just as she had always looked at me.

I didn't say anything.

He turned and walked towards the warehouse.

Push open the iron gate.

There were dozens of fuel canisters piled up inside; they were really good stuff. Each canister held twenty liters, enough to burn for a long time.

The warehouse was huge, with rows of shelves stretching into the darkness. The lights had long been off, with only a faint glimmer of light seeping in from under the door.

I bent down and started moving it.

The fuel canisters were heavy, each weighing at least thirty pounds. I picked one up and headed for the door.

Just then—

"Click."

The iron gate was closed.

Then came the sound of a lock being fastened—a crisp click, as if something had been fastened.

I dropped the fuel canister, rushed to the door, and pulled hard on the doorknob.

"Eileen! Open the door!"

The door remained completely still.

It's locked from the outside.

I heard footsteps outside, the sound of cart wheels, and the sound of an engine starting.

"Eileen!!!"

I pounded on the door, the iron door making a dull thud that made my hands go numb.

A voice suddenly came through the radio.

Those were walkie-talkies I provided to everyone before we set off, to keep in touch.

"Anson," came Martha's voice, tinged with barely concealed sneer, "you can stay here."

Her voice sounded particularly harsh on the radio.

"What did you say?" I gripped the walkie-talkie tightly.

"I'm telling you, you piece of trash, you deserve to be abandoned."

He pronounced each word very clearly.

I was stunned.

"Mom...Mom..." came the voice of his wife, Eileen, over the radio. She seemed to want to say something, but was quickly interrupted by his mother-in-law, Martha.

"Shut up! He's your husband, but am I not your mother?" Martha's voice suddenly rose. "Do you want to watch me starve to death?!"

"But……"

"But what? One more person means one more mouth to feed!" Martha, the mother-in-law, said impatiently. "We only have so many supplies. If he dies, we can live a few more days!"

"You choose: your mother or this good-for-nothing!"

The radio went silent.

All that remained was the roar of the engine.

Then came Eileen's sobs—very soft, very suppressed, as if her mouth had been covered.

The sound of the engine faded into the distance.

I stood in front of the iron gate.

Slowly clench your fingers.

The voice came through the walkie-talkie again.

"Fucked that burden off, that feels so good!" That was Tom's brother-in-law's voice, filled with gleeful laughter. "I've had my eye on him for ages, he always has that sour face ."

"Exactly," Martha, Eileen's mother, chimed in. "I shouldn't have let Eileen marry him in the first place. What future could a convenience store clerk possibly have?"

"Now it's all good. Without him in the way, we have enough supplies to live a good life in the shelter ."

"By the way, Mom, what should we say to the shelter?" Tom, the brother-in-law, asked.

"Just say he was eaten by the ice beast while saving us," his mother-in-law, Martha, sneered. "If he cries a lot, he might get a bigger share of the supplies."

"Wow, that's brilliant!"

The radio went dead.

I turned and looked into the depths of the warehouse.

The roar of beasts could be heard outside.

Deep, hoarse, and wild.

That's an ice beast.

I heard the sound of glass shattering, the sound of something heavy moving in the supermarket, and the crashing sound of shelves being knocked over.

The footsteps grew closer.

Then came the sound of sniffing—the thing was outside the door, through the iron gate, sniffing my scent.

They're doomed.

I slowly slid down to sit on the ground, leaning against the iron gate.

The walkie-talkie fell to the ground, making a slight clicking sound.

[Ding—Ice Fishing System Activated]

A mechanical voice suddenly echoed in my mind.

Cold, ruthless, and full of electronic synthetic feel.

[Host's life is in danger]

[Emergency activation of survival mode]

[Congratulations, host, you have obtained: Constant Temperature Physique LV1]

[Congratulations, host, you have obtained: Beginner Frost Manipulation LV1]

[Congratulations, host, you have obtained: Beginner Ice Fishing Rod]

My body jolted.

A warm current surged from my heart and instantly spread to my limbs and bones.

The cold has disappeared.

Instead, I felt a warm sensation, as if an invisible membrane was enveloping me, shielding me from all the cold.

A one-meter-long, ice-blue fishing rod appeared out of thin air in his hand.

The fishing rod is crystal clear, like a work of art sculpted from crystal. The fishing line is as thin as a hair, shimmering with a faint blue light in the dim glow. The hook is sharp, gleaming with a cold light.

[New Player Quest: Please go to the nearest icy body of water for your first ice fishing trip]

[Mission Reward: Random Treasure Chest x1]

I looked at the fishing rod in my hand.

The roars of the beasts outside were getting closer and closer.

Something slammed into the iron gate, making a loud noise.

Dust fell from the ceiling.

I took a deep breath.

Stand up.

Look into the depths of the warehouse—there's a small door there, the back door of the employee entrance, leading to the unloading area at the back of the supermarket.

I gripped the fishing rod and walked towards the small door.

He kicked it away.

A biting wind swept over me, but I didn't feel cold.

The unloading area was an open concrete area with several overturned trucks piled up.

Three ice beasts were lying on the wreckage of a truck, gnawing on the corpse.

Each of them was as large as an adult lion, covered in frost-white mane, with fangs as sharp as daggers. Their icy blue eyes glowed in the darkness, filled with bloodthirsty excitement.

They turned their heads.

Its icy blue eyes were staring at me.

One of them stood up, letting out a deep growl from its throat, saliva dripping down its fangs and freezing instantly on the ground.

"Come on."

I raised my fishing rod.

I don't know why, but I instinctively know how to use it.

The fishing line at the tip of the rod suddenly taut, and the hook shot out like a sharp ice spike.

The sound of something cutting through the air rang out.

Before the three ice beasts could react, ice spikes had already pierced their skulls.

Pfft—

Three muffled thuds.

The three ice beasts fell to the ground at the same time, blood gushing from the holes in their heads and freezing on the ground.

I reeled in my fishing rod.

The ice spikes dissipated, the fishing line softened again, and it rolled back onto the rod.

I glanced at the back of the unloading area.

There is a frozen lake there—it used to be a sewage treatment pond, but now it's completely frozen, shimmering with a bluish light under the moonlight.

I walked over.

Standing on the edge of the ice.

Use a fishing hook to chisel a hole in the ice—the ice spikes easily pierced through the half-meter-thick ice layer, just like cutting tofu.

The opening is about half a meter in diameter, with smooth and neat edges.

I squatted down.

Put down the fishing hook.

The fishing line sank into the icy water and disappeared into the darkness.

wait.

Five minutes.

Ten minutes.

The fishing line suddenly sank.

I felt a tremendous pulling force coming from underwater, almost pulling the fishing rod away.

I pulled hard.

The fishing line was taut, making a buzzing vibration.

A golden treasure chest slowly emerged from the water—the chest was as big as a suitcase, entirely golden, with intricate patterns carved on its surface, radiating a soft glow.

The treasure chest landed on the ice with a dull thud.

[Congratulations, host, on completing the beginner's quest]

[Obtained 1 Golden Treasure Chest]

[Enable?]

"Start."

The golden treasure chest opened automatically.

Light emanated from within.

[Congratulations, host, you have obtained: Dual superpowers - Frost Manipulation LV3 + Extreme Cold Domain LV1]

[Frost Manipulation LV3: Can freely condense and manipulate frost, shaping it into various forms]

[Extreme Cold Zone LV1: Temperatures within a 50-meter radius centered on the user can drop to -100 degrees Celsius]

A tremendous force surged into his body.

I stood up.

Raise your right hand.

A thought arose.

Countless ice spikes materialized out of thin air, flying everywhere like a group of soldiers obeying orders, forming various formations in the air.

I withdrew my hand.

The ice spikes vanished instantly, turning into ice crystals that drifted down.

I turned on the radio.

Tune in to the shelter's public channel—before departure, the commander gave everyone a public channel frequency to receive the shelter's broadcasts.

"The 237th group of survivors has arrived at the shelter."

"Families of martyrs will be given priority in resettlement"

Mrs. Martha and her family have moved into the luxury suite in Zone A.

According to Mrs. Martha, her son-in-law, Anson, heroically sacrificed himself to save his family by covering their retreat alone.

The shelter will hold a memorial service for martyr Anson.

"Families of martyrs will receive the highest level of treatment."