Chapter Two

Four days remained until polar night descended.

Inside our penthouse duplex, welding sounds and sparks intertwined, creating an intense metallic burning smell in the air.

"Bang!"

A military supply crate weighing over a hundred pounds was heavily slammed onto the expensive Italian hardwood floor. Dad dusted off his hands and kicked open the lid. Inside were neatly arranged two Remington shotguns, a rotary machine gun, and thousands of brass-colored bullets.

"The farm back home is completely cleared out." Dad bit an unlit cigar, his rough large hand patting the machine gun barrel. "The hallway outside has concealed microwave sensor lines. One flip of the switch, and the steel plate outside the door will electrify—enough to roast a grizzly bear."

"Well done, Dad." I welded the last bulletproof steel plate onto the building's only entrance.

This door now weighed a ton. Even with explosives, it would be difficult to leave a breach in it.

On the other side, Mom and Ivy were operating efficiently. Without the usual relaxed chatting, they moved like wound-up precision machines. Ivy finished assembling a soilless cultivation kit and UV growth lights, then completed the final calibration of the internal circulation water purifier.

Over these three days, I liquidated all stocks, cryptocurrencies, and several properties on the dark web at rock-bottom prices, converting everything to cash.

In the apocalypse, the primary concerns are heat and energy.

I paid heavily for a construction crew to inject twenty centimeters of bulletproof aerospace-grade graphene aerogel insulation into the existing wall cavities.

I also secretly stockpiled fifteen five-ton industrial anti-freeze heavy oil tanks, paired with two sets of military-grade room-temperature superconducting silent generators acquired from the underground black market. Even if the city's power grid were destroyed by nuclear bombs, this energy would be enough for our entire family to comfortably enjoy 25-degree constant temperature for twenty years.

As for food, Mom and Ivy were in charge.

I walked over to look. Ivy was sliding through data on a tablet: "One hundred thousand self-heating rations, eight tons of high-purity carbohydrate compressed biscuits, various dehydrated freeze-dried vegetables. This is our minimum guarantee. Of course, there are also those 'recreational items' you specifically requested."

Following her gaze, I looked through the glass door at the cold light reflected from the specially-made constant-temperature freezer number three.

Inside were neatly stacked three hundred top-grade M9 Japanese Wagyu tomahawk steaks airlifted in, two hundred cans of Black Sea wild sturgeon caviar, and an entire wall filled with Romanée-Conti red wine and craft bourbon whiskey.

Not only that, the entire penthouse connected directly to underground water. I installed three sets of internal circulation water purification systems to ensure inexhaustible water resources. Additionally, Ivy personally assembled soilless cultivation units containing four hundred UV growth lights in the sunroom, planting vitamin C-rich fresh strawberries and tomatoes.

Beyond this, there were complete photovoltaic components, several tons of smokeless coal, and tactical survival supplies filling the dressing room.

The penthouse duplex was no longer a luxurious mansion but an "absolute zero fortress" capable of sustaining us through the polar night apocalypse.

"Beep—Warning, outer perimeter surveillance has detected unauthorized intruders."

Just as I was preparing to refuel the diesel generator, the holographic surveillance system suddenly emitted a piercing electronic synthesized voice.

I walked to the central control screen and pulled up the hallway surveillance footage.

In the surveillance, Toby, sporting colorful dirty dreadlocks, was standing outside the door with three similarly thuggish armed punks, looking aggressive.

"Reese! You goddamn bastard, get out here!"

Toby's shrill, frantic voice came through the external pickup clearly into the fortress interior. "You think stopping my credit card and changing to a broken iron door means you can hide inside and play dead?! That card has my mom's money! Open the door immediately and give me twenty thousand in cash, or I'll smash your door today!"

Hearing the voice of the culprit who had killed us in the previous life, Ivy's hands assembling water pipes paused. She raised her head toward the screen, her once gentle eyes now containing only coldness.

Dad George frowned and reached for the shotgun in the case: "Need me to blow this punk's head back into his mother's womb?"

"No, Dad. Social order hasn't completely collapsed yet. Attracting SWAT would delay our final cold storage construction." I chuckled coldly, pressing Dad's hand, then leisurely picked up a cup of hot coffee and pressed the intercom button.

"Toby. While I'm in a good mood, take your pack of mongrels and get the hell off my property."

My cold voice echoed through the speakers above the hallway.

"Fuck, Reese!" Toby raised his middle finger at the camera, then grabbed a crowbar from one of the punks behind him and violently struck the electronic lock on the door. "I'm going to teach you a lesson today! Tear this door down!"

I watched the screen, a trace of mockery flashing in my eyes, my finger gently pressing the red auxiliary console button beside me.

Just as Toby gripped the crowbar, its metal tip firmly against the door seam—

"Crackle—Bang!"

Electric current instantly conducted through the steel plate to the crowbar. Toby's entire body was thrown back by the static spark, heavily hitting the opposite wall, the skin on his palm burned off, emitting a burnt smell.

"Ahhhh! My hand! You crazy bastard dared to ambush me?!" Toby rolled on the ground in pain, clutching his hand.

The other three punks, seeing this, immediately backed away two steps, looking at the black door with suspicion and uncertainty.

"Reese, I've already called the police." Ivy stood behind me, holding a phone she'd just hung up. "The patrol officers happened to be downstairs."

In less than five minutes, the elevator dinged open.

Two armed police officers rushed out, directly drawing guns aimed at Toby and his crew still wailing on the ground.

"Get down! Hands behind your head! Get down now!"

"Officer! He attacked me first! This bastard owes us money..." Toby tried to argue through his screams.

"Shut up, you stupid pig!" The officer roughly twisted Toby's arms back, cuffing his cold hands. "We received surveillance footage from the property owner downstairs. With witness and physical evidence, save your excuses for the detention center!"

Through the panoramic surveillance, I watched as Toby was dragged into the elevator by police.

In the last moment before the elevator doors closed, his eyes, full of resentment and humiliation, stared deadly at the direction of the camera.

Feel aggrieved, feel hatred.

This scum would definitely not let it go. He would soon be bailed out and return with tenfold madness seeking revenge.

But that's exactly what I was waiting for.

When that overwhelming cold current and endless corpse tide swept through the city, I would let these vampires witness firsthand what true despair and hell really meant.