Lin Fan stepped out of the apartment building and into the blistering heat of the late June afternoon. The sun beat down with a vengeance, the asphalt shimmering with heat haze. It was a suffocating 35°C (95°F)—the complete antithesis of the agonizing cold that awaited the world in just one month. The contrast felt surreal, almost blasphemous.
He took a deep, deliberate breath of the humid air. Thirty days. A lifetime of suffering compressed into a few short weeks of preparation.
His first priority wasn't food, but capital.
He walked with a purpose he hadn't possessed in his past, miserable life. He had spent the last two hours setting up a financial apocalypse from his laptop, the sheer audacity of his plan giving him a chilling sense of exhilaration.
He had started by selling the few viable assets he owned: his mediocre sedan, his entire portfolio of volatile cryptocurrency, and the few blue-chip stocks he'd foolishly held onto. It generated a quick, clean $45,000. Not enough for a fortress, but enough for the initial stage.
Next came the debt. The part where he gleefully set fire to his future credit rating. He targeted every high-limit credit card he could qualify for, maxing out the cash advances immediately. Then came the personal loans from traditional banks, followed by the deep dive into the murky world of micro-lending apps and payday loans—the kind that charged 30% APR, the kind that threatened physical violence for missed payments.
Lin Fan laughed, a dry, rasping sound. "Come and collect, loan sharks. You'll find my door securely welded shut, and you'll be too cold to knock."
He didn't care about the interest rates or the collateral. He was borrowing against a non-existent future. In thirty days, all financial systems would crash, the global economy would freeze, and his debt would evaporate into the cold, cold air, along with the institutions that issued it.
After 48 hours of non-stop applications, approvals, and wire transfers, his disposable liquid capital had ballooned from a mere $5,000 to an astonishing $870,000. The amount was staggering, enough to buy a luxurious house in a quiet suburb. But Lin Fan wasn't buying houses; he was buying time, safety, and comfort.
The Day of the Great Hoarding
His first stop was the largest wholesale warehouse club in the metropolitan area—MegaStock.
He arrived in a rented, unmarked white van with tinted windows. He had dressed simply in dark clothing, wearing a generic baseball cap pulled low. He wasn't doing anything illegal, but the sheer volume of his purchasing needed to be discreet.
Lin Fan walked directly to the customer service desk. He bypassed the aisles, the samples, and the confused shoppers. He spoke to the manager, a portly, exhausted man named Greg.
"I am planning an extended mission overseas for a client," Lin Fan stated, using a calm, authoritative tone that brooked no argument. "I need bulk, non-perishable goods, immediate delivery. Every single item must be transported to a single location. Cash payment."
He then slid a list across the counter. Greg's eyes widened as he scanned the items.
Water: 10,000 Gallons (bottled and filtered).
Rice: 500 bags (50lbs each).
Canned Goods: 3,000 assorted cans (beans, tuna, vegetables).
Flour, Sugar, Salt: 200 bags each.
Medical Supplies: Industrial first aid kits, antibiotics (purchased under a fake veterinary supply company), painkillers, heavy-duty trauma kits.
Power: Three large diesel generators (30kW capacity each) and 500 gallons of high-grade diesel fuel (delivered separately).
"Sir... this is an industrial quantity. Do you have permits for the fuel? And the water alone is a logistical nightmare," Greg stammered, rubbing his temples.
Lin Fan pulled out a crisp wad of $100 bills—$5,000 in pure cash—and placed it gently next to the list. "This is your personal bonus. The logistics are my problem. I expect no questions, only immediate action. I will personally supervise the loading."
Greg's resistance crumbled instantly. "Right this way, sir. We have a loading dock around the back..."
For the next ten hours, Lin Fan lived in a state of controlled frenzy. As the workers loaded the heavy pallets onto the rented van and a separate box truck he had hired, Lin Fan stood guard, directing them meticulously.
Every single item, from the smallest bottle of antiseptic to the heaviest sack of flour, was immediately transferred from the pallet to the safety of his Dimensional Storage Space.
He would wait until the workers turned their backs, then with a silent command, the goods would vanish. The workers would stare at the rapidly emptying pallet, shake their heads, and assume they were just exhausted.
"Is the truck even taking anything, sir? It looks empty," one tired young man asked after unloading an entire skid of canned beef.
Lin Fan smiled thinly. "My client insists on immediate internal sorting. Just keep loading."
By the end of the day, his Dimensional Storage Space—the magnificent 10,000 cubic meters—was barely one percent full, but the sheer variety of essentials was secured.
The Luxury Haul: The True Power Fantasy
Lin Fan had the rice, the water, and the medicine. Now it was time to cater to the King. The suffering he endured in his past life was as much mental as physical—the despair of only having tasteless, frozen rations.
His next stop was a high-end gourmet foods market and a specialty liquor store.
"I need your best," Lin Fan told the wine merchant, an elderly man with a finely tailored vest. "I'm setting up a bunker for the next five years. Budget is no object. Give me your finest Bordeaux, your best single malts, and a variety of top-shelf tequila."
The merchant, seeing Lin Fan's casual dismissal of price tags, treated him like royalty. Lin Fan spent another $50,000 on fine alcohol alone. As soon as the bottles were boxed and handed to him, they disappeared into the Dimensional Storage, the 1982 Bordeaux instantly entering suspended animation, waiting patiently for the day Lin Fan could enjoy it in his warm bunker.
He went to the butcher next. He ordered enough premium meat to feed a luxury cruise ship.
Wagyu Beef: 200 kg.
Dry-aged Ribeyes: 500 cuts.
Iberico Ham: 10 whole legs.
Whole Lobsters and Caviar: $10,000 worth.
The butchers were ecstatic. Lin Fan paid in cash, then immediately stored the perfectly frozen packages. The time-stop property meant the meat would never suffer freezer burn. Every future meal would be as fresh as the moment he bought it.
He also didn't forget the comfort items:
Thousands of energy drinks and cola (iced cold, forever).
Boxes of premium cigars and high-quality pipe tobacco.
A new, top-of-the-line gaming console, stacks of unopened games, and several high-definition solar-powered tablets pre-loaded with every movie and book he could download.
The finest wool blankets and self-heating winter clothing available, bought from an expedition supply store.
Lin Fan stood in the middle of the store, surrounded by mountains of wealth and luxury. He hadn't just secured survival; he had secured superiority.
The First Friction: The Landlord's Complaint
Two days later, the massive shipments began arriving at Lin Fan's apartment building. It wasn't the food, which he had already stored, but the construction materials: heavy-duty steel plating, cement bags, specialized security bars, and a massive, lead-lined security door that weighed half a ton.
Lin Fan had hired a reputable, but expensive, renovation crew under the pretense of "building a high-security wine cellar" within his rented apartment unit. He paid them triple the market rate to work only at night and ask zero questions.
The noise, however, was inevitable.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
The knocking was frantic. Lin Fan, wearing a contractor's helmet and covered in dust, opened the door to find Mr. Thompson, his landlord, a nervous, sweat-soaked man in his late 50s.
"Lin Fan! What in God's name is going on in here?! I've had three complaints about the drilling! The whole building is shaking! And what is this? Steel plates? Are you turning my apartment into a bomb shelter?!" Thompson's face was red with frustration and fear of liability.
Lin Fan leaned against the doorway, allowing Thompson to see the construction crew welding steel bars into the window frames.
"Mr. Thompson," Lin Fan said, his voice level and devoid of warmth. "I am upgrading the structural integrity of this apartment. It's a private project. It's safe, and it's temporary."
"Temporary? This is destroying my property! I'm terminating your lease immediately! You have 24 hours to—"
Lin Fan raised a hand, cutting him off mid-sentence. He reached into his pocket—the one on his jacket that was still connected to his Dimensional Storage Space—and pulled out a bundle of cash. It wasn't a cheap wad; it was $30,000.
"This is six months of rent," Lin Fan stated, pressing the money into the stunned landlord's hand. "In cash. Consider this payment for the temporary inconvenience and for any unforeseen damage."
Thompson looked at the staggering amount of money, then back at Lin Fan, completely speechless. His eyes darted between the cash and the sound of the welding torch.
"And this," Lin Fan continued, pulling out another $5,000 and pressing it into Thompson's other hand. "Is your silence fee. You forget you saw the steel plates, the drills, and the welding torches. You only remember that Lin Fan paid his rent six months in advance."
Thompson's ethical objections evaporated like steam. He quickly shoved both bundles of cash deep into his pockets, his eyes darting down the hallway to ensure no one saw his sudden, illicit wealth.
"Mr. Lin," Thompson mumbled, wiping his forehead. "I... I see. A structural stability project. For... a safe, I assume? Very private. Very understandable. I apologize for the intrusion. Please, carry on. Just try to finish up the loud parts before midnight, yes?"
Lin Fan offered a chilling, humorless smile. "Of course, Mr. Thompson. I wouldn't dream of causing permanent inconvenience."
As the landlord scurried away, clutching his unexpected fortune, Lin Fan returned inside. He had just established a critical rule for the next few weeks: Money talks, and debt is irrelevant. He had purchased his peace, his silence, and his time.
He looked at the blueprints for the next phase of the shelter—sealing the main door with reinforced concrete and installing the massive new steel vault door.
Phase One of the Fortress is complete. Let the world freeze.
(Author's Note: The funds are secured, the silence is bought, and the hoarding is underway! What will Lin Fan do when his betrayed ex-girlfriend, Sarah, calls begging for money? Find out in Chapter 3! Please leave a comment and a Power Stone if you are enjoying the King's preparation!)