The aircraft roared as it soared into the clouds, the engine's vibrations gradually settling into a steady hum.
Lin Chen leaned against the slightly stiff seat in the economy class cabin, exhaling a long, slow breath—one he felt he had been holding for fifteen full days.
From Los Angeles to New York, from clearing out the Great Lakes in Duluth, to sweeping through the Japanese archipelago, until finally boarding this flight back home...
He had been like a pre-programmed apocalypse harvester, conducting an almost frenzied "clearance" across American and Japanese territories:
Supermarket shelves were stripped bare, military port supplies vanished into thin air, Great Lakes water levels plummeted dramatically, and even Maritime Self-Defense Force vessels "mysteriously disappeared"...
Just the civilian supplies alone were of incalculable value, not to mention the tens of thousands of tons of cargo ships, destroyers, and entire armories that had quietly taken up residence in his Infinite Space.
This "account" had likely long exceeded the trillion-dollar mark.
Across the ocean, the two nations were now shrouded in gloom.
American supermarkets stood so empty you could see your reflection, with housewives squabbling over the last roll of toilet paper; the FBI director roared during hearings: "This is no ordinary theft—this is a terrorist attack on our nation's lifeline!"
Japanese convenience stores had been out of rice balls for three consecutive days, with young people lamenting: "What's the point of life without nori rice balls?"
The "Special Investigation Headquarters for the Phantom Sweeper" urgently established by the Metropolitan Police Department still couldn't retrieve a single frame of useful surveillance footage.
The online world had completely exploded—
"North American supermarkets turned into empty shells overnight—even the mops are gone!"
"The Great Lakes nearly drained dry? Are aliens coming to Earth for construction projects?"
"Tokyo tycoons weeping: My thirty-year sake collection—even the bottles were taken!""
The comment sections were in chaos:
"This has to be doomsday prophets making their move early!"
"No, this is clearly the ultimate warehouse manager and moving crew combined!"
"Please take me in, master! I can cook and warm your bed—my survival instincts are strong!!"
Meanwhile, the mastermind behind it all, Lin Chen, sat with his eyes closed, his expression calm and gentle, appearing no different from any other weary passenger returning home.
Only he knew that he was silently reciting that slightly playful adaptation in his mind:
"I come softly, as I softly go, waving my sleeves, not leaving behind a single cloud—but taking all your inventory with me."
The apocalypse was less than five days away.
"After this, the populations of America and Japan that survive into the post-apocalyptic era will likely be less than ten percent of what they were in my previous life."
A faint smile flickered at the corner of his mouth, though no ripple of emotion stirred within him.
In his previous life, when the Zombie Blood Rain fell, America had been in the deep of night, resulting in more initial survivors who, after gaining Special Abilities, actually developed ambitions to dominate the world...
Meanwhile, the Japanese, after sea levels rose, attempted to land on the mainland again through Korea. Though they were ultimately exterminated by the Special Ability experts of Northeast China, they still inflicted heavy casualties.
All he had done now was merely collecting a trivial "interest" in advance.
Just as his thoughts wandered, a clear, gentle voice sounded beside him:
"Sir, would you like something to drink?"
Lin Chen slowly opened his eyes. When he clearly saw the face before him, his pupils abruptly contracted, an uncontrollable flicker of astonishment crossing his features—he had seen this person in his previous life!
The flight attendant standing before him had a classic oval face, simple pearl earrings dangling beside her ears, and her hair was impeccably styled in a neat bun.
Her makeup was subtle yet refined, her eyebrows and eyes gentle and graceful, with a perfectly professional smile gracing her lips—her beauty could only be described as exceptional.
She stood approximately 1.72 meters tall, her deep blue uniform elegantly accentuating her slender waist and delicate curves, every movement exuding trained elegance and restraint.
Her name tag bore two neatly printed Chinese characters: Li Ya.
Seeing that Lin Chen didn't respond immediately, she repeated softly with a smile, "Sir, would you like something to drink?"
Lin Chen quickly concealed his unusual expression, regaining his composure as he smiled slightly. "A glass of plain water, thank you."
"Of course, please wait a moment."
She deftly retrieved a paper cup from the meal cart, poured hot water into it, and handed it over with both hands, her fingertips never touching the rim of the cup—her movements were fluid and gentle.
Then, she turned and continued pushing the meal cart to serve the next passenger.
Li Ya was already accustomed to passengers being momentarily stunned by her appearance.
In her view, this was just another stranger dazzled by her beauty—nothing more than a relatively polite admirer.
As she passed through business class, the so-called "successful individuals" were either loudly discussing business strategies or deliberately lowering their voices to take calls that showcased their status.
Some casually loosened their ties to flash expensive watches on their wrists—all gestures aimed at catching the attention of this exceptional flight attendant.
"I never expected to encounter her here," Lin Chen thought to himself, watching her graceful figure recede into the distance.
He had indeed met this woman in his previous life.
In the apocalypse, beauty was the cheapest bargaining chip, yet also the deadliest burden.
He had witnessed too many so-called "goddesses" reduced to playthings, slaves, or even transformed into Living Vessels for storing Crystalline Cores.
As for the men in business class now, flaunting their worldly "power"—everything they relied on would vanish in an instant when the collapsing world arrived.
However, there were still five days until the apocalypse. Order remained, and rules were still in place.
Someone like him, who appeared to be an ordinary "loser," could indeed only steal a distant glance at a woman like Li Ya.
Lin Chen smiled self-deprecatingly, closed his eyes again, and sank into his thoughts.
Five hours later, the plane landed smoothly at Baiyun Airport in Yangcheng.
Lin Chen took a taxi back to that familiar rented apartment.
Pushing open the door, a faint musty smell mixed with the scent of dust greeted him.
The first thing he did after entering was head straight to the bathroom and turn on the shower.
A stream of cold water poured down, washing away the sticky sweat and the grime from days of travel.
Wrapped in a towel, he stood before the mirror, water droplets rolling down the firm, well-proportioned lines of his shoulders and back.
His muscle contours were smooth and distinct, harboring the explosive power of a leopard, without an ounce of excess fat.
This body was far healthier and stronger than it had been in the early days of the apocalypse in his previous life.
"With this physique alone, without even using my Special Ability, I could take on thirty grown men single-handedly," he murmured to his reflection in the mirror.
In this life, thanks to the early awakening and repeated tempering of his special ability, his body had long surpassed the limits of an ordinary human.
He was no longer the insignificant ant from before, forced to survive through flattery, endurance, and a clumsy earth tunneling ability.
"Have a good sleep," he said to himself. "After the apocalypse arrives, even getting six consecutive hours of sleep will become a luxury."
Supplies were fully stocked, and the plan was steadily progressing. His heart, once shattered by betrayal and despair, finally felt a long-lost sense of peace.
This time, he slept exceptionally deeply.
No zombie roars pierced his dreams, no bone spurs whistled through the air, no maniacal laughter from Zhao Kai, no numb and hollow gaze from Li Qiang, and certainly not the cold, cruel eyes of Black Dragon...
Instead, there were only the occasional sounds of passing traffic outside the window, the rhythmic melody of "The Most Dazzling Ethnic Style" from the distant square, the daily bickering of the couple downstairs, and the intermittent notes from the neighbor's child practicing the piano...
These noises, which would become extinct after the apocalypse—the unique clamor of the "old world"—now felt like the gentlest lullaby, soothing his once-scarred soul.
It wasn't until two in the afternoon the next day, when the blazing sunlight filtered through the gaps in the blinds, casting alternating patterns of light and shadow on the floor, that he naturally woke up.
Stretching his body, his joints emitted a series of crisp cracking sounds, as if every inch of his muscles and bones were celebrating this complete rebirth.
After a simple wash, he changed into a clean, comfortable T-shirt and jeans. Locking the door, he walked downstairs.
Outside, the sun was bright, and a gentle breeze brushed against him.
With light steps, he headed straight for the corner shop—a decades-old, time-honored wonton noodle restaurant.