The apartment was no longer a home; it was a construction site fueled by vengeance and anticipation. Three days remained until the end of the world. Lin Fan's remaining time was spent in a hyper-focused, state-of-the-art transformation.
The renovation crew, bribed into silence by Thompson's tacit approval and Lin Fan's excessive cash payments, worked tirelessly. Lin Fan, however, did not rely on their competence alone. He supervised every weld, every bolt, every wire himself.
Phase 2: Building the Fortress
The biggest hurdle was the main entrance. Lin Fan's hired crew had managed to remove the standard issue wooden door and its frame. In its place, they were installing what looked like the entrance to a bank vault.
This wasn't just a security door; it was a Class Five Composite Steel Vault Door, six inches thick, designed to withstand controlled explosions and sustained pneumatic attacks. Its weight was immense, requiring specialized hydraulic jacks to move it into position.
"We've anchored the frame into the surrounding load-bearing concrete walls with carbon fiber rebar, sir," the foreman, a gruff man named Manny, reported, wiping sweat from his brow. "The hydraulic locking bolts are secured. This door, Lin, will survive a localized tremor. Why on earth you need this, I don't—"
"Silence, Manny," Lin Fan interrupted softly, sliding an extra $1,000 into his hand. "Just tell me about the seal."
"Ah, yes. The seal," Manny quickly pocketed the money. "It's airtight. A positive pressure inflation seal. When engaged, nothing gets in, not water, not air, not even a particle of dust. With the air filtration unit you installed, you could sit inside for a year without recirculating stale air."
Perfect. Lin Fan needed the airtight seal not just for defense, but to maintain a stable, non-freezing internal temperature regardless of the atmospheric chaos outside.
Inside the apartment, Lin Fan had supervised the installation of the Independent Power Grid. The three diesel generators were located on a specially reinforced section of the balcony, encased in sound-dampening insulation. He had also installed massive solar panels on the roof of the apartment building—a blatant, unauthorized seizure of communal property. The batteries connected to the solar grid were powerful enough to run his lighting, heating, and communications for short periods, reserving the diesel generators for the brutal winter peaks.
He installed a sophisticated, silent air filtration and recirculation system. This unit was key; in his past life, many people died not just from the cold, but from the buildup of carbon monoxide after improperly burning materials for heat inside their sealed homes. Lin Fan's system pulled air from an armored chimney disguised as a standard vent, cycling it through medical-grade HEPA and chemical filters.
The apartment walls, which Thompson had been so worried about, were lined with thin layers of sound-dampening foam and then overlaid with fire-resistant, high-density insulation. He wanted to be warm, and he wanted to be silent. When the world outside turned into a cacophony of screams and desperation, Lin Fan would hear nothing but the faint hum of his own systems.
He spent the next day wiring the Security Array. He installed hidden, military-grade thermal and night-vision cameras peering out of tiny pinholes in the outer wall. He wasn't just tracking people; he needed to track the meteorological chaos outside without opening his shelter.
The apartment was transforming from a rental unit into a self-sustaining, fortified ecosystem.
The Necessary Evil: Acquiring Firepower
Lin Fan's capital was dwindling, but the most important purchase remained: weapons. In the Global Freeze, the mobs were the immediate threat. David, the bully from his past life, hadn't just had a knife; he had a gang. Lin Fan needed overwhelming, decisive firepower.
Buying legal firearms would leave a paper trail—a trace that might lead the surviving authorities (if any) to his doorstep. He wouldn't risk it.
He drove three hours to a rundown, forgotten industrial district on the edge of the city. He was meeting a contact known only through encrypted channels—a shadowy arms dealer specializing in untraceable, black-market sales.
Lin Fan approached the transaction with clinical detachment. He wasn't scared; he was calculating. He knew the risk was minimal. In three days, this man and his illicit business would be buried under snow, their debts and crimes wiped clean by the catastrophe.
He met the dealer, a scarred, muscular man named Vex, in an empty warehouse. Vex's eyes were cold and professional as he laid out the merchandise.
"You said you needed a 'Survival Package,' Mr. Lin. I guarantee this will help you survive anything short of a direct missile strike."
Lin Fan ignored the small-talk. He looked at the weaponry displayed on the table:
Two AR-15 assault rifles with multiple high-capacity magazines.
A Mossberg 590 pump-action shotgun (perfect for close-quarters defense).
Two Glock 17 pistols with silencers and extended clips.
Thousands of rounds of specialized ammunition (armor-piercing and tracer rounds).
High-grade Kevlar body armor and two ballistic helmets.
Lin Fan ran a practiced hand over the cold steel of the AR-15. Cold, ruthless tools for a cold, ruthless world.
"The total is $110,000," Vex stated.
Lin Fan didn't haggle. He counted out the cash in $1,000 bundles, his gaze never leaving Vex.
"One final addition," Lin Fan stated. "I need several packages of military-grade C4 explosives. Small, timed charges."
Vex raised an eyebrow. "That's... not standard for a 'Survival Package.' That's for warfare."
"I am preparing for a very specific type of warfare," Lin Fan replied, the chilling lack of emotion in his voice making Vex pause. "You won't ask, I won't tell. Add $10,000 to the total."
The transaction was swift. As soon as the cash left Lin Fan's hand, the heavy bags of weapons vanished from the table and into the secure, time-frozen safety of his Dimensional Storage. Vex didn't even notice the rapid disappearance; he was too busy counting the thick stacks of bills.
Lin Fan left the warehouse with a deep sense of satisfaction. He was no longer just a prepper; he was a fortress, both physically and morally.
The Icy Hang-Up
Lin Fan returned to his heavily secured apartment. He was cleaning the dust from his new ballistic vest when his old laptop, which he was using only for social media surveillance, beeped with a notification.
It was an instant message on a rarely used platform. Lin Fan almost missed it.
[Sarah has sent you a message.]
Lin Fan stared at the screen. Sarah. His former "Goddess," his betrayer, his executioner. She must have exhausted every other means of contact.
He clicked on the message thread.
Sarah: Hi Lin Fan, I know you blocked my number, but I had to reach out. I know we haven't talked properly, and I miss our friendship. I saw you were doing some major renovations? I was hoping you could do me a huge favor. My bank account is frozen due to some technical issues, and I need $1,000 urgently for a family emergency. I promise I'll pay you back next month! [Followed by a cute crying emoji]
Lin Fan read the message twice. The sheer, naked entitlement made his stomach churn. A "family emergency." In a month, the "family emergency" would be their last breath, and she was worried about a technical bank freeze.
He felt a deep, slow fire ignite in his chest. This was it. The moment of catharsis.
Lin Fan began typing. He didn't type an aggressive rant or a vengeful threat. He typed with surgical precision.
Lin Fan: You're right, Sarah. I'm building something very strong. A place where only the prepared, the loyal, and the useful are welcome. Regarding your $1,000 issue: I am feeling generous. I will lend you the money, but I require collateral for such a high-risk investment.
He waited five seconds. Sarah instantly replied.
Sarah: Oh my God, thank you, Lin Fan! You're a lifesaver! What collateral do you need? My vintage handbag? My jewelry?
Lin Fan smiled, a truly malicious, ugly smile.
Lin Fan: No, jewelry is worthless. I want something more personal. I know you live on the tenth floor of your complex. On July 14th, at precisely 3:00 AM, the temperature will drop below -50°C. I want ownership of your thickest winter coat and your largest supply of clean water. You must deliver them to my door on July 13th at 11:59 PM. If you fail, the interest on the $1,000 will increase by 10,000% daily. If you succeed, I'll transfer the money now.
Lin Fan knew exactly what would happen. Sarah would read the nonsensical date and the crazy temperature, assume Lin Fan had completely lost his mind, and mock him. The terms were ridiculous, but the "cash now" bait was too tempting.
Sarah: Lin Fan, seriously? What is this temperature talk? Are you drinking? Fine, July 13th at midnight. Whatever. Just transfer the money! You are so weird!
Lin Fan: Transaction complete. Enjoy your $1,000. And Sarah, do try to keep that promise. The winter coming is going to be unforgiving.
He transferred the money and then immediately deleted the entire conversation thread, permanently blocked her on every platform, and smashed the cheap laptop with a hammer.
He looked at the digital clock on his secured monitor: July 11th.
Two more days. Two more days of silence, security, and preparation. He had his fortress. He had his weapons. And the first payment of his revenge had just been delivered.
Lin Fan walked to the vault door, engaged the main locking mechanism, and listened to the satisfying THUNK as the six-inch steel sealed him off from the ignorant world.
(Author's Note: The shelter is sealed, and the revenge plot is set! Who will Lin Fan face next: the bully David, or the harshness of the Global Freeze itself? Keep reading! Show your support with a Power Stone and tell me what you think of Lin Fan's brutal decision!)