197: Three hundred million people died

After finishing up the business with the previous batch of goods, Shen Xiaochuan swiped his finger across the terminal.

The second batch of 200 million pieces of charcoal had already been listed.

The System notification that the transactions were complete came three minutes faster than he had expected.

Only when the gold coin balance jumped to 170 million did he finally let out a sigh of relief.

This money wasn't gained for nothing; it was earned by risking his life.

Outside, it was still windy and snowing.

On the surveillance screen, streetlights illuminated the empty streets.

The patrol team members walked with their necks hunched, their exhaled Qi turning into ice crystals the moment it left their mouths.

Skydome City was fine; the heating was on and the electricity was sufficient.

However, messages on the Blue Star Channel kept popping up one after another, all asking for help.

[Minus sixty degrees! We can't hold on anymore!]

[Seventeen Believers have frozen to death, the temple is iced over, and the circuits are all cut!]

[Who has charcoal? I'll trade iron ore for it!]

Shen Xiaochuan did not reply.

He knew that these people would trade anything right now, as long as they could survive.

He also knew that tomorrow at 9:00 AM, once the 60 million pieces of charcoal were listed, the trading area would descend into chaos again.

He opened the satellite map to check the situation in the Eastern Barren Forest Belt.

The area of the dead forest was much larger than expected, resembling a patch of scorched earth.

Shen Yan sent data every two hours.

The latest update read: Over 8 million logs harvested, charcoal kilns have been operating continuously, and they can produce 75 million pieces of charcoal a day.

That was enough.

As long as the weather didn't get any worse, it would be fine.

But the heavens did not listen to human wishes.

At 3:17 AM, the alarm sounded.

The cold front was arriving faster than expected and would reach Skydome City within twelve hours.

The minimum temperature was set to drop below minus eighty degrees.

This wasn't ordinary cold; it was a cold wave capable of cracking rocks.

Shen Xiaochuan stood up, walked to the main console, and checked all the power lines.

The electricity was normal, the heating was normal, and the backup generators were on standby.

He opened the subordinate divine domain list, selected the five closest to the cold wave, and allocated a quota of 5 million pieces of charcoal to each, marking them as "Emergency Advance," allowing them to take the goods first and pay later.

After finishing this, he sat back down and took a sip of cold tea.

The tea was a bit bitter, but he swallowed it anyway.

At 8:43 AM, the Blue Star Channel started flooding with messages.

This time, it wasn't about buying charcoal, but reporting deaths.

[The Northern Divine Domain is no longer responding; their Godhood might be frozen.]

[The three cities in the West have lost contact; the last message transmitted was "thermometer off the charts."]

[Current statistics show 200 million deities dead globally, mostly due to the extreme cold and lack of electricity.]

Seeing these messages, Shen Xiaochuan's face remained expressionless.

He knew what others said about him.

Some called him a villain for profiting from the disaster, while others waited to see him run out of stock and make a fool of himself.

He didn't care.

He only cared about one thing—ensuring the supply did not stop.

At 9:00 sharp, he listed 60 million pieces of charcoal on time.

The price remained unchanged at 0.5 gold coins per piece.

Each person could buy a maximum of 100,000 pieces.

As soon as the System opened, over 5,000 orders flooded in.

The server lagged for two seconds, then returned to normal.

The first batch of goods sold out in four and a half minutes.

He didn't stop.

At 3:00 PM, he listed another 60 million.

At 8:00 PM, he listed another 60 million.

Three times a day, fixed times, fixed quantities.

The trading area slowly quieted down.

It wasn't that no one wanted it, but everyone had gotten used to it—as long as you scrambled for it on time, you could buy it.

On the third day, the temperature really dropped to minus eighty degrees.

On the monitor, the snow blowing from the distant mountains scraped the ground like knives.

A stray dog lay motionless under the eaves, covered in frost.

The roof of an old outpost outside the city had collapsed; the ice was too thick for it to bear.

The messages on the Blue Star Channel changed.

It was no longer about cursing the United States for messing up the mission, but about gratitude.

[Skydome City saved us! We made it through the coldest night thanks to your charcoal!]

[Long live the Huaxia Alliance! The exotic beast meat gave us the strength to withstand the cold!]

[I suggest we establish a "Heater Day" to remember the help from God King Shen Xiaochuan!]

Seeing this, Shen Xiaochuan didn't even blink.

He knew there were still people cursing him, calling him a capitalist profiting from disaster.

Others said he would inevitably run out of stock sooner or later.

He didn't care about any of it.

He only did one thing: continue supplying goods.

News came from the Azure Dragon Legion that Shen Yan was leading people to work in shifts, with the number of trees felled daily stabilizing at over 8 million.

The number of workers had increased to 5,000, and the charcoal kilns were running around the clock.

There was enough wood, enough manpower, and the production lines hadn't broken down.

Everything inside Skydome City was normal.

The Hospital was open, the nursery was open, and the cafeteria was open.

The heating was sufficient, and the electricity had never been cut.

Residents dressed warmly when going out, with no fear of freezing to death.

Children went to school as usual, and workers went to work as usual.

On the morning of the fourth day, the System popped up a notification: The Huaxia Alliance had gained six more members, totaling thirty-seven nations.

Those six, who had originally hesitated about whether to join, were now actively applying, promising to share resources and fight the disaster together.

Shen Xiaochuan clicked agree and conveniently added them to the priority supply list, marking them as "Strategic Partners."

Just as he closed the window, his phone vibrated.

It was a message from White Snow Princess.

"Do you really intend to keep selling?"

He replied: "Until no one needs it anymore."

"But gold coins aren't worth anything anymore. Now, three gold coins can't even get you a jin of salt."

"I know," he typed. "But I can't give it away for free. Once it's free, things will turn chaotic. Some will hoard, some will scramble, and some will scam. As it is now, whoever has the money buys it; it's fair."

"But what about those poor places? They really don't have money."

"I've already provided an advance quota," he said, pointing to the records. "Five subordinate divine domains have taken 23 million pieces without paying yet. I'm not pressing them; I'm letting them have some breathing room."

White Snow Princess was silent for a few seconds, then replied with one word: "Fine."

Shen Xiaochuan closed the chat and looked up at the clock.

Seven minutes to nine.

He opened the Faith Mall backend, preparing to list today's 60 million pieces of charcoal.

Just as his finger touched the confirm button, a server-wide announcement popped up on the Blue Star Channel:

[Global deity population update: 3.2 billion remaining, 300 million died within three days.]

He stopped his movement and stared at that line of text for three seconds.

Three hundred million people were gone.

These weren't just numbers; they were living, breathing people.

There were the elderly, the young, the strong, and the weak.

Some might have just gone out to fetch water and collapsed on the road.

Some were guarding their last piece of charcoal, and when the fire went out, they never woke up either.

He touched the copper gear pendant on his cuff.

The pendant was very cold, with some old blood and dust on it.

His finger returned to the screen, and he pressed confirm.

Goods successfully listed.

As soon as the countdown ended, orders poured in like a tide.

The System was running smoothly without any lag.

When the notification for the first successful transaction popped up, he heard cheers coming from outside.

He turned his head to look out the window.

At some point, the snow had stopped.

The wind had died down, the clouds had split open, and sunlight shone down, landing on the sign of a small shop at the street corner.

The shop was called "Skydome Hot Soup," with a long line at the door, everyone holding a bowl in their hands, exhaling white mist from their mouths.

As the patrol team passed by, a soldier took off his glove and waved in the direction of the main control room.

Shen Xiaochuan didn't move, nor did he smile.

He sat back in his chair and opened the transaction report.

The account balance displayed: 213.4 million.

He took one look and closed the interface.

His phone vibrated again.

It was a message from Shen Yan.

[A new dead forest area has been discovered on the west side of the Eastern Barren Forest Belt, with a larger area. We are sending people to investigate. Expected daily production can reach 90 million pieces. Should we expand production?]

He replied: "Expand. But be careful. If the wind and snow are too heavy, retreat."

After sending it, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

The room was very quiet.

There was only the sound of the machines and the notification sound of the screen refreshing.

Ten minutes later, he opened his eyes and opened the global temperature map.

The coldest part of the cold wave had passed, and the temperature was slowly rising.

The area at minus eighty degrees was shrinking, and in some places, it had returned to around minus fifty degrees.

The people who survived could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

He opened the Faith Mall to prepare the deployment plan for tomorrow.

The quantity remained the same, and the timing remained the same.

He didn't want people to think he would stop.

His finger slid across the screen, then suddenly stopped.

On the homepage of the Blue Star Channel, a post had been pinned to the very top.

The title was: [We owe Shen Xiaochuan a thank you].

Below it were hundreds of thousands of replies.

He read one, then closed it.

The lights in the room were still on.

Outside the window, dawn was breaking, and there were more people on the streets.

A delivery truck drove past, with the words "Skydome Energy Delivery" printed on its body, its tires pressing against the thin ice as it moved steadily forward.