Chapter 2: End-of-the-World Emergency Call

The next day, when the sky brightened, it was already 1:00 p.m.

The darkness receded; there was no sunrise—only a slanted, clear day above.

Daylight arrived an hour later than yesterday. Calculating by Jincheng’s daylight saving time, if sunset occurs around 6:45 p.m., then in just five more days, dawn will cease to appear here.

Inside the apartment, Lin Xian tucked his short knife into his backpack, leapt from the balcony into the adjacent room, followed the predetermined route in a circuitous descent, and entered a subway tunnel through the underground civil defense access.

This was the maintenance section of the original University City Station; after the apocalypse, it had completely shut down.

The zombies on the platform had all been cleared by Lin Xian; this place had become his train preparation zone.

Lin Xian walked deep into the tunnel, where, on the weathered, poorly maintained rails, a massive Whale 03e heavy gas turbine locomotive sat parked.

This 200-ton steel behemoth was Lin Xian’s secret weapon for escaping the polar night!

Click~

He switched on his flashlight; a white beam pierced the dark, hollow tunnel. Gazing at the colossal machine before him, his unease swelled.

This masterpiece, developed thirty years ago by Alstom Transportation and China North Rail Group, was built on Alstom’s “Prima” locomotive platform as a high-power, ten-cylinder gas turbine freight locomotive.

The locomotive exceeded 36 meters in length and 3.2 meters in width; beneath its majestic frame lay astonishing power—a traction output of 18,500 horsepower, equivalent to the combined force of dozens of supercars, capable of hauling tens of thousands of tons of cargo!

This was nearly the perfect platform for Lin Xian’s mechanical ability; this discovery had sparked his Infinite Train Plan.

“Check the drive shaft, brake shoes, power turbine…”

Lin Xian’s Mechanical Heart had three basic skills: Mechanical Scan, Mechanical Repair, and Mechanical Operation.

Simply put, any machine he touched, once he understood its principles, could be directly controlled, repaired, and scanned to generate a holographic blueprint—all three passive skills were unupgradeable.

The Whale 03e required fuel for primary drive and electricity for auxiliary power; fuel was now the scarcest resource in the apocalypse. Yet Lin Xian’s “Mechanical Heart” ability could directly power it using his own energy—no external source needed. This was incredibly advantageous.

However, output power was limited by his physical stamina; at his current limit, driving distance remained constrained. But with himself as a human battery, combined with scavenging machinery and resources along the way, if he later acquired generators or even small nuclear power units, the energy problem would be permanently solved.

Beyond powering the locomotive, Lin Xian had already converted three freight cars into living quarters for storing supplies and daily use, all modified from original passenger cars.

Lin Xian reached the last car, placed his hand on its body, activated his Mechanical Heart, and a custom hydraulic lift plate descended. Inside the fourth car, a motorcycle was parked—intended for post-parking resource collection.

He climbed aboard, pulled down a welder, and beside the tracks lay a pile of steel: primarily rolled plates, high-hardness tungsten steel, and high-manganese steel—materials originally used for tank and armored vehicle plating, which he’d found in Jincheng’s Special Steel Factory warehouse, ideal for constructing his steel fortress.

Hum~

A holographic screen flickered before Lin Xian’s eyes, displaying several armor blueprints he’d drawn himself, along with firearm designs—such as a Glock 23 .40-inch pistol blueprint, acquired during a fight with bandits and converted into a blueprint via his [Mechanical Scan] skill.

But the problem was

“High-alloy chromium-molybdenum steel: 120 grams, basic steel: 300 grams, plastic: 195 grams…”

Lin Xian glanced at it and his head throbbed.

Compared to these scanned standard designs, his most convenient method was still DIY assembly using his Mechanical Fabrication skill and available materials.

Click~ Click~ Clang~!

A faint glow lit Lin Xian’s eyes; the steel before him suddenly floated into the air, then rapidly rolled, shaped, and fused under immense pressure. In just ten minutes, a 1.5x0.9-meter composite armor plate appeared before him.

Manufacturing and assembly demanded extreme focus, and since he was alone, Lin Xian could only concentrate on train preparation during daylight hours.

Hours passed; several sets of grille-equipped, double-layer composite armor “outer windows” were finally assembled. Lin Xian then wheeled out a mobile mini-crane from the rear car, moved each heavy armor plate to the car’s edge, and began welding them in place.

The Whale 03e’s heavy gas turbine locomotive cab was connected to all rear cars, each equipped with isolation gates.

He named the entire train “Infinite.” The first car was modified into a basic living area, housing most of his collected supplies. The second car remained vacant—he planned to use it for growing crops and cultivating green plants.

Ideally, he wanted a water-oxygen recycling plant cultivation zone, but Lin Xian knew nothing about it, so he left it empty. The third car held tools, the motorcycle, the crane, the welder, and space for future material storage.

As he worked feverishly on his mobile fortress, his phone suddenly vibrated.

Lin Xian jolted—most satellites were dead, satellite communication rarely worked anymore. He kept his phone powered solely for data, maps, and emergencies, yet somehow a call still came through.

He answered; a tense female voice came through.

“Lin Xian, are you still in Jincheng? I… I want to join your rail train plan.”

The caller was Chen Sixuan, Lin Xian’s university professor. In the days after the apocalypse, she was the only person he’d managed to contact from his contacts list.

Chen Sixuan was twenty-seven, beautiful as a flower, unmarried. In Jincheng’s culture of early marriage and childbearing, she was a rarity.

In memory, this foreign language professor was tall, from a highly educated family, a classic urban white, rich, and beautiful—adored by all in the college.

At first, Lin Xian had mentioned his train plan to her, but she’d rejected it—he hadn’t revealed his ability, making the plan sound unbelievable. Back then, Chen Sixuan still clung to the naive hope that rescue teams would come for her.

But after Jincheng’s first polar night, countless people died in despair; eerie horrors in the darkness devoured survivors’ last shreds of sanity. Lin Xian had witnessed the collapse of social order and the depths of human depravity. In this environment, women without abilities were worth less than a can of gasoline in survival groups.

He’d assumed Chen Sixuan had either left with a group or died. Receiving her call now surprised him—if she hadn’t escaped, how had she survived this long?

In a nearby apartment, doors locked, curtains drawn, Chen Sixuan sat huddled in the sofa’s corner, hair disheveled, wearing home clothes, her expression tense. She stared at her phone’s last sliver of battery. Her once-plump, warm lips were now pale and trembling.

For two months, she’d endured the darkest period of her life: food gone, endless night.

Every night, terrifying sounds jolted her awake; she’d grown mentally fractured, her body visibly thinner.

At first, she waited for official rescue teams. Former admirers even brought supplies to her door. But when she realized the world’s order had collapsed and polar night had come, she understood she was trapped.

So she began to plead.

After the polar night, most of Jincheng vanished as if erased; those remaining were fleeing. The few groups willing to take her demanded she send a nude photo first to prove her worth.

Only then did she fully realize: she was no longer the beloved professor of her university, no longer the coveted Chen Sixuan of Jincheng’s elite. She was a burden. In this apocalypse, even with some beauty, she had to offer herself willingly just to earn a glance.

Just as Chen Sixuan was at her wit’s end, she remembered Lin Xian.

All power banks were dead; her phone had only a sliver of charge left.

At this moment, any insane plan—even just a connected call—was hope.

“Professor Chen, are you alright?”

Lin Xian’s voice on the other end was calm and steady; instantly, Chen Sixuan’s tension eased. “Lin student, I… I’m still alive. Are you… still in Jincheng?”

Chen Sixuan bit her finger tightly.

Long silence. Then Lin Xian’s voice came again.

“Yes.”

Chen Sixuan shuddered, released a long breath, hope flickering in her eyes. She hurriedly asked into the phone:

“Where are you? Can you come get me…”

She immediately regretted it.

The words sounded ridiculous. She recalled contacting a group planning to flee east a few days ago—she’d blurted the same thing. They’d mocked her, saying: “It’s this bad now, and you still think you’re a princess?”

She quickly corrected herself: “No no no… I mean, where are you? Can I come to you?”

To survive, she had to risk everything. Otherwise, when her phone died, she had only two choices: stay in the apartment and die, or wander out and be torn apart by zombies.

“Professor Chen,” Lin Xian’s voice came through, “Do you have supplies? Or have you awakened an ability?”

Hearing this, Chen Sixuan’s heart turned cold.

!

She looked around her empty apartment, lips trembling, voice nearly breaking into sobs: “N-no… nothing.”

“If… if you want me…”

Chen Sixuan never imagined she’d one day beg her own student in such a groveling tone.

But before she could finish, Lin Xian interrupted: “Sorry, Professor Chen. My supplies are limited. To join my plan, you must offer value. Sexual favors mean nothing to me.”

Since no one believed his train plan, he’d build his escape alone. He wasn’t doing this out of kindness.

Lin Xian’s voice was flat, offering immense security—and crushing despair to Chen Sixuan.

“Alright…”

“Good luck, Professor Chen.” Lin Xian’s expression was cold; he sighed inwardly, preparing to hang up.

On the other end, Chen Sixuan’s body turned icy. Just as Lin Xian was about to end the call, she suddenly grabbed the phone, screaming:

“Wait!”

She widened her eyes, chest heaving, shouted:

“The Ring Orbital began construction in 2039. Originating from China, it covers 126 countries and 34 regions worldwide, spanning the Nine Continents and Four Oceans, including all thirteen Star Abyss Collapse Zones currently known. Its total length exceeds 320,000 kilometers. My father was a Level-One Maintenance Engineer for the Ring Orbital. I know all 1,266 docking stations and 625 maintenance backup track segments.”

“Also, I’m fluent in multiple languages—I can serve as your translator. I eat very little, and I can cook. Just… just take me with you, and I’ll fulfill any demand you have!”

For the last part, she screamed with every ounce of strength she had!

Silence stretched on the other end.

Chen Sixuan’s body trembled, nails digging into her thighs until blood welled.

“Location. I’ll come get you.”

Six simple words. Chen Sixuan felt dizzy; snapping back, she blurted urgently:

“I… I’m at Yushui Huayuan, Building 3, Unit 901, Jiangzhou Road!”

Beep~

Before she could repeat the address, her phone screen went black and died.

She tapped it again—no response. Uncertain if he’d heard her address, she bit her lower lip until it bled.

“Ah!”

She screamed, hurling the phone against the wall—it shattered into pieces.

“He heard. He must have heard…”

At that moment, Chen Sixuan could only reassure herself. To fight her despair, she immediately rose and began searching her home for all books related to the Ring Orbital.

On the other side, Lin Xian stared at the disconnected call and sighed.

Once, he’d admired and revered Professor Chen. Now, she begged him in a tone of near-desperation, even offering herself sexually. This hellish apocalypse had turned people into monsters.

Chen Sixuan’s words had moved him. The Ring Orbital encircled the entire planet, filled with unknowns. Having someone familiar with its routes was better than navigating with dead maps. Besides, maps wouldn’t mark maintenance segments or special junctions.

And more importantly, Chen Sixuan was someone he knew. In the apocalypse, people naturally formed bonds—and familiar faces were easiest to trust.

He put away his phone, checked the time, and immediately returned to welding.

There wasn’t enough time today. Train preparation couldn’t be delayed.

Beep, beep~

18:00, 45 minutes until nightfall.

Lin Xian, drenched in sweat, gazed at the tank-thick armored windows on both sides of the third carriage, filled with pride.

“Next come the generator, heating equipment, water purification systems, refrigerators, a full smart surveillance system…”

“And armed defenses, automated firepower, radar systems, and so on…”

“Oh, and the living area needs a big bed, a bathtub—better still, plan a recreation zone, a gaming area. Don’t you store tens of thousands of movies, TV shows, and games?”

Lin Xian’s eyes grew brighter and brighter; at this moment, he felt even more strongly.

In this apocalypse, life is becoming increasingly hopeful!

New book, please bookmark and follow!

(End of chapter)