Chapter 47: Unceasing

No wonder Tang Hai could be so bold in the fog and darkness—all those monsters wouldn’t harm him…

Lin Xian’s mind cleared—he had been right to doubt it back then; it seemed Tang Hai had been injured at the time, emitting blood scent, which drew the zombies to attack him, yet that very attack triggered his evolution.

Realizing this, he felt a pang of regret—he should have blown the old beast’s head off right away, instead of leaving behind a lingering threat.

Yet at this moment, he was also grateful he’d chosen to repair the CIWS to save his life—it had been utterly correct.

At the time, Kiki had been unconscious; alone, he could never have handled both the mist spider and Feng Yuming, let alone the overwhelming horde of zombies. Fortunately, neither Tang Hai nor Feng Yuming could operate the complex CIWS system, nor had they removed any critical equipment—otherwise, tonight would have been a death trap for Lin Xian and Kiki.

Back to the point, Lin Xian looked at Kiki: “So you know how your ability upgrades?”

To his surprise, Kiki smiled faintly and shook her head: “I think mine might be psychic or telekinetic—rare types in the records—but I have no idea how to upgrade it, or how to complete that ‘ritual.’”

“As for you…” Kiki turned her gaze to Lin Xian, her expression strange. “Honestly, I don’t even know what type you are. You can control machinery—that’s a functional ability. Though such abilities don’t usually score high in Dangling value, the ‘Angel Project’ labeled them as having ‘extremely high strategic value.’ I’d guess you’re closer to Type 27: Inorganic Matter Control—but how can you also use elemental abilities?”

As she spoke, Kiki’s frown deepened. “Could you have more than one ability?”

“Guess…”

Lin Xian said flatly, his heart suddenly chilled—he had a strong, inexplicable feeling that this… wasn’t an ability at all.

What kind of ability has a progress bar?

“There’s another thing,” Kiki said. “A handful of ability users have reportedly lost their powers entirely—even some Gold Rank individuals.”

“Lost entirely? What does that mean?”

“How should I know… the records don’t say,” Kiki muttered. “All we know is that, without any external interference, ability users suddenly lost their powers. The Research Bureau suspects it’s tied to their mindset or mental state, but no one’s found the real cause.”

Kiki's information gave Lin Xian a profoundly transformative understanding of the current world. Yet beneath the collapse of post-apocalyptic order—even after just a few months—ability users had become a massive group, directly shaping humanity's survival trajectory.

After a whole night of turmoil, everyone was exhausted. Out of caution, Lin Xian ordered the train to maintain a low speed of around 50 km/h. Chen Sixuan took the driver’s cabin watch, while he rested there too.

“Kiki seems to have a lot of secrets,” Chen Sixuan said, watching Lin Xian nap.

“Everyone has secrets. As long as they help us, we don’t need to dig too deep.”

“What… did she just tell you?” Chen Sixuan’s gaze flickered. She knew this question was hard to ask, yet she couldn’t suppress her curiosity.

Lin Xian closed his eyes and scoffed. “What else? She made me promise not to kiss her unless she wants it.”

Chen Sixuan let out a complex “Mm.”

She didn’t even know if she and Lin Xian were in a “willing or unwilling” relationship—she only knew she was grateful he’d saved her. He was now her only anchor.

And he was quite good—seemed to match the type of personality she liked. So she didn’t really resist the idea of it happening.

Was this the so-called suspension bridge effect?

Oh, where did her thoughts wander to…

“Yesterday’s sunrise was at 16:26. We’ve traveled about 50 kilometers toward Beiwan Station. If our calculations hold, to reach our destination by 16:00 tomorrow, we need to cover at least 370 kilometers.”

Chen Sixuan kept calculating on her travel log: “But the JY3365 route detours through Quan Pass and Yuchicheng. Comparing our position relative to Starfall 3, Lucheng, and Dingzhou against the straight line from Jiang City…”

“Chen Laoshi.”

Lin Xian interrupted her calculations, eyes half-closed. “Do you think Starfall 3 might not be the source of the Dark Tide?”

At this, Chen Sixuan fell silent for a moment.

“I… don’t know.”

From a geometric standpoint, if every Starfall was expanding the Dark Tide at the same rate, their radii would grow linearly over time across the surface of Blue Planet.

“If the affected range of each Starfall were fixed, humanity might still find narrow survival gaps between them. But if the first Eternal Night isn’t the end—if the second tide expands further—then total coverage of Blue Planet by Eternal Night is merely a matter of time.” After Eternal Night, networks and communications collapse. As ordinary people, they could not observe the world’s full state—only gather clues from radio broadcasts.

Without Kiki, they wouldn’t even know the Federation had classified ability users and established standards.

Lin Xian nodded, his expression uneasy. If this were true, then no one could escape. Humanity could only fumble its way toward survival in the darkness.

Chen Sixuan, watching Lin Xian’s worried face, suddenly asked: “Lin Xueyuan, do you remember Jiangda’s motto?”

Lin Xian looked at her. Without speaking, they both said at once:

“Striving is an unceasing task since the dawn of humanity!”

Long silence. Then they smiled at each other.

As the wheels turned, everyone fled the darkness toward dawn. Even if eternal night ultimately claimed them, as long as the last spark of survival remained, they must never cease fighting.

Lin Xian’s heart steadied. If he grew stronger, he could survive even in endless night—this only strengthened his resolve to build the ultimate fortress train!

Whoo~

The fog ahead thinned; the headlights revealed a broader view. Lin Xian rose, gazing at the distant hills, his expression relaxing. He slowed the train and pulled into a tunnel.

“Why stop?” Chen Sixuan frowned at him.

!

Before she could react, Lin Xian swept her up in a bridal carry, smiling lightly. “Chen Laoshi, there’s one more thing humanity has never ceased since its beginning.”

“…”

Chen Sixuan was caught off guard, her face instantly flushed. She averted her eyes; her once-pale ears and neck now glowed like peach blossoms in March.

“Aren’t you tired…?”

Lin Xian carried her to the bed in Car 1, energized. “Suddenly full of energy.”

All compartment doors were sealed. Car 1 was now exclusively Lin Xian’s living space.

Chen Sixuan’s face flushed, voice barely a whisper: “Ah, um…”

“ inconvenient?”

“N-no.”

Her skin was smooth as lamb’s fat jade, yet as Lin Xian’s lips brushed it, even amid the apocalypse, he caught that intoxicating feminine scent—faint, stirring the soul.

Chen Sixuan felt a tingling numbness along her spine. His breath brushed her skin, cool and penetrating, seeping into her pores, filling her with shameful, irresistible desire.

She buried her face in the blanket, murmuring: “…Get… get my bag. There’s… there’s something inside.”

“Alright.”

“Mmm… slower… mmm…”

The heavy train rested silently beneath the night. Outside, thick armored steel met the deep, terrifying darkness of the tunnel. Inside, warm lamplight glowed over downy soft beds, brimming with safety.

Their bodies entwined, shattering the taboo between male and female souls—one tall and lean, the other supple and delicate—their intertwined forms rose and fell like a charging war vehicle, like a giant wheel breaking waves…

Night was ink-black. In Car 2, Lou Shasha slept deeply on the upper bunk. Beneath the pillow on the lower bunk, Kiki’s face burned red as she felt the strange rhythm from next door. She gritted her teeth, muttering curses under her breath, drawing circles in her mind to damn that bastard.

She decided: tomorrow, she’d install soundproof panels in Car 2—and weld on an extra steel layer!

New author, please follow and recommend!

(End of Chapter)