“It’s really fixed?!” Xu Jin exclaimed, hastily filling a cup with the precious clean water. He sniffed it carefully, his eyes lighting up. “Clean and clear—no strange odors. It’s definitely usable!”
“Of course,” Shu Qin said excitedly. “We’ve always relied on this purifier. If you boil the water after filtering, it’s perfectly safe to drink.”
“Great, great!” Xu Jin nodded, immediately picking up his walkie-talkie to summon his convoy for the trade.
“Thank you so much,” Shu Qin said gratefully, handing Lin Xian a large box of canned food. “You’ve been a huge help.”
Lin Xian accepted the box and replied, “It was nothing. I heard you’re heading to Yubei City too?”
“That’s right,” Shu Qin confirmed. “Yubei City is one of the gateway cities for the planetary orbital rail. Word is that the Dazhu Mountain Tunnel is blocked, so many people are trying to pass through there and head toward Xingcheng.”
Lin Xian fell into a moment of silence. It seemed most people were choosing to flee to one of Longguo’s major cities. Even if those cities were overrun, they still had more resources and infrastructure than smaller towns.
As more people approached Lin Xian for help with repairs, inspired by his success with Shu Qin’s purifier, he handled a few more requests selectively. He repaired an infrared detector for a large convoy, integrating its blueprint into his knowledge, and traded the work for a box of antibiotics.
However, Lin Xian declined other requests, such as repairing a vehicle with a broken steering rod and a blown engine or fixing a low-grade drone.
For the car, repairing it on the spot without welding equipment would have been impossible to explain. As for the drone, it was an ordinary model and not worth the effort compared to Qian Yu’s armored car-mounted drone.
He intentionally downplayed his mechanical skills. Fixing the purifier was enough to establish goodwill in the camp, but he didn’t want to overextend himself. If he appeared too skilled—repairing purifiers, steering systems, and drones all in one night—people might expect him to fix a rocket engine next.
“Captain Lin,” a voice called out as the crowd dispersed and survivors prepared to leave for the night.
Lin Xian and Kiki, about to return to their train, turned to see Jiang Yun approaching with a smile. One of his men followed behind, carrying two peculiar devices.
“Brother Yun,” the man addressed him, handing the devices to Lin Xian.
One was a modified radio.
The other resembled a clock but was, in fact, the Soul Wave Detector Lin Xian had been eager to see.
“This is the detector, along with its blueprints,” Jiang Yun said casually.
Lin Xian examined the device—a palm-sized hemispherical contraption made of copper sheeting, with fine iron wiring wrapped around it. A filter module hung below, and it required a portable power source to operate.
“This thing is handmade? Looks complicated,” Lin Xian muttered.
“There’s a blueprint for it,” Kiki said, stepping forward to photograph the schematic.
Lin Xian didn’t stop her. While she captured the blueprint, he quietly activated his Mechanical Heart, instantly scanning the detector.
[Blueprint Acquired: Unidentified Signal Detector, Model N01.]
The design was relatively simple, though the filter posed a challenge. If he could scavenge household appliances to collect the necessary materials, building it wouldn’t be too difficult.
However, the device required red beans for operation. Jiang Yun explained that the detector consumed the energy contained within the red beans, which were expendable resources with a finite lifespan.
As Kiki photographed the blueprint, Jiang Yun’s eyes flickered with curiosity. Seeing how Lin Xian’s team could power and operate a massive train, he seemed to piece together a few suspicions but chose not to voice them.
Instead, Jiang Yun commented, “When cities had functioning industrial systems, devices were cheap. But now, with survivors struggling to secure even clean water, creating something is a rare feat.”
Lin Xian nodded, returning the detector to Jiang Yun. “Thank you. I’ll study it further.”
“Good luck,” Jiang Yun replied.
Lin Xian regarded him for a moment before asking directly, “Captain Jiang, you organized tonight’s campfire gathering. Yet, I didn’t notice you expressing any urgent needs. Why did you personally invite me?”
“Are you also wondering why I made a point to invite you specifically?” Jiang Yun said with a knowing smile, seeing through Lin Xian’s unspoken question.
Lin Xian raised a brow but didn’t reply.
A cold gust of wind swept through the camp.
Standing before Lin Xian, Jiang Yun extended his hand. The frigid air seemed to coalesce, forming a powerful vortex in his palm. A moment later, he clapped his hands, and the vortex dissipated into nothingness.
“Whoa!” Kiki exclaimed. “You can control wind?”
“This ability has its perks,” Jiang Yun said with a faint smile. “I can move quickly and reach places others can’t. But I also understand your perspective, Captain Lin—leading a convoy of lives through perilous conditions makes you cautious and vigilant. That’s a good thing. Survival in the apocalypse is no easy feat.”
“You asked about my purpose in organizing the campfire. The reason is simple,” Jiang Yun continued.
“From a rational standpoint, I’ve always admired trains. If my ability weren’t Windwalker, I’d want to build a mobile fortress like yours. Regardless of your abilities, it takes courage and strength to drive through the darkness. I respect that.”
“And on a personal level,” Jiang Yun said with disarming honesty, “in a world where life and death are uncertain, it’s better to gain friends than enemies.”
Lin Xian looked surprised. “All this… just to meet other survivors?”
"Exactly. Living on the edge of life and death every day, useful information and assistance can often mean the difference between survival and death," Jiang Yun said candidly. "That’s perhaps what sets us humans apart from those eerie things."
He turned and pulled over one of his younger men, ruffling his hair. "These people who’ve been following me didn’t always survive by luck alone. Along the way, we received plenty of help too."
“Yeah, helping each other through tough times is the way to go!” the young man, barely seventeen or eighteen, said brightly, his eyes full of optimism.
Lin Xian’s expression softened. Jiang Yun’s words struck a chord.
“Thank you. If I come across another campfire you organize, I’ll definitely join.”
Jiang Yun smiled, spreading his hands. “See? That means I’ve achieved my goal.”
With that, he swept his gaze over the area, raised a hand in farewell, and walked away. “Good luck.”
The night’s interactions had been highly productive for Lin Xian’s group. They obtained the blueprint for the Soul Wave Detector, secured a red bean, and gathered a wealth of valuable information.
As they prepared to leave, Jiang Yun’s young cyclist suddenly rode up to Lin Xian’s vehicle.
“Hey, Brother Yun asked me to remind you—when using the dark radio, don’t tune it to 1542!”
Lin Xian’s expression turned serious. “That’s the eerie station you mentioned?”
“Exactly. Be careful.”
With that, the young man pedaled off into the night.
“1542…” Kiki, seated in the back, looked puzzled. “It’s just a radio station. Could monsters really show up?”
“Better safe than sorry,” Lin Xian said, gesturing to Big Tower to start the vehicle. “There’s no need to get curious about these things.”
“Curious? I’m not curious—I’m terrified of ghosts…” Kiki shuddered, hugging herself. “Now I’m too scared to even use the radio after hearing that.”
Lin Xian thought for a moment. First, they needed to resume their journey. He intended to spend the night scavenging materials and consuming the train’s unnecessary components. Then, he’d work on building the Soul Wave Detector.
With only one red bean on hand, his priority was to get the radio connected. Missing out on vital information could cost them dearly.
Engines roared to life as over a hundred vehicles in the makeshift camp began moving, their headlights piercing the darkness. Some convoys split at various intersections, while others grouped together for safety, disappearing swiftly into the night.
The noise stirred zombies in the nearby forest. Their howls echoed through the darkness, adding an ominous backdrop to the exodus.
Jiang Yun’s vehicle, a heavily modified off-road truck with oversized tires, carried his motorcycle strapped to the rear.
In the driver’s seat, Jiang Yun watched the taillights of Lin Xian’s departing Jeep. “Looks like they’re also aiming to enter the planetary orbital rail through Yubei City and cross the high-altitude corridor of Wanyuan Gorge,” he mused.
Ren Huiyan, dressed in a leather jacket and seated in the passenger seat, commented, “The climbing corridor has been out of power for ages. Without a tow, survivors’ vehicles can’t ascend it, let alone a train as heavy as his.”
Jiang Yun chuckled lightly.
“True. Ping’a Lake has major eerie entities roaming, and the Dazhu Mountain Tunnel is completely blocked. To cross Wanyuan Gorge, you’d have to detour over a thousand kilometers through the Dazhu Mountain range. With the Polar Night pressing in and corpse shepherds cutting off the rear, I’d bet Yubei City will have a crowd of people trying for the High Orbital Corridor of Ringstar One. But I’m certain that Captain Lin has a way to make it up there.”
“You’re that confident?” Ren Huiyan asked skeptically.
Slipping on his sunglasses, Jiang Yun smirked with unwavering confidence.
“Driving three locomotives into the night with just five people—absolute badasses. Yeah, I have high hopes for that guy.”
With that, he floored the gas pedal, the engine roaring as his vehicle sped off into the night.