Armed Train in the Apocalypse

The armed train crossed the Donghuang border line that night, and it wasn’t until midday the next day that it returned.

Gripping his right hand, his brows furrowed, as if enduring something.

He Jie was the first to approach, seeing his state with some curiosity, ”Resolved?”

Su Huan shook his head and opened his right hand to him, revealing a mark like it had been burned by a soldering iron, forming the shape of a demon’s head, without features, only delicate edge lines, but even with just a few strokes, it outlined an elegant shape.

”What is this?”

He Jie’s face turned solemn, even showing a bit of tension.

Never mind Su Huan’s Tier Four non-human physique; such a degree of burn would heal overnight on him.

”I wanted to squeeze him to death, but ended up getting burned.”

Su Huan’s tone was indifferent, cold light brewed in his eyes.

The battle last night wasn’t a clear win or loss. The opponent came to test his limits, even though he crushed the opponent’s ”possession” and brutally ground the surrounding kilometers with energy several times, he had a premonition that the opponent might soon make a comeback.

However, the battle wasn’t completely without benefits; Su Huan also figured out some details about the opponent.

The opponent mastered rules but wasn’t Tier Four, or rather, not a Tier Four under Su Huan’s Evolver system. During the battle, it was evident that the opponent possessed highly skilled combat techniques, but due to physical limitations, couldn’t utilize them fully.

Their main combat methods were quite complex, capable of manipulating both energy and matter, but before using them, they would mumble something under their breath. Su Huan attempted to interrupt them, but the effects remained.

Energy dispersal wasn’t effective on the opponent; it wasn’t like facing the Terror Slaughterer that’s hard to suppress, but more of ”partial ineffectiveness,” which frustrated Su Huan, forcing him to rely on stacking damage with sheer force.

Just before dissipating, Su Huan could clearly feel that the opponent suffered more mental damage than physical.

He Jie scrutinized the pattern but with his knowledge couldn’t gain any understanding even after staring at it for a day.

Su Huan evidently knew this, retracting his hand before pinching the skin on his thumb, using the mild sting to distract from the burning sensation emanating from it.

The feeling was akin to roasting his palm over a flame’s tip, sharp pain piercing the soul, regardless of whatever means he used to block it.

Even if he cut off his palm, the right hand would still carry phantom limb pain.

”I noticed the temperature outside has dropped significantly, how’s the situation?”

When Yu Yue walked in, Su Huan discreetly shifted the topic. Her pregnant belly was becoming more apparent, and Su Huan wouldn’t let her busy herself in the kitchen anymore; he wasn’t lacking for food.

He Jie nodded, ”It’s pretty odd, clearly at almost the same location, after stepping over the border line it warms up. The reading from Glasses earlier showed temperatures around minus fifty, although still quite cold, but ordinary people could bear it.”

”Though regarding the joint military preparations, it seems they haven’t reached a clear consensus yet.”

Su Huan raised an eyebrow, ”Let’s go down and have a look.”

...

At the edge of the Changbai Icefield Needleleaf Forest, ice crystals wrapped in cold air sharpened by the wind thrust down, able to penetrate the tightest collar seams.

The sky was a murky lead-grey, pressing so low that the sun was nowhere to be seen, only a pallid and even light cast across the endless snow fields, reflecting cold glimmers, with the distant forest standing like uneven ink marks, silently spanning the horizon.

Two hundred kilometers east of this snowfield lies the front line.

A temporarily demarcated zone composed of barbed wire minefields and hastily poured concrete bunkers.

No banners waving, no grand spectacle of army gathering; only an urgent and desolate rush pushed to its utmost.

The roads were churned into muddy ruts by heavy vehicles, then frozen hard as iron.

Communication soldiers setting up antennas in snow pits deep enough to reach their waists, cursing at malfunctioning equipment.

No loud commands, only the low idling of engines, the piercing sound of metal friction, and brief urgent conversations by officers performed with hoarse voices, blended with a weary sense of resignation, permeating the cold air.

Occasionally, drones glided like vultures across the sky, emitting a low hum.

Endless convoys rumbled forward in silence, no one wished to speak in this biting cold; every breath drew away substantial heat from the surrounding air.

Soldiers wearing thick fur hats and white snow camouflage suits huddled beside armored troop carriers, trying to ignite cheap cigarettes with frozen stiff fingers, only to have them snatched away eagerly by others before taking the first puff, brawling over a single cigarette without anyone passing by bothering to intervene.

The soldiers left in the Northern Alliance had long been thrust to the front lines, blocking the spread of white terror.

Gunfire was trying to muster a sufficiently large army for interception by pulling survivors out of cities and villages, equipping them with weapons, and driving them like ducks onto the battlefield. At times like this, keeping discipline was wishful thinking; having fifty percent reach the front lines would already be considered strict military discipline.

Inside the ”Birch-3” underground command hub, the warmth bordered on stifling, the air circulation system emitting continuous low-frequency noise, filtering out all external sounds. Thick steel-reinforced concrete walls combined with lead plate linings painted in drab military-green, long corridors lit brightly, but the cold white light cast faces into a bluish hue.