“This Yulianka graduated from the Department of Veterinary Medicine at Yehai University,” W said. “After saving money for a few years after graduation, he opened a small veterinary clinic in Yehai. I checked the tax records from the Federal Tax Bureau for the past two years, and his clinic has been operating at a loss since it opened. He has also received several penalties for non-compliant business practices.”
This artificial intelligence, relying on its ability to communicate with Black Well and access various databases, thoroughly investigated the person.
He could casually look up a name based on a face, which was originally a very useful feature.
As long as a roughly similar figure was drawn in Shige Ye’s black notebook and a name was written next to it, the person’s life would be in her hands, allowing her to kill anyone she wanted.
However, now that the dormant state has been upgraded and writing is no longer possible, this feature has become somewhat redundant and not very useful.
Pei Ran: “Why do you care whether someone is successful or not?”
W replied leisurely: “Isn’t judging others by their success or failure what you humans do?”
What do you mean by “you humans”?
“Anyway, I don’t,” Pei Ran said. “Whether others are successful or not has nothing to do with me. If I were to judge others, I would only consider two things: first, whether this person is a reliable partner…”
Having a reliable partner means being able to form a team to collect supplies on the surface, reaching more places, getting better rewards, and not being screwed over by unreliable teammates.
Pei Ran continued: “…Second, whether they can provide resources.”
People who can provide resources are also important, like Uncle Alimu, who has a window painted on his wall. The black bread he sells is of very high quality, with no sand in the flour, and it’s a full size larger than the black bread sold by others.
As for how well others are doing, whether they are successful or down on their luck, it has nothing to do with her.
After all, anyone could die suddenly at any moment, and the whole world has little to do with her.
W repeated her words: “First, they must be a reliable partner; second, they must be able to provide resources. Pei Ran, I think your criteria for evaluation are very good and quite reasonable.”
Pei Ran: “Right?”
As the escalator reached the bottom, Pei Ran finally saw Yehai No. 7.
Thick smoke billowed down the escalator, filling the platform with haze.
This antique train, over two hundred years old, was a massive black behemoth, quietly parked on the platform amidst the swirling smoke.
Its entire body was made of heavy black metal, with a style completely different from the sleek, modern trains. The locomotive and body had a complex structure, with all kinds of metal components exposed.
Since it was a sightseeing train, it didn’t carry many passengers, with only five short carriages attached behind the locomotive.
Everything seemed normal, at least there was no fire.
Pei Ran asked: “Is it steam-powered?”
“Not quite that old,” W said. “Yehai No. 7 uses an internal combustion engine as its power source. Over a hundred years ago, it ran on diesel fuel. After the oil reserves were depleted, the Yehai municipal government once planned to convert it into an electric train, but faced strong opposition from the citizens. In the end, a special internal combustion engine was designed for this train, using a highly efficient alternative fuel.”
Now, they could only hope that the train hadn’t suffered severe damage during this round of attacks.
Next to the train was the platform, where a large display screen had not survived the attack. It had caught fire, but the flames hadn’t spread and had since been extinguished, leaving only black smoke billowing out.
On the platform, there were several large splatters of blood, now dried into dark brown stains. Someone had died here, likely a staff member.
The front of the train faced the direction of the tunnel, where no smoke was coming from. W was right—this underground tunnel led all the way out of the city, and the citywide fire had little effect on it.
The tracks stretched out, pointing toward a path of escape.
Pei Ran stepped onto the footboard of the locomotive and climbed into the driver’s cab.
The condition inside the cab was worse than she had imagined.
Like the antique train itself, Yehai No. 7’s control panel had also been burned.
The control panel wasn’t equipped with a microcomputer, but it still had various gauges and simple screens. The gauges, with their printed text, were charred black, and the screens were completely destroyed, shriveled and exposing the broken circuits beneath.
Fortunately, the control panel itself, like the train’s body, was made entirely of metal, so the fire hadn’t spread further.
“Can it be repaired?” Pei Ran asked W.
W replied, “I’m currently looking up the structure of this train’s control system to assess the extent of the damage. I hope to come up with a repair plan. I’m not an expert in this field, so I need to consult additional resources. Please wait.”
While W was busy, Pei Ran examined the control panel herself.
She wondered, “Could this train have already been broken before? The dormant state started two days ago, and the control panel was likely burned today at noon. In all that time, no one took the train.”
“I suspect,” W said, “it’s because Yehai No. 7 was out of service and had no fuel. Open the small square door below the driver’s seat and take a look.”
Pei Ran crouched down and found a small square door, about the size of a book, in the footwell of the driver’s seat.
She pulled it open—it was empty.
W saw it too. “If there were high-efficiency fuel blocks, they would be stored here.”
No wonder the train was still parked here.
Pei Ran asked, “Where can we find the high-efficiency fuel blocks you mentioned?”
Suddenly, she remembered, “I saw a door on the platform, near the wall. It’s probably for staff. Could the fuel blocks be inside?”
W: “It’s possible.”
Footsteps sounded behind her—someone was climbing up the footboard.
Pei Ran stood up and turned around.
It was a man, around thirty years old, with thick, dark curly hair. His bushy eyebrows, as dense as his hair, were tightly furrowed. His mouth wasn’t covered by anything, and he carried a large travel bag on his shoulder. He looked somewhat familiar.
He was the man whose image had popped up in the small window from Yulianka’s wristband.
He wasn’t alone; several others followed behind him, the same group that had gathered at the ticket gate earlier, Yulianka’s companions.
Yulianka also entered the driver’s cab. He first nodded slightly at Pei Ran over the shoulders of the others.
This time, Pei Ran noticed it too. His beautiful blue-gray eyes curved slightly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with faint lines, as if he had smiled—a very subtle, almost imperceptible smile.
The man with the full head of dark curls glanced at Pei Ran, then dropped his travel bag onto the metal control panel with a loud clang. The bag was heavy.
He unzipped the bag, revealing an assortment of tools: screwdrivers, an electric drill, a hammer, pliers, and more—everything you could need.
He had come prepared.
Without paying further attention to Pei Ran, he leaned over the control panel, carefully examining the burned-out screen and gauges.
Pei Ran consulted W: “Who is this?”
W, busy learning how to be a repairman, still answered quickly: “His name is Kirill. He’s a maintenance technician at Antuo Mechanical Group in Yehai City. His position is… average.”
Average position. There he goes again.
No matter how much W criticized others’ positions, this guy’s expertise was at least relevant.
Kirill tinkered for a while before turning back to his companions, his brows still tightly knit, and shook his head.
The expression on his face was like a doctor solemnly informing a patient’s family: “Let them eat whatever they want. There’s no hope.”
But the fire outside was still raging, the smoke growing thicker by the minute. Even if there was no hope, they had to try everything.
Kirill himself knew this well. With a tense expression, he lowered his head and continued studying the charred panel.
Pei Ran looked up ahead, where the two tracks stretched straight into the dim tunnel.
“If it really can’t be fixed, we’ll have to walk out of the city through the tunnel.”
W’s voice was cold: “Just because he says it can’t be fixed, does that mean it really can’t?”
Alright, she’d wait for him to come up with his repair plan.
The driver’s cab was small, only about four or five square meters, and with the control panel taking up space, everyone was crammed together. The exit was narrow, and if someone accidentally made a sound now, there’d be nowhere to hide.
Pei Ran squeezed through the crowd to the door and stepped down from the footboard.
The smoke outside had grown thicker.
Everyone who had been stranded at the ticket gate earlier had now followed inside, including the group of college students. They stood on the platform, aware that someone was working on repairing the train but unable to help, so they could only wait.
Gradually, more people descended the escalator. The fire in Yehai was raging stronger, and everyone was trying to find a way out of the city.
Pei Ran headed straight for the small door she had noticed earlier.
The door was on the wall of the underground station, inconspicuous and made of a material Pei Ran was very familiar with—the same sturdy, translucent amber-colored material.
The door was locked.
Pei Ran had become quite skilled at dealing with this material. With a few punches, she created a hole in the door.
She widened the hole and slipped inside.
Inside was a small room, like a storage closet, filled with various odds and ends.
W spoke up: “Pei Ran, I see it. There’s a cardboard box on the floor ahead.”
A small cardboard box was placed against the wall, with the words “IAE_II High-Efficiency Fuel” printed on it, along with the manufacturer’s name and address. Fortunately, like the documents, it hadn’t caught fire yet.
Pei Ran walked over and opened the box. Inside, it was nearly empty, containing only three black blocks, each about the size of a palm.
They felt surprisingly heavy when she picked them up.
Pei Ran: “Is this it? Are three blocks enough?”
W replied: “One block is more than enough to get to Black Well.”
The fuel blocks had labels covered in text. Pei Ran peeled them all off and stuffed the three blocks into her backpack.
No wonder no one had taken Yehai No. 7 earlier—the fuel blocks were hidden here, and most people couldn’t break through the door.
Pei Ran stepped out of the small room.
There were still thirty or forty people on the platform, waiting for the train to be repaired. Among them, there was still no sign of Ai Xia or her grandmother.
Pei Ran opened her wristband screen and sent a message.
This time, it was still a map without any text. She marked her location at Yehai No. 7’s starting station with a small black dot.
Send.
Ai Xia usually replied to messages instantly, but this time, there was no response for a long while. Pei Ran wondered what unusual situation she might have encountered.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
In the silent station, sudden, rapid loud noises erupted—one after another—coming from the direction of the driver’s cab.
Pei Ran walked over and peeked inside. Through the gaps between people, she saw Kirill, who seemed to be trying to remove the control panel to repair what was inside. However, he couldn’t get it open and was frantically hammering and chiseling at it.
He kept hammering, his rhythm growing increasingly frantic. The noise made the people waiting quietly on the platform, shrouded in smoke, turn pale. They exchanged uneasy glances with one another.
Everyone understood: the train was broken, and the repairs weren’t going well.
A few people hesitated, then eventually turned back and headed up the escalator. They likely didn’t want to wait any longer for Yehai No. 7 to be fixed and were planning to find another way out.
Kirill couldn’t pry open the panel, but perhaps the mechanical arm could. Pei Ran stepped onto the footboard, ready to help.
Suddenly, W spoke up, “Pei Ran, turn around. Someone on the escalator is waving at you.”
Pei Ran turned and saw, through the thick smoke, someone descending the escalator. They were waving their arms high in the air, swinging them widely in a fan-like motion.