Ch 317: Apocalypse Star House Hoarding

All in all, this time in the mission world, she had spent less than a year.

In her original world, however, only a second had passed—an even shorter duration than her time in the zombie world.

Yet this mission felt far longer than the ten years she had once spent in the fragmented world.

In past mission worlds, no matter how disastrous things got, there were always moments of rest and respite. But this time, the train, the platforms, the endless strange creatures and disasters, the ever-changing stations—most of the time, she was facing the unknown.

She had to remain highly focused, and the mental exhaustion far outweighed the physical toll.

The world within a world, the intertwining of stations and trains, the overlap of illusion and reality…

So when Yu Xi found herself standing once again in the familiar warmth of her split-level apartment, when Fan Qi ruffled her hair and told her to go rest early, when Bean Sprout rubbed against her ankle asking to be picked up, for a moment, she couldn’t distinguish whether this was real or just another virtual dream.

Had she truly left the Endless Train world?

Or rather, had she really escaped the ninth mission world?

Was the control authority Leng Mian had transferred to her over part of the System Tower’s mission world even real?

After bidding goodnight to her parents and Bean Sprout, she closed her bedroom door and stared at the long-missed room, suddenly sensing something unusual.

It was as if something new had appeared in her mind.

She instinctively focused on that anomaly and was instantly stunned.

Xing Min had just mentioned that the spaceship system was still rebooting, so she had assumed that the System Tower control authority Leng Mian had given her was temporarily unusable.

Just like on the train, when the isolation barrier disappeared and Xing Min appeared, the control authority had automatically duplicated and transferred to him. At that time, she had also felt a new “folder” in her mind, but she couldn’t interact with it in any way.

But now, that folder had been replaced by a tiny cluster of shimmering light.

It was no larger than a fingernail, yet in her mind, it radiated a dazzling brilliance like a gemstone, emanating an infinite and vast space.

When she focused on this small light cluster, she felt her distance from it instantly shrink. As she drew closer, the originally tiny light cluster expanded rapidly before her eyes.

If she had to describe it, it was like someone looking down at an ant suddenly switching places—the perspective of looking down turned into looking up. She wasn’t sure if the ant had grown larger or if she had become smaller.

Until the light cluster grew so vast that it enveloped her completely—only then did she realize, this wasn’t just some glowing orb. It was a nebula!

**

Every tiny glimmering speck was actually a slowly rotating galaxy. Planets and stars formed star systems, and clusters of star systems together formed a nebula.

She felt both infinitely small and infinitely vast at the same time. With just a thought, her vision could shift freely from one galaxy to another.

By zooming in, she could clearly see a massive galaxy and any particular planet within it. By zooming out, she could take in the entirety of the nebula.

It was as if she were manipulating a three-dimensional image—her consciousness was the cursor, allowing her to control everything at will.

Most of the galaxies appeared normal, with planetary systems and stars. She could distinctly sense which planets harbored life and the dark matter shrouding them.

A small portion of galaxies, however, remained in a chaotic state. These lacked stars and planets, and within the boundless cosmic darkness, fragments of unknown things drifted—sometimes the torn pages of a book, sometimes fragments of light and shadow…

She knew exactly what these were. These incomplete, unformed remnants were fragmented worlds.

Whether they were fragmented worlds or fully-formed planetary worlds, without exception, they were all entwined by different types of dark matter.

This dark matter was entirely invisible to the eye, but when she quieted her mind, she could sense it.

Some planets were already engulfed in seventy to eighty percent dark matter, while others had only just begun to be covered, with about twenty percent affected.

Worlds where dark matter was dense had weak life energy, whereas worlds with less dark matter had strong and thriving life forces.

She understood now—this dark matter was the disaster created by System T!

She had no idea how System T had managed it, but clearly, the spread of dark matter had now halted. Most likely, it was because the control authority had been transferred, severing these worlds from System T.

However, the dark matter that had already appeared did not dissipate or disappear. This meant that even though these mission worlds were no longer connected to System T, the disasters that had already occurred could not be undone.

As Yu Xi sensed the worlds within the nebula, she finally understood why Xing Min had once said that the System Tower couldn’t interfere with or even perceive the details of what happened inside the mission worlds.

It was like writing a book—once she wrote the first sentence, the entire world was born.

For example, if the first sentence was “That spring,” then all the details related to spring would automatically emerge and fill in—the climate and temperature, the state of the plants, the people walking on the streets, the appearance of the seas and lands… Within a world containing billions of lives, the creator had no way to directly interfere with the intricate details beyond that sentence.

If she wanted to interfere, there were only two methods: one was to send in a designated individual to accomplish the goal she had in mind.

The other was to enter the world herself. However, as an entity that existed outside the world, akin to a god, she would inevitably be subjected to the world’s rules and restrictions upon entering.

This was precisely why, when System T inserted itself into a world and used power beyond its scope on the train, it was suppressed by the world’s rules.

Leng Mian, on the other hand, had taken a completely different and far more discreet approach. The difference between the two was like that of an “invader” versus a “spy” in a city. The former would charge in recklessly, and once exposed, would naturally be bombarded by the city’s defenses. The latter, however, could complete their mission and leave smoothly without alerting anyone.

Now, Yu Xi found herself in the same position. She realized that if she wanted to, she no longer needed to rely on Xing Min—she could directly project herself into any of the worlds within the nebula.

She could assign herself an identity or enter without one. But even without testing it, she knew that once she entered a world, she would be subject to its rules. To what extent, she wasn’t sure yet.

After taking a shower and changing into a T-shirt and long pants for sleep, Yu Xi eagerly continued to study the nebula.

She counted the worlds—there were a total of 3,897 within the nebula, including fragmented worlds.

3,897 worlds—this meant that 3,897 worlds were still trapped in apocalyptic disasters.

Leng Mian had transferred the control authority of these worlds to her but had not told her how to stop the disasters and restore peace.

【Get some rest. The answers you’re looking for might come once the spaceship system finishes rebooting.】

“How much star currency—energy—did I bring back from this mission?”

【A lot. You won’t need to enter a mission world for quite a while. Do you want any new star artifacts? Or would you like to upgrade your Star House again? If you upgrade it this time, the next time you enter a mission world, you can bring the Star House with you. Of course, it will only be a projection. Your parents will be able to see the mission world through it, but they won’t be able to leave it. The Star House also won’t be movable, and you won’t be able to teleport back to it instantly—you’ll have to return to a fixed location to enter. However, its invisibility and protective functions will remain intact.】

“What about time? If I bring them with me, will time follow the mission world’s flow or the original world’s?”

【It will be the same as now. It will feel like mission world time, but in reality, it’s still original world time—one year equals one second.】

Yu Xi understood now. Her current way of entering mission worlds was essentially a projection—her physical body had never actually left the original world. The Star House worked the same way—it was just a spatial projection.

“Forget it, upgrading won’t change much. But I’d like to expand the Star House storage.”

【Got it.】

“And I want a swimming pool—preferably an all-glass one, so I can enjoy the scenery while swimming.”

【Okay.】

“Can I get a landing pad too? With large access doors, so I can use a low-altitude vehicle or an airship and take off directly from the Star House instead of having to step outside to find a launch site every time.”

【Understood.】

“I kind of feel like skiing. Next time, reset the Star House to a location with a large ski resort in the mountains.”

【Alright. Anything else?】 Xing Min silently took notes, planning to fulfill all her requests once the spaceship system rebooted.

Yu Xi chuckled. “Are you just going to agree to everything I ask for?”

【As long as it’s something you want and I can do it.】

“Except for the Star House storage, I was joking about everything else.” She understood the importance of energy. Ever since learning that star currency equaled energy, she would never let Xing Min waste it on unnecessary things.

But the way he always responded to her requests—his voice was truly pleasant to hear.

Yu Xi sighed, wrapping herself in the thin blanket. Resting her head on the soft pillow, she chuckled softly. “Xing Min, can you feel it? I kind of miss you…”

Sensing the strange images forming in her mind, Xing Min was silent for a moment.

【…】

It took him a while before his voice finally came through.

【I miss you too.】

And his longing was far stronger, far more overwhelming than the emotions she had just conveyed.

**

The next morning, Yu Xi woke up to the sound of light rain pattering outside.

The ecosystem here leaned toward natural balance, so the rain felt peaceful and calming—completely different from the experience of rain in the far northern town. Back then, she could vividly sense the plants reacting to the rain, eagerly evolving as if they had been parched for ages and were now finally drinking in the long-awaited nourishment.

But this time, the plants outside the Star House seemed much more languid and relaxed.

It made sense. In such a vast ecological park, plants were already the dominant force. Their growth had never been constrained, so when the apocalypse came, they didn’t need to undergo rapid evolution or extreme mutations due to climate shifts.

It was like a wealthy person winning the lottery. They wouldn’t rush to spend their winnings in a frenzy like an average person might, because to them, having money was already the norm.

The plants here were the same. They lazily stretched their branches and leaves under the rain, absorbing nutrients at a leisurely pace—growing a few extra leaves, strengthening their trunks just a little, but nothing more.

Through her bedroom door, she could hear the sounds of Fan Qi and Yu Feng in the kitchen. They were making breakfast for her with great care.

Yu Feng wanted to make scrambled eggs because his daughter loved them, while Fan Qi insisted on egg salad, arguing that not only did she love it, but it was also more nutritious.

The two of them couldn’t reach an agreement, so they decided to each make their own version and let their daughter choose which one she preferred. Mostly, they figured that since her appetite had increased after her body grew stronger, she would probably finish both dishes anyway.

Yu Xi: …

She could feel the overwhelming love from her parents.

From the rooftop terrace above, there was a faint rustling sound. She knew it was Bean Sprout waking up, pulling its roots from the soil, rinsing them off in clean water, and then rubbing itself dry with a towel.

Today, the rustling sound went on for quite a while. It seemed to be especially thorough, carefully scrubbing every tiny root clean. It even wiped down its leaves and flower buds, rolling itself over the towel to ensure every part was spotless.

She could sense Bean Sprout’s excitement—it was impatient to go downstairs, knock on her bedroom door with its freshly cleaned “little feet,” and then jump onto her hair to dance…

Yu Xi: …

She deliberately sent her thoughts over: Wouldn’t it be easier to turn a sentient rose into rose essential oil?

— Thud!

She successfully heard the sound of Bean Sprout tripping over itself upstairs, followed by a series of indignant little whimpers and protests.

Yu Xi chuckled, stretched lazily, and sat up in bed.

She truly loved mornings like this—safe and warm in her home, surrounded by her most important family, living each day in peaceful tranquility.

In the past, whenever such thoughts surfaced in her mind, another version of herself would always emerge—clear-headed and composed—reminding her not to indulge too much in comfort.

Every month, she had to enter an apocalyptic world to complete missions.

Only by completing more missions could she earn more star currency and resources to maintain the expenses of the Star House and star artifacts, ensuring that she and her family could live more safely and securely in this post-apocalyptic world.

But now, with the energy she had accumulated, she no longer needed to rush into mission worlds every month. She could allow herself to enjoy this peace a little longer.

After breakfast, Yu Xi didn’t hurry to go out. She lounged on the terrace chair, watching a drama with Yu Feng while occasionally checking the nebula in her mind.

Close to noon, Xing Min’s voice came through.

【The spaceship system has rebooted.】

Before Yu Xi could react, she was suddenly overwhelmed by a surging wave of energy. It felt as if she were sitting on a beach, only to be swallowed whole by a massive tidal wave crashing straight at her.

Xing Min also sensed the sudden surge of energy.

Yu Xi: What’s happening?!

【Check your nebula world! I can feel it—this energy is pouring in from there!】

Yu Xi: You can sense the nebula world now too?

【Yes, I only suddenly became aware of it after the reboot.】

Yu Xi quickly pieced things together. If placing anchor points in apocalyptic worlds and completing missions could bring back some energy, then could this overwhelming surge of energy be coming from those 3,897 apocalyptic worlds?

But the changes didn’t stop there. Soon, both Xing Min and Yu Xi simultaneously became aware of another space—something akin to a separate dimension.

It was vast, but unlike the apocalyptic worlds within the nebula, which had complete ecosystems, this dimensional space had none.

They could clearly perceive its size and structure—filled with towering buildings—and the countless tiny specks of light moving within it.

Most of those tiny lights were in motion.

These were—

Yu Xi suddenly realized—those were mission participants!

So Leng Mian hadn’t just transferred control over some of the post-apocalyptic worlds under the System Tower… but also the mission participants within those worlds!?