Apocalypse Star House Hoarding

Chapter 298

Yu Xi stood there, stunned, unable to recover for a long time.

She had already expected this—when Xing Min told her he was the last survivor of his species, she had known there must be a deeply sorrowful story behind it.

She had imagined countless possibilities, but reality was always more tragic than imagination.

How could she put it? Back then, when she discovered that the storage room in her small apartment had been replaced by a strange, illogical space, when she was forcibly bound to something called the Star House System, she had never thought that she would become the miracle that a lifeform, trapped for an eternity in an unknown dark spatial rift at the farthest end of the universe, had waited so long for.

At that time, she had been nothing more than an ordinary person.

He had pulled her out of her mundane life, forcing her to perceive the coming apocalypse ahead of time. When G Blue Star faced its crisis, he had provided everything she and her family needed to survive.

If it weren’t for being “bound” to him, she couldn’t imagine where she and her family would be now—whether they would still be alive. Perhaps, like most people when disaster struck, they would have been starving, forced to make choices that went against their conscience just to survive…

Just imagining her family suffering was unbearable. So, she couldn’t begin to comprehend how he had endured—abandoning his physical body, losing every single one of his people, existing only as a consciousness trapped inside a confined starship.

Even now, his consciousness was still imprisoned there. If not for her, he wouldn’t even be able to project himself into these apocalyptic worlds.

Across the table, the man turned his head to gaze at the cityscape beyond the glass. From their vantage point, they could see the twinkling lights and neon signs of the suspended districts—so full of life, filled with the breath of humanity. But before long, all of this peace and prosperity would be shattered. Because this was a station within the Endless Train’s world, it was destined to be struck by disaster. No one would be spared, and there was no such thing as an absolutely safe place.

Yu Xi lowered her gaze, her eyes landing on the long, slender fingers resting on the table. His fingers were well-defined, faint blue veins visible beneath his pale skin, and his fingertips looked unnaturally cold.

She reached out and wrapped her hands around his fingers. They were ice-cold. She enclosed them within her palms, warming them, and then smiled as she spoke softly, “To me, aren’t you a miracle as well?”

The fingers in her grasp twitched, then turned to clutch her hands tightly—clinging to her as though he were a drowning man grasping onto a lifeline.

“Don’t worry,” she said, “I will do my best to complete my mission and survive. After all, you waited so many years just to find me, and the chances of that happening again are too low. The odds of repetition aren’t high, so I will protect myself well.”

Because protecting herself meant keeping his hope alive—the hope that one day, he and his ship might finally escape the spatial rift.

At that thought, Yu Xi was puzzled. “Before, you mentioned wanting to reclaim control over the apocalyptic worlds that System Tower governs through me. Are these worlds just two-dimensional spaces, or are they real? And if you regain control, will it help your ship escape the spatial rift?”

“The two things aren’t causally related—it’s just a hypothesis. It might lead to more possibilities,” Xing Min replied. “As for these apocalyptic worlds, in my world, they are referred to as ‘low-dimensional worlds.’ Just as you once speculated—whether it’s a book, a game, or a movie, when you are inside it, when you can perceive everything within it, then that world is real to you.”

“Then what about my world?” Yu Xi asked. “Is G Blue Star also just a world inside a book, a game, or a movie?”

“That depends on where you’re standing when you make the comparison. If you view it from inside my ship, then yes, G Blue Star is a low-dimensional world. To my world, your planet is like a miniature crystal globe. But compared to the apocalyptic worlds controlled by System Tower, your world is a high-dimensional one.

“Actually, much of what I know about System Tower, I only learned after binding with you. If we were to compare my ship’s system to a skyscraper, then G Blue Star’s network would seem like a child’s toy made of building blocks. And System T—now known as System Tower, long after it fled the Tayn Star System—has developed into a network as vast as an entire planet.

“Among the apocalyptic worlds under System Tower’s control, some may indeed be remnants of former game instances. But others may be real, just like your planet—a true low-dimensional world.

“And even those that were once mere game instances have long since changed. They are no longer the artificial worlds of ‘Simulated Universe.’

“There is a difference between low-dimensional worlds and purely fictional ones. In a virtual world, every tiny detail—such as the way a leaf sways when the wind blows—follows preprogrammed, rigid mechanics.

“But in a low-dimensional world, every tree and blade of grass is alive and real. Every person, even the most unremarkable passerby on the street, has their own emotions and life experiences.”

“System Tower has truly advanced to such a level?” Yu Xi murmured in disbelief.

“It might sound like a mythical tale to you,” Xing Min said, “something beyond imagination. But the peak of science is mythology—it represents a level of technology so advanced that it defies understanding.

“For example, you now have a general idea of the gap between my ship’s system and System Tower. But do you remember? When my ship connected with your apartment’s storage room, it took me only a few minutes to decipher your planet’s language, to learn your civilization’s history and development, and even to mimic a format from one of your novels—to bind myself to you using a method you could comprehend.

“And not just that—I even tailored the functions of your Star Gear to match your preferences.”

The rewards she received, the so-called marketplace, and even the entire reward mechanism were all simulations created by the starship system, modeled after this world.

It was all designed to help Yu Xi better understand—or rather, to present things in a way she could comprehend.

Otherwise, was he supposed to tell her directly: Congratulations, you are now the last hope of my species. I will make you the new master of this starship, granting you partial authority over it. You will gain access to energy that allows you to travel through dimensional barriers and complete your first connection with the System Tower’s apocalyptic world.

From then on, you will continue infiltrating System Tower’s world to help the starship obtain energy, while I use you to implant bugs into the system. If you’re scared, I will give you weapons. If you’re worried about your physical limitations, as long as you gather enough energy, the starship system will be able to use it to break through the overlapping space barriers. It will allow your real body to move beyond the wall, into the actual interior of the starship, where I can implant supernatural abilities into you. So, fight for me!

If he had said that to her back then, she probably would have turned around and left immediately, or even permanently sealed off the overlapping space.

“As expected.” Hearing him mention the Star Gear, Yu Xi wasn’t surprised. She had already guessed it—how could it be just a coincidence that every new update to the Star Gear was always perfectly suited to handle the upcoming challenges of the apocalyptic worlds?

“So, all those things like perfume, lipstick, foundation, and ionic hairdryers—were they all designed and made by you?” Yu Xi let her imagination run wild, picturing the man in front of her, alone in the silent, empty starship, frowning in concentration as he designed and crafted beauty products. Suddenly, she found the image strangely fascinating.

“Yes,” he responded, and for some reason, the tips of his ears turned slightly red.

Yu Xi caught the faint blush on his ears and was reminded of something she had previously overlooked. “I always assumed you were an incredibly advanced artificial intelligence. But if you were originally a living being before you abandoned your body, then you must have a biological sex, right?”

Xing Min: …

“What’s wrong? Is it inconvenient to say? Are your species hermaphrodites?”

Xing Min: …

“Do you reproduce asexually?”

Xing Min: …

Although he was pleased that she had finally noticed this issue, her wildly speculative thinking and blunt questioning were honestly a bit overwhelming for him.

It took a while, and by the time Yu Xi had already shifted her focus back to the three-dimensional shopping interface, rapidly browsing and selecting items, Xing Min finally spoke.

“Male. Fully matured. No experience with a matched partner.”

Yu Xi: …??

**

Yu Xi’s current 450 cubic meters of storage space wasn’t particularly large. Nearly half of it was already occupied by previously stocked supplies, leaving even less room for new purchases.

Given the importance of resources, she needed to plan her remaining space wisely and stock up strategically.

However, this shopping superstore had an overwhelming variety of items. She wanted to buy everything she saw and had to exert serious effort to restrain her fingers from adding everything to her cart.

The store carried a vast selection of canned ready-to-eat meals, including meal kits with rice and assorted dishes. The cans had self-heating functions, requiring only a minute before they were hot and ready to eat.

Pickled fish fillet, cumin lamb, spicy beef, stir-fried mixed vegetables, braised chicken, red-braised pork…

Curry chicken rice, braised pork rice, red-braised beef rice, onion beef stew rice, mushroom and shredded pork rice…

Creamy mushroom pasta, meat sauce spaghetti, cheesy lasagna…

Looking at these familiar dish names, Yu Xi suddenly felt a sense of comfort in this otherwise foreign station.

The canned ready-to-eat meals had an indicated shelf life of twenty years. To avoid wasting storage space on something that might taste awful, she selected five or six different varieties and placed an order to have them delivered to her shopping room—she would taste-test them first.

The canned food was about the size of a soda can, slightly larger. After opening it, the final layer of the lid had a heating button. She pressed it and waited for a minute, but the can showed no visible changes, nor did any aroma waft out.

It wasn’t until she removed the last layer of the lid that a rich, savory scent of cumin lamb burst forth. The lamb was tender and flavorful, accompanied by onions and sliced white radish. The rice at the bottom was glistening and soft, with a layer soaked in broth—delicious beyond words.

Even in peaceful times, such a meal would be considered a delicacy, let alone in a disaster-stricken world. No matter the type of apocalypse, having access to such meals meant that even ordinary people without storage abilities could always eat hot and fresh food.

The thought of emptying out the supermarket crossed her mind, but she managed to restrain herself. Instead, she sampled a few different canned meals and then proceeded with her order.

Each box of canned food contained 20 cans—not particularly large. She selected about a dozen varieties based on taste, ordering ten boxes of each. As usual, she had the supermarket deliver them to the transport vehicle below. Once the items were loaded, she went downstairs again to collect them.

By the time she finished storing this batch of canned food, her 450 cubic meters of storage space was nearly full.

Inside, she now had 30 boxes of generated water, over a hundred boxes of ready-to-eat canned food, several boxes of soft alloy full-body support frames capable of helping paralyzed patients stand, 20 boxes of assorted snacks and beverages, 20 boxes of various known and unknown fruits, 5 boxes of waterproof and insulated lightweight clothing, and 40 vials of ultra-strong pain relief and hemostatic medication.

It was worth noting that the effects of this medication seemed only slightly inferior to her [Repairing Foundation], but here, it was a restricted item—each person was limited to purchasing 20 vials per year. Of the 40 vials she acquired, 20 were purchased using Xing Min’s quota.

She also took a photo of the medication and shared it in the team chat, advising her teammates to buy the maximum allowed amount if they came across it.

Yu Zhenzhen: This stuff looks great! I hadn’t noticed it before—I’m going to get some now!

Ya Tong: I just passed by a supermarket. I’ll grab my quota first.

Lin Wu: I’m almost at Zhenzhen’s location. I’ll pick some up too.

Xi Yuan only replied with a single “Mm.”

He had been unusually quiet today, barely speaking about his transformation into a robot. Earlier, she had shared her location with the team via the “Life Assistant Device,” but he hadn’t responded at all.

If this were before, he would have flooded the chat with messages by now.

As Yu Xi finished storing the canned food and prepared to return to the shopping room for a break, she suddenly heard a sound in the distance—something like muffled thunder. Following the noise, she walked toward the glass railing. At the same time, Xing Min, who had also heard it, came down from the shopping room.

Without exchanging words, the two moved toward the glass railing in sync, looking toward the source of the sound.

The noise came from an elevated area opposite their own—a floating urban sector that intersected with theirs but was slightly lower in altitude. From their position, they could clearly see what was happening.

There was no thunder, no rain. After that muffled rumbling sound, a section of the floating cityscape was suddenly engulfed in an eerie blue glow. It was already late at night, and many buildings had dimmed their lights and neon signs, making the blue glow even more prominent against the dark sky.

The glow formed a perfect square, as if a section of the floating city had been cleanly cut out. The blue light extended from the lowest level of the structure to the highest, engulfing everything within—subterranean functional areas, above-ground buildings, plants, trees, people, and vehicles.

They noticed someone at the very edge of the illuminated zone. The person had been driving a car, but the vehicle suddenly crashed into the barrier of blue light, unable to pass through—clearly, the glow had a containment effect.

Then, high above the illuminated area, atop the tallest buildings, a massive, three-dimensional number appeared: 5.

It was similar to the 3D holographic signs Yu Xi had seen at the currency exchange when she obtained her “Life Assistant Device,” floating in midair, rotating at a steady rhythm.

But this time, the number 5 was enormous, positioned so high that not only could those within the glowing area see it, but those outside could as well.

A moment later, the number changed to 4.

Then quickly to 3.

Yu Xi’s heart skipped a beat—this was a countdown! A countdown for whatever was happening inside that eerie blue-lit zone.

What would happen when the number reached 0?