Apocalypse Star House Hoarding-Chapter 293

Countdown: 9 days, 21 hours, 32 seconds.
Notification: The current station,
Light Academy
, has been upgraded from A-rank to S-rank.
As soon as Yu Xi and her team arrived at
Light 2032.5.22
, everyone’s phones received this notification.
This left them all somewhat puzzled. The station level change seemed to be related to them, but if it was because of their repeated monster farming in the Dark Library, shouldn’t the station level have
decreased
? After all, over the past few days, they had witnessed lone travelers successfully hitching a ride with them, piecing together keys to other time-layer worlds and escaping.
Why, then, had the station level increased?
This was the oldest building in Light Academy, rumored to be centuries old. It sat atop the highest hill in the entire academy, having been designated a pure historical landmark due to its age. A botanical garden had been built around it, filled with various flowers, trees, and sculpted shrubs.
The building itself was rectangular, with gray stone walls and a steep pointed roof. Its windows were narrow and small, and because it required preservation, it was usually closed off.
This was the first of the three locations suspected to be the hidden station.
The team stopped outside the entrance when Xing Min suddenly spoke. “Something is off about this place.”
The other five immediately turned to look at him.
Previously, their meetings had all taken place inside the dark library. The only proper light source had been inside the treehouse, where only two dim lamps had been lit—not enough to see every detail clearly. Now, under the bright sunlight of late spring, every fine feature of their faces was on full display.
Xing Min’s face was truly one that could distract people. Before turning their heads, everyone had been processing his words. But after turning, their thoughts briefly stalled as their eyes took in the sight.
Even Yu Xi wasn’t immune. She almost blurted out how well his appearance—his features and eye color—matched the blue sky, white clouds, and European-style greenery behind him.
Not hearing a response, Xing Min turned to glance at Yu Xi. She quickly coughed into her fist and asked, “What’s off about it?”
Xi Yuan, walking beside Yu Xi, caught her reaction completely. He chuckled lightly and spoke before Xing Min could answer.
“You’re quite impressive, being able to sense it. I only deduced that this place might be the hidden station after investigating and cross-referencing the clues Xiao Xi gathered. The reason is simple—I suspect this is where the
Illuminati
drew their ritual array. What you’re sensing should be some kind of sinister presence.”
Xing Min merely nodded in acknowledgment at Xi Yuan’s praise.
“That being said,” Xi Yuan continued, “I already found a way inside before you all arrived. The interior is set up like an art exhibition, with walls covered in historical documents, images, and photographs related to the academy. On open days, students can enter freely. There are no restricted areas. I checked everything carefully and found no suspicious zones or hidden passageways.”
Lin Wu frowned at the building before them. “I don’t sense anything unusual like Xing Min does, but I trust his instincts. And considering Xi Yuan’s findings, if multiple clues point here, even if it’s not the hidden station, something is definitely wrong with this place.”
Xing Min nodded at Lin Wu. “This station defies both science and logic. We should check again—some special formations can completely alter or conceal a building’s internal layout.”
“Alright. Once we’re inside, I’ll verify if it’s the station…”
The three men discussed and analyzed as they entered the building, efficiently organizing their plan and covering all bases.
Yu Xi lagged two steps behind, walking alongside Ya Tong and Yu Zhenzhen, feeling an inexplicable sense of leisure. “What’s with them? Why so eager?”
Yu Zhenzhen shot Ya Tong a knowing look. “It’s
peacocking
season.”
When they first arrived and met up with Xi Yuan, she had been anticipating an explosive, head-to-head confrontation—like fireworks colliding.
But in the end, before Yu Xi could even say anything, Xi Yuan had simply smiled, stepped forward, and introduced himself. He had even been the first to extend a handshake to Xing Min.
Xing Min, being the reserved type, certainly wouldn’t have started anything himself. Their meeting had been so smooth and uneventful that Yu Zhenzhen was honestly a little disappointed.
But—she
knew
it was impossible for real men to remain completely indifferent.
Ya Tong and Zhenzhen had both made subtle hints, and Yu Xi wasn’t oblivious. But in her eyes, one was a genderless system, another was always meticulous and serious in his work, and the third—well, she had seen him “peacocking” before. She was already immune. In fact, today was relatively
restrained
for him.
Her only takeaway was that this was probably why idol boy groups in peaceful times were more popular than solo idols.
When a group of tall, long-legged, strikingly handsome men walked together, the combined effect wasn’t just
1+1+1
.
It was
visual perfection.
Looking at them was simply… uplifting.
By the time Yu Xi and the others entered the building, Lin Wu had already used one attempt to verify the station, while Xing Min was releasing fragments of pale golden light, physically blocking all the internal surveillance cameras.
“Is it the station?” Yu Xi stepped forward to ask.
“No,” Xi Yuan turned back to look at her, his gaze carrying a hint of complexity. “Xing Min, he…”
No wonder he had felt something familiar about Xing Min when they first met. He had initially dismissed it as a mistaken feeling—after all, from his own timeline, hundreds of years had passed since
then
. Many of his memories existed in the way he
wanted
them to, and most were centered around Yu Xi.
Later, when he went back again to save her, his focus had been entirely on her and himself. He had little concern for anyone else.
It wasn’t until now—when Xing Min released those shimmering golden light fragments to obscure the cameras—that he suddenly realized how familiar this scene was.
Zhou Zhitong!
Not the Zhou Zhitong who had suffered amnesia after severe illness, but the one from before Yu Xi had broken free—the one who had always seemed frail and pale, yet was capable of using those miraculous golden fragments to dissolve crises in critical moments.
Back when he had still been just
Xi Yuan
, he had been too devastated by Yu Xi’s “departure” to pay much attention.
But after experiencing
Yin Yin’s
timeline, looking back now, the truth was glaringly obvious.
Yu Xi’s change.
Yin Yin’s change.
And Zhou Zhitong’s change.
They were all
travelers
. And now, Xing Min—was Zhou Zhitong!
Xi Yuan’s hesitation was confirmed when Yu Xi silently nodded, having already figured it out herself.
Xing Min’s abilities were too unique—Yu Xi knew that Xi Yuan, having interacted with him before, would eventually piece it together, so she never intended to hide it.
But to Xi Yuan, the realization that Xing Min was
Zhou Zhitong
wasn’t as simple as recognizing a past companion.
At the very beginning, when he first met Yu Xi, Zhou Zhitong had been someone he
envied
for a long time.
He had envied him for being a normal human.
Envied the unspoken understanding he shared with Yu Xi.
Envied the way they sometimes excluded others in their own private world…
After entering the System Tower’s world, he had thought
Zhou Zhitong
was merely a passing figure.
And he had assumed
Xing Min
was the same—a temporary presence.
Never had he imagined that they were
one and the same
.
So—had Xing Min been by her side all along, following her across every world?
Who exactly was he?
Xi Yuan’s thoughts were interrupted by Yu Xi’s sudden shift in alertness. By now, the group had followed Xing Min to a massive sculpted relief at the center of the building’s first floor.
This was the heart of the entire structure, a labyrinth of winding hallways and exhibition rooms.
Twice, Xing Min had led them directly toward solid walls—only for the walls, once covered in his golden light, to dissolve into traversable passageways.
Now, they had reached the end of the maze.
Xing Min frowned. “This is where the problem lies. There’s another layer of space below.” As he spoke, he released another wave of golden fragments, attempting to reveal the hidden area.
But after a few moments, the sculpted relief remained unchanged. No entrance appeared.
“It seems this formation is stronger than the previous ones,” Lin Wu commented.
“Could this be directly related to the malevolent spirit’s seal?” Yu Zhenzhen directed her question at Xi Yuan. “Could the irreversible ritual array you mentioned be beneath this?”
Xi Yuan shook his head. “It
might
be connected to the seal, but at this point in time, that irreversible formation hasn’t been drawn yet. Based on the information we’ve gathered, this time-layer exists at a
normal
point in history.”
Yu Zhenzhen suddenly had a hypothesis. She opened her mouth as if to voice it but hesitated and said nothing.
The group fell into brief silence.
Xing Min continued to stare at the sculpted relief, preparing to try again, but Yu Xi reached out and held his hand.
“Don’t force it,” she cautioned. “The previous formations were likely just sensory illusions—low-level arrays that were easy to break. If this one is directly tied to the seal, altering it might cause unpredictable consequences.”
By consequences, she meant
station level changes
.
If they engaged in certain boundary-crossing actions while the station was at S-rank, there was a high chance it would meet the same fate as Paradise Island.
Yu Xi understood the unspoken words Yu Zhenzhen had nearly voiced, as well as the silence from the others.
She had the same thought. If their current time-layer was before everything began, then wouldn’t eliminating the greatest threat at this point prevent all future tragedies?
The idea was understandable, but the reality of the station was another matter. If they erased the greatest crisis of Light Academy at its inception, then this station might cease to exist entirely.
If that happened, it wouldn’t just affect them and other travelers—every resident in this world would be caught in the collapse.
So, while they could sympathize, they couldn’t let their emotions drive them to make self-righteous decisions.
Xing Min glanced at the slender fingers holding his hand, then gently turned his palm to enclose hers, brushing his thumb over her skin in reassurance.
No need for regret or guilt. Your choice is the right one.
His voice echoed in her mind. Yu Xi looked up at him, squeezed his hand slightly, then turned to the others. “Let’s go. This isn’t the station. We’ll head to the third location.”
Half an hour later, Ya Tong stepped out of the administrative office used for new student registration and nodded at them with a smile. “This is the place.”
As long as other travelers could reach Light 2032.5.22, finding this location wasn’t particularly difficult.
After all, the main challenge of this station was being trapped in different time-layers—figuring out how to gather information from the current time-layer, finding enough puzzle pieces to form a key, and using that key to cross into the only time-layer containing the hidden station.
What surprised Yu Xi, however, was that inside this office building, she found her fourth Easter egg fragment.
Even though they had already pieced together much of the Endless Train’s nature, regaining her past memories could only help with future missions.
This time, the recovered memory showed mostly footage of her wearing a helmet, connecting to a virtual training environment where she underwent physical and reflex training.
There was also a smaller segment showing her standing before a window inside a high-rise, gazing down at the city below.
It was the first time an external, real-world city had appeared in her recovered memories.
It was a technologically advanced world. She saw suspended highways crisscrossing the city and massive three-dimensional virtual billboards.
Above the entire metropolis, there seemed to be an even larger infrastructure—some kind of extensive passageway.
However, in the memory, she remained looking downward the entire time and never raised her head, so she could only judge from its sunlit reflection.
It was high—far higher than any building. It was long—so long that its shadow stretched across the entire city.
The memory ended there.
Yu Xi refocused and checked her phone.
Her Easter egg fragment collection rate had reached 80%.
She was now missing only one final piece—likely the most crucial one.
With the hidden station confirmed, everyone finally felt a sense of relief.
For the next nine days, they could afford to relax a little.
This time-layer had no supernatural disturbances. The only oddities were occasional structural cracks or tremors in certain buildings—feedback from other time-layers being forcibly disrupted.
But compared to the problems in those other layers, these were almost negligible.
Since Xi Yuan was a resident of this world with the identity of an art teacher, he had originally planned to arrange dormitory accommodations for them.
However, Lin Wu, Ya Tong, and Yu Zhenzhen all immediately declined—they had no interest in staying in the dormitories.
Fortunately, the academy was vast and had plenty of green spaces. That night, Yu Xi used the cover of darkness to set up the treehouse in a densely wooded area.
During the day, they could stay in the treehouse, cook, and relax.
At night, the three girls slept inside the treehouse, while the two men set up tents below.
Xi Yuan lasted one night in his faculty dorm before abandoning it and moving to the tents under the treehouse with the rest of them.
Lin Wu, seeing the growing number of people, nearly used his last duplication charge to create a second treehouse. But considering he could only use it three times, he ultimately decided against it.
Sleeping in tents wasn’t bad. It was cool and brought them closer to nature.
The S-rank designation of Light Academy remained in place until the day they boarded the train.