Doomsday Mechanic: My Train Can Be Modified Infinitely

Lin Luo'er thought for a moment: "It means... in extreme environments, a hundred people can have fresh vegetables to eat and clean water to drink."

"More than that," Wang Zhengyang shook his head. "It means hope. In dire straits, a little bit of green, a sip of clean water, is the hope of survival. You've built not just a system, but a... fulcrum of life."

These were very strong words. Lin Luo'er looked at Wang Zhengyang and saw a depth in his eyes that she had never seen before. In that depth, there was weight, responsibility, and a kind of vicissitude that she couldn't understand...

"Dr. Wang," she asked softly, "did you... experience something?"

The question was sudden and direct. Wang Zhengyang was silent for a few seconds before finally saying, "Everyone goes through things. Some things teach you to cherish, some things teach you to persevere. You just need to know that what you're doing now is important. Extremely important."

He didn't answer directly, but Lin Luo'er understood. Dr. Wang's composure and sense of urgency, far beyond his years, his rigorous demands on every detail, and his desperate drive as if he were racing against time—all these indicated that he was carrying something that others didn't know.

She suddenly felt that she should work harder and do better. Not just for the project, but also... to live up to Dr. Wang's trust.

"I will make this system work perfectly," Lin Luo'er said earnestly. "I promise."

Looking into her clear and determined eyes, Wang Zhengyang felt a slight stirring in his heart. In the ten years since the apocalypse in his previous life, he had seen too many people collapse under pressure and give up in desperate situations. But Lin Luo'er was different—she was petite and looked fragile, but she had a kind of resilience in her bones, like bamboo, seemingly soft but actually tough.

"I believe in you," he said. It was a simple three-word statement, but it carried a lot of weight.

A sudden silence fell between them. The only sounds in the carriage were the faint distant sounds of welding and their soft breathing. Sunlight streamed between them, and dust particles swirled slowly in the beams of light.

This moment was brief, but vivid. Visible enough for Lin Luo'er to hear her own heartbeat and feel the temperature rising on her cheeks.

Wang Zhengyang looked away first: "I'll go check the chassis progress. You... don't overwork yourself."

"Mm." Lin Luo'er nodded, watching him turn and leave. Only after Wang Zhengyang's figure disappeared through the carriage door did she let out a long sigh of relief and reach up to touch her face—it was so hot.

She lowered her head and continued working, but a smile unconsciously crept onto her lips. Dr. Wang said he believed her. Dr. Wang said what she was doing was very important.

This is enough.

At 7 p.m., the team finished dinner in the dining car. Li Xiaowei's shredded potatoes were indeed authentic—cut as thin as hair, first soaked in water to remove starch, then stir-fried quickly over high heat, and drizzled with a little aged vinegar before serving, making it sour, spicy, and refreshing, with the unique aroma of potatoes.

"Dr. Wang, you're right, people in China love shredded potatoes." Li Xiaowei watched everyone devour the food with delight. "My parents run a restaurant back home, and this dish is their signature dish. I've known how to make it since I was a child."

Wang Zhengyang didn't eat much; he needed to maintain an empty stomach for deep meditation. After dinner, he announced that there would be no overtime that night, and everyone could get some rest.

"The monitoring system will be fully operational by tomorrow morning," Chen Yishang reported on the final progress. "The living quarters beds are installed, and the toilet and shower equipment will be installed starting tomorrow. The entire vehicle's electrical system has been tested, and no problems were found."

"Very good." Wang Zhengyang nodded. "Proceed as planned tomorrow."

After everyone left, Wang Zhengyang returned to the command center. He locked the door, turned off all the lights, leaving only a table lamp with its power set to the lowest setting, its dim yellow light barely illuminating a corner of the control panel.

Sit cross-legged on the floor with your back straight and your hands naturally placed on your knees, palms facing up. Close your eyes and begin to regulate your breathing.

Deep meditation was his primary method for enhancing his supernatural abilities in his past life. Mechanical affinity is essentially a special kind of mental power, the ability to perceive and interfere with metals and machines. Through deep meditation, one can purify mental power and break through bottlenecks.

His breathing gradually slowed and deepened. Inhale for four seconds, hold your breath for four seconds, exhale for four seconds, and hold your breath again for four seconds—this was a breathing technique taught to him by a survivor of a previous life who had awakened psychic abilities. It could effectively concentrate his attention and reduce brain clutter.

Consciousness began to sink into the body.

In the deep state of meditation, he could "see" his own spiritual world—not with his eyes, but with a more essential perception. There, mechanical affinity manifested as countless tiny, silvery-white threads, extending from the core of his consciousness, penetrating his body, and connecting with the metal and machinery of the outside world.

At the 0.49% level, these threads are still very fragile, only able to passively receive information—vibrations, temperature, stress, and current fluctuations. What he needs to do now is to make them more resilient and sensitive, capable of actively extending, exploring, and even exerting influence.

His consciousness focused on his right palm. There, the threads of mechanical affinity were most dense, due to frequent contact with various tools and equipment. Wang Zhengyang began to try to guide these threads, not by force, but by guiding them like water, following their natural "flow."

It was difficult at first. The threads seemed to have their own inertia, unwilling to change their current state. Sweat seeped from his forehead, and his temples began to throb. These were early signs of excessive mental exertion.

But he didn't stop. Memories of breaking through 0.5% in his previous life surfaced in his mind—it was the third month after the apocalypse, when the shelter's diesel generator suddenly failed, shutting down the entire underground space's lighting, ventilation, and water circulation systems. Outside was the bitter cold of minus twenty degrees Celsius and roaming psionic beasts, inside were more than two hundred terrified survivors.

He knelt before the malfunctioning generator, his hands pressed against the scorching hot casing, unleashing his full mechanical power. Under that life-or-death pressure, the barrier was forcibly shattered. He "saw" the fault—an over-worn bearing—and then, with his newly acquired abilities, forcefully guided metal atoms to fill the worn area.

Although only 70% was repaired, and although he was unconscious for a full day afterward, the generator restarted. The shelter regained light and warmth, and more than two hundred people survived.

Now, without the pressure of life and death, he needs to break through in a gentler but more efficient way.

Time loses its meaning in deep meditation. It could be an hour, or it could be three hours. Wang Zhengyang's entire consciousness was immersed in the world of supernatural abilities, feeling every slight increase, every subtle fluctuation.

The barrier began to loosen.

Like the first crack appearing on ice in spring, like the tiny opening pushed open by life within an eggshell. The value of 0.49% flickered in my consciousness, each flicker bringing me closer to the critical point.

Wang Zhengyang remained patient, steadily guiding his mental energy. Sweat soaked his back, and the throbbing in his temples intensified, but he didn't stop. Breakthroughs require unwavering determination; giving up halfway would make the next attempt even more difficult.

Deep within consciousness, the stream of mechanical affinity began to accelerate and expand. 0.49%, 0.492%, 0.495%, 0.498%...

Getting closer.

At a certain moment, it seemed as if I heard a slight "click"—not a real sound, but a perception at the level of consciousness.

The barrier has been breached.

Instantly, mechanical affinity surged forth like a flood bursting its banks! The perception radius expanded dramatically—7 meters, 8 meters, 9 meters! Finally, it stabilized at 15 meters!