The engine room was a cauldron of twisted, searing air, drenching everyone in sweat.
Machinery hummed with precision, a symphony of steam, electricity, nuclear energy, and psychic power. Refined black oil surged through web-like pipelines, and tons of coal burned fiercely.
The energies of various eras melded perfectly, reaching peak power in a moment. The Yelmark roared as all thirty cooling valves opened wide, steam rose, gears interlocked and spun rapidly, and countless mechanical arms operated at differing frequencies, in a harmonious yet complex dance.
At the heart of it all was a special core.
It rotated gently, its multi-layered spherical metal structure pulsing with psychic power, emitting a soft sea-blue glow.
Obsessed with the ocean, a genius engineer spent half a lifetime studying the psychic waves of the Bei’en people, born of the sea. With the royal family’s generous sharing of their knowledge, he finally unveiled the mysteries of the deep—
The “Titan” core absorbed energy continuously, transforming it into wave-like fluctuations that resonated strangely with the cold seawater.
Yang Zhiming, drenched in sweat, stared intently at it.
For the past week, he had been repeatedly seeking help, consulting with numerous engineers from the guild remotely. After constant computation and verification by supercomputers, everyone reached the same conclusion: with sufficient energy, the core’s lifting power could indeed make the Yelmark take flight.
But that was just a theory.
Theories always have flaws, and even the most powerful algorithms can’t predict reality.
Yet fifty-seven years ago, stranded in the Evernight Lands without an icebreaker, they faced insurmountable challenges, ultimately leaving behind lingering troubles. Now, with this great opportunity, it was worth taking the risk.
The ascent would begin in half a minute, and all data was normal so far.
On deck stood the robust sailors. They had all secured themselves with rescue ropes, yet even those familiar with the Bei’en seas had never attempted something so audacious—
To pilot a heavy icebreaker up and against the current of the World Waterfall.
The Evernight Lands were polar, all solid ice. To reach the abandoned hunter’s station, one had to navigate through a tourist route frozen for fifty years. The “Titan” core was unique; giving it to other combat ships would only impede their progress.
Only the Yelmark was up to the task.
The roaring waterfall loomed ahead, millions of tons of water plunging down, capable of easily crushing any man’s bones or sinking mid-sized ships outright.
Accompanying the Yelmark were several rescue boats and aircraft, ready to provide assistance in case of emergencies.
An invisible defensive barrier unfolded on the deck, preparing to withstand the impact of the water, while on either side of the ship, rows of propellers extended. Each weighed tons and was powered strongly, their blades gleaming sharply, designed for use by combat ships in wild tides.
This time, their adversary was a chasm-like waterfall.
The icebreaker approached rapidly.
Fifty meters. Thirty meters.
The sound of the water was deafening.
Ten meters. Five meters.
It was only upon getting closer that one realized, even a behemoth like the Yelmark was but a tiny boat before this great waterfall.
Three meters. One meter.
Before them, there was nothing else to see but the overwhelming, destructive power of the sea.
At the moment the bow touched the waterfall, everyone involuntarily held their breath.
The next second, the water crashed against the barrier, and the front of the ship plunged downwards—even a behemoth of nearly a hundred tons couldn’t withstand the kinetic energy of the plummeting water.
Everyone leaned forward slightly, their rescue ropes taut. Several sailors gripped the railing tightly, their arm muscles as rigid as rock, their jaws clenched with tension.
The angle of incline grew steeper, and before them, there was only the water splashing against the barrier and the sea surface. The Yelmark seemed about to sink beneath the waves, forever becoming part of the seabed.
Song Qianqian shouted, “Isn’t it ready yet?”
“Relax,” Yang Zhiming’s voice came through the channel, loud and clear, “I won’t let you turn into fish bait.”
In the engine room, Yang Zhiming pressed the final switch.
Flames surged, electricity buzzed, and the energy output gauge skyrocketed. The needle on the edge bounced wildly, nearly reaching its limit under the strain of overloading—
The core suddenly burst into dazzling light.
A strange connection formed between it and the sea. A sudden strong sense of gravity swept over everyone, and a few even fell to their knees.
The next second, they felt an abrupt lightness.
They were flying.
At the point where the Yelmark touched the water, an invisible force pushed against the torrent, lifting them powerfully.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
The sinking bow was pulled up, the view flipped upward, transforming abruptly from the deep sea to the waterfall and a corner of the sky.
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Long Shiyu looked up to see the world’s water cascading down.
He had been securely tied to the railing with a rescue rope, connected to the rescue vest he wore for extra safety. Yet, Shen Zhaomu had pulled him closer, tying his rescue rope to his own.
Long Shiyu said, “I won’t wander off again.”
Shen Zhaomu replied, “I won’t trust you again.” Then, he tightened the rope around his waist even more.
As the ship ascended nearly vertically, Shen Zhaomu stood firmly on the side of the ship’s structure as if on solid ground, while Long Shiyu… dangled from his waist, swinging back and forth.
A bread dragon hanging in the air, spinning continuously.
Shen Zhaomu: “…”
He reached out, grabbing Long Shiyu by the collar with one hand and pulling him up.
The Yelmark trembled violently, rocking occasionally due to the uneven flow of water. The sea surface receded from them, islands and reefs became tiny, and yet the top of the waterfall was still not in sight.
To prevent seawater from pouring in, all cooling valves were closed, which placed an even greater strain on the ship.
Yang Zhiming kept his eyes glued to all the readings on the terminal.
They were all red but still within the expected range.
Until someone on the deck cried out in fear: “Dark tide.”
Ten seconds later, everyone saw it, the water flowing above them began to glow.
From a distance, under the night sky, a bright hue vertically descended through the waterfall, leaving a trail of vibrant colors in its wake.
Its insignificance was only relative to the World Waterfall; in reality, its cross-section spanned over ten kilometers.
Yang Zhiming cursed under his breath.
They had specifically chosen a time when dark tides were at their lowest, yet still encountered one.
Calculations showed that the core should be strong enough to carry them through the dark tide. However, dark tides usually flowed beneath the sea, and the ship’s barriers weren’t specifically designed for this. Moreover, the overloading consumed all too many resources.
When the bow made contact with the surging dark tide, a heavy shock wave was felt.
The barrier fluctuated, struggling to hold.
They continued to ascend. By the third minute into the dark tide, the barrier’s readings began to flicker wildly.
They were reaching their limit.
Just as Yang Zhiming thought things couldn’t get worse, the right side of the barrier failed.
The dark tide struck down like a heavy axe, shattering three of the icebreaker’s propellers on the right side.
No one had anticipated this. The propellers, crucial for bearing weight, had their protective casings shattered, electrical wires exposed with sparks flying, and the blades emitting black smoke as they ceased operation.
Without this powerful force, the ship suddenly tilted to the right, threatening to completely lose balance—
Golden light burst near the ship, momentarily outshining the stars.
Shen Zhaomu’s psychic power forcibly stabilized the ship.
But as the dark tide surged, even he couldn’t sustain this for long; this was the limit of human psychic power.
“Two minutes,” Shen Zhaomu said with a grave voice, sweat beading on his forehead, “That’s all I can manage.”
No sooner had he spoken than a voice chimed in: “No old pal, it is now three minutes.”
It was Uther, holding a crystal ball in one hand and a black magician’s hat in the other, from which doves continuously flew out. Made of pure psychic power, they all surged towards the vicinity of the propellers, their wings lifting the ship.
“Enough,” Yang Zhiming responded loudly.
In the sweltering engine room, he unhooked his rescue rope and fell heavily onto a machine casing below.
The fall was somewhat painful, and biting back the pain, he clumsily moved forward in the 90-degree tilted space, then leaped onto a running piston machine. The ship trembled violently, nearly causing him to lose balance next to the swiftly spinning bearings. Yang Zhiming steadied himself and continued towards the direction of the psychic energy storage.
With all other resources tapped, this was the only backup energy left. Now, the only option was to overload the other propellers on the right side to endure this period.
Just five more minutes, and they would reach the top of the waterfall.
Yang Zhiming leaped forward again.
He aimed for a large mechanical arm, but another violent shake threw off his jump angle.
Struggling to adjust his posture in mid-air, he barely managed to land half on the mechanical arm.
The impact left his elbow aching, numbing his entire arm. Not being as physically capable or balanced as a combat hunter, and with his less agile prosthetic left leg, it took him a good ten seconds to even attempt climbing onto the mechanical arm.
He was still a long distance from the storage, and falling now meant an uncertain amount of time to climb back up.
With time running short, drenched in sweat, he desperately looked up—
Through the rolling steam, he saw…
A shirtless, muscular giant?
The burly man with a large beard reached out effortlessly and pulled him up.
Yang Zhiming crashed into the man’s sweaty, massive chest, dazing him for a second before realizing this was Yelmark’s seasoned captain, Yalik.
Quickly recovering, he pointed towards the storage box, “We need to get there.”
“I’m on it,” Yalik nodded. He took a few steps back and leaped agilely to the next foothold.
His well-developed muscles provided him with tremendous power; he moved like a leopard, overcoming all obstacles, vaulting over electrical boxes, stepping on mechanical arms forward, then leaping over the steam compressor to catch the edge of the storage box in a single bound.
Yang Zhiming was astonished.
Yalik must have been in his sixties or seventies, yet he exhibited incredible vigor and wild strength.
Yalik retrieved the sealed mechanical energy sphere, preparing to head towards the control panel when he heard Yang Zhiming shout, “Adjust the settings, throw it to me, then head to the control panel.”
So, with his arm muscles taut, Yalik threw the energy sphere with a perfect pitch, then leaped towards the control panel near the core.
Yalik’s psychic power wasn’t strong, but it was enough to slightly adjust its trajectory in the air.
Yang Zhiming reached out, catching the energy sphere securely, connected it to the terminal, selected the remaining propellers on the right side, and completed all settings with a few taps.
When he raised his head again, Yalik was already standing by the control panel.
It was too far for a direct throw.
Without hesitation, Yang Zhiming bent down and detached his prosthetic leg. Balancing on his one foot, he threw the energy sphere, the prosthetic leg whistling through the air—
With a muffled metallic clash, the energy sphere was sent flying straight, its trajectory constantly corrected by psychic power.
Yalik caught it securely.
“Place it in the red slot on the far right, pull down the fourth and fifth levers,” Yang Zhiming swiftly adjusted the terminal for the final tuning.
Following the instructions, Yalik pulled the levers, and the ship suddenly accelerated.
“Baby, up you go!” Yang Zhiming roared.
With the new energy, the right side propellers’ rotation speed quickly increased.
They sliced through the waterfall like blades.
The icebreaker continued powerfully forward through the dark tide, steady and unswaying.
They were saved.
Shen Zhaomu withdrew his psychic power. Both he and Uther looked somewhat pale; such a massive expenditure of psychic power in a short time would exhaust anyone.
Shen Zhaomu took a few gasping breaths.
Then, the next second, Long Shiyu appeared in his arms.
Wrapped in a thick down jacket, Long Shiyu was all round and puffy, nudging into Shen Zhaomu’s embrace like a fluffy bundle. Looking up at Shen Zhaomu with bright eyes, he said, “You’re really amazing. Are you tired? Sit down and rest.”
He nudged Shen Zhaomu forward until the princess complied and sat down, satisfied.
Sitting on the side of the structure, Shen Zhaomu held a delighted bread dragon in his arms. Further up, the ship’s bow split the waves, splashing starlight illuminating their surroundings in a thousand dazzling hues.
Just five centimeters in front was the youth’s slender neck and shoulder nook, a slight tilt of the head revealing bright features.
Despite staring at surging dark tides, what came to mind was not its destructive force, but that captivating figure under the lights from days gone by.
Almost as if compelled by an unseen force, Shen Zhaomu tightened his grip slightly.
This brought them even closer. The soft black hair carried a familiar, comforting scent.
The next moment, the Yelmark lightened its load.
The stars before their eyes vanished, replaced by the deep night sky. They had soared over the top of the World Waterfall.
A sensation of weightlessness followed, as the icebreaker heavily splashed down onto the water surface, causing meters-high sprays. The heated propellers quickly pulled it away from the waterfall’s edge, steering towards calmer waters.
As the currents slowed, the state of overload was lifted.
The propellers gradually halted, cooling valves reopened, and black smoke drifted into the air.
Suddenly, all was quiet around them. The Yelmark sounded a long horn—
Ahead lay the silent glaciers and the eternal night.
They had reached the Evernight Lands.
Everyone, still shaken, unfastened their rescue ropes, and after a moment of silence, cheers erupted.
Yang Zhiming and Captain Yalik joined the deck, receiving hearty pats on the back from Song Qianqian, who laughed and praised, “Well done, well done! You guys truly outdid yourselves this time.”
Yang Zhiming, beaming, playfully slapped the captain’s robust and resilient muscles: “We owe it all to Captain Yalik this time. I’ve got enough stories to last a lifetime now.”
The open sea ahead, the icebreaker continued towards the old outpost.
The journey would take about two hours, and Shen Zhaomu made his way through the cheering crowd back to his room on the ship.
Drained from the psychic power expenditure, he was about to turn off the light when Long Shiyu knocked on the door: “Are you going to sleep? Let me tell you a bedtime story today.”
“…What’s gotten into you?”
Peeking through the door crack, Long Shiyu smiled, eyes curving: “Because you were so impressive today.”
Without waiting for Shen Zhaomu’s response, he stepped in wearing yellow duck slippers, clutching a blanket, and made himself comfortable on Shen Zhaomu’s bed, ready to turn off the light.
The space on the ship was small, bringing them shoulder to shoulder.
Long Shiyu began, “Time for a bedtime story. Once upon a time, there was a mountain…”
“And in that mountain, there was a temple?”
“What? No,” Long Shiyu corrected, “I’m talking about a mountain I once lived on.”
Shen Zhaomu chuckled softly.
Long Shiyu rambled on beside him, sharing tales of his peculiar part-time jobs—like getting drunk while working at a bar and waking up to find the patrons had gone through three rounds of brawls, or accidentally knocking out his own gang boss while keeping watch.
But after a week of intensive investigation and today’s exertion, Shen Zhaomu was too tired to fully grasp the stories, yet he found the chatter far from bothersome.
After Long Shiyu finished another tale, Shen Zhaomu turned to him, his arm resting on the blanket, pulling the young man closer.
Suddenly, the distance between them narrowed. Wrapped in the blanket, Long Shiyu was as fluffy and soft as he had been when they had ascended the waterfall, his shoulder and neck emitting a particularly pleasant scent.
Seemingly aware that Shen Zhaomu was drifting off, Long Shiyu murmured a couple more words then fell silent, snuggling closer, his tail sneakily wrapping around one of Shen Zhaomu’s ankles under the blanket.
“Princess, princess,” he softly called twice, brimming with joy.
Outside, the polar winds howled, but inside, it was warm and cozy.
That day, Shen Zhaomu slept deeply.
He couldn’t tell if it was the unprecedented closeness to Long Shiyu that triggered it, but he had a dream, a strange dream.
In the dream, his hands were exceptionally youthful.
Wind swept through golden grass, waving like ocean waves. A flock of sheep passed through, their fur like clouds in the sky.
He wandered among them, towards the mountains where golden waves ebbed and flowed.
He knew he was searching for something deep in the mountains.
Upon reaching the mountain’s base, the world was peaceful and serene.
Amidst the fog drifting down the mountain, that mythical creature silently appeared, its silver scales shimmering, its eyes as bright as burnished gold.
The author has something to say:
One cutesy sob a day: 0/1
Today’s story is about a sleeping beauty princess and a dragon who only dares to address him as “princess” secretly!
Thank you for the chapter! ❤ past life?
Action packed chapter. Ty for posting!
So close to akasamo yet so far XD
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