Chapter 22: The Lighthouse

The signs of the impending storm arrived with terrifying speed and ferocity. The reporter, huddled within a makeshift partition to broadcast the event, could barely articulate his words. Gripping his microphone, he struggled to speak:

"As you can see, the Binhai Port is just a short distance from where I stand. The entire harbor has been placed under a complete lockdown, and visibility along the coast is extremely low."

The gale force winds whipped his raincoat, the plastic fabric snapping rhythmically. The brim of his hood offered no protection against the deluge of rain, leaving him soaked and looking utterly wretched.

In the distance, the backdrop of the live broadcast had surrendered to the ink-black, low-visibility chaos of the storm.

"There seems to be something being swept through the sky," the reporter murmured, squinting against the onslaught of the downpour. Then, he bellowed, "Get out of the way!"

As the reporter screamed, the cameraman clutching the hurricane-rigged equipment turned and bolted. The lens blurred with rain as the footage shook violently. A second later, the cameraman fell to the ground. The camera, though, remained functional, loyally recording a harrowing sight: nearby, a massive sheet of iron slammed into the ground like a blade dropped from the heavens. Had the reporter and cameraman been a moment slower, they surely would have been cleaved in two. This immersive display of terror left countless viewers watching the broadcast drenched in a cold sweat.

Countless residents along the coast of the BHX district began reinforcing their own disaster defenses, while many more remained glued to their televisions, praying for the scientists trapped at sea who were unable to return to Binhai Port.

Every news station began broadcasting the same feed—a multi-angle look at the hurricane. Beyond the locations of the reporters, the most gripping footage came from the *Voyager*. The bearded Captain Spring-Fall shouted, "Hurry! Maximize the propulsion; we have no time to lose. Everyone else, get back and secure the windows! Kevin, watch the power units—do not let them overload! Qian Yang, track the storm’s trajectory in real-time and construct a disaster model."

As he commanded, the Third-Rank Transcendentalist and master navigator forced the psychic vortex within his body to its limit, manifesting a translucent barrier of wind-deflecting energy around the entire hull. Without this barrier to slice through the gale, the research vessel’s power would have been insufficient to keep the ship upright and on its escape course.

Black blood sprayed from Spring-Fall’s mouth. He dropped to one knee, yet he did not cease his psychic output. In the face of such a natural disaster, perhaps only the lunatics at the Dragon Research Association would have been in their element. After all, they had only recently sacrificed two Fourth-Rank Transcendentalists to contain the reflection of Jormungandr, the World-Eater, at the border. But Spring-Fall was merely a retired captain—an old Norwegian man who enjoyed leaning against the deck, drinking ale, and spinning yarns. Yet, as long as he wore this uniform, he was prepared to die at sea.

Before the television, Jiang Menghan bit her lip until it bled. She feared losing her father as she had lost her mother, but she also feared that her own misfortune was cursed. Cold and detached by nature, she remained silent, her subtle trembling the only sign of the terror gripping her heart, a fear clearly perceived by the young man beside her.

"The sky has grown quite dark," Su Wen said calmly. He stood up and walked to the door to flip the switch for the living room lights. "It is time for the evening lamps to shine."

As Su Wen finished his sentence, the lights in the room flickered to life. At that very moment, a beam of light, powerful enough to pierce the thick, dark curtain of the coastal storm, erupted—a dawn that seemed to obliterate the night.

Crouched in the cabin, shielding the artifacts recovered from the expedition with his own body, Professor Jiang Xiuyuan was composing his last will and testament. He found only regret and self-reproach; he had failed to keep his promises to his wife at her deathbed, and he had failed to help his reclusive daughter find joy. Jiang Xiuyuan asked himself if he was a worthy scientist, but he knew he had been a failure as a father and husband. It was for this reason that he had advised his much younger colleague, Lu Shengkang, to seek a safer research position.

Just then, he saw the beam of light piercing the veil of the disaster. He heard the raspy, blood-choked voice of Spring-Fall: "All crew, lock your bearings! Head toward the light source—it is our only hope!"

The next moment, every Transcendentalist poured their remaining strength into the effort. In that instant, there was no distinction between ordinary people and Transcendentalists; there was only the boundary between life and death.

Everyone before their screens held their breath, silenced by the gravity of the moment. The *Voyager* pushed itself to its absolute limit. Guided by the Lighthouse No. 43, it surged forward like an arrow piercing the darkness.

[Disaster-stricken vessel detected.]
[Third hydrophobic layer closing.]
[Second hydrophobic layer maintaining dynamic pressure equilibrium.]
[External hatch opening; storm pressure index within design parameters.]

*Clang! Clang! Clang!*

The heavy mechanical groan of the massive steel gates opening sounded like a war beast preparing to face its enemy. Academician Qi Ming stared at the scene illuminated by the floodlights through the rain. It was a massive, magnificent, high-precision alloy sanctuary. Amidst the pouring rain and the hazy beams of light, he—and everyone watching the broadcast—felt the ultimate romance of steel aesthetics. In the face of an insurmountable natural disaster, the ultimate refuge of human civilization had appeared. No one could deny it: this was a miracle.

"We are safe," he whispered, bowing his head to wipe away the tears that had finally spilled. Academician Qi Ming did not cry for himself, but he could not bear the thought of losing more brilliant scientists to a senseless fate.

[Disaster-stricken vessel detected.]
[Please proceed.]
[External hatch closed.]
[To prevent excessive pressure from the storm within the hour, the hydrophobic system is undergoing negative feedback self-balancing; pressure will be distributed across the second hydrophobic layer.]
[Refugees, please do not be alarmed; any turbulence felt is a normal phenomenon during the balancing of the pressurized water layers.]
[Second hydrophobic layer closed.]
[Third hydrophobic layer opening.]
[Water levels adjusting.]
[Refugees, Lighthouse No. 43—Uninhabited Island Sanctuary welcomes you.]

As the mechanical voice of the harbor echoed, everyone watching the live feed finally dared to believe it: they had survived!