Chapter 34: Station 22: The Priest

Chapter 34 - Station 22: The Priest

Closing his eyes.

Opening them once more.

Yan Qiling found himself on the train from a bathroom overflowing with cold water.

Beneath his icy-cold overcoat, the chilled matching bracelets lay hidden as he surveyed his surroundings.

Not the familiar Train 21 from the last time. Although the overall material still exuded an aged appearance, there were subtle changes in its decor.

This time, there were twice as many passengers compared to the world of the Pen Spirit.

From this, one could infer that even if this wasn't a "Slaughterhouse," the difficulty of this world wouldn't be any less.

The cotton cushion of the seat slightly sank as a strong arm casually draped around him, holding him close without any intention to hide it.

Yan Qiling saw the reflection of the other person clearly through the glass.

A silver-haired young man wore a pristine white down jacket over a black turtleneck sweater, with a loosely wrapped indigo wool scarf around his neck.

Perhaps the warmth inside the carriage was adequate, for the young man left his jacket unzipped, exposing his chest.

The shimmering necklace was concealed by the scarf, occasionally flashing tiny fragments of light through the gaps.

Ming Yiyang gazed straight ahead, counting the passengers:

"...Twelve, thirteen, fourteen. Fourteen people, one short of a full capacity. What do you think?"

He asked but didn't wait for Yan Qiling's response, instead taking a seat next to him promptly.

The young man casually propped up his legs, adopting an uncouth posture that showed no concern for those around him.

Yan Qiling didn't turn back, his focused gaze and brows brushed by the fleeting shadows and lights in the mist.

His eyes sparkled with the flickering light, as he gazed at the world outside the window, oblivious to the subtle evasion implied by his posture:

"Are you wearing long johns?"

Ming Yiyang's movement in reaching for his phone froze, and he turned to look at the person with an unusually shocked gaze, his expression clearly conveying "you're even interfering with this?"

Ming Yiyang casually glanced over Yan Qiling's attire – the man's fashion sense was as flamboyant as ever.

The man wore a well-fitting dark gray tweed coat, not too long, just reaching his thighs.

Underneath the coat, a high-collared black shirt was buttoned up tightly, revealing a dark golden Albert knot tie beneath the collar.

That tie was then tucked into a sleeveless vest of the same deep gray, layered upon layers but looking rather vulnerable to the cold.

His jet-black bangs had been trimmed short, styled to fall in a pleasing, fluffy curve across his forehead.

Only the ends of his hair remained, slightly shorter, losing some of the nostalgic elegance but adding a refreshing neatness.

"Are you trying to manage me?"

Ming Yiyang narrowed his eyes at the stubbornly unyielding figure, taking control by grabbing the wrist beneath the man's coat.

He had merely been annoyed before, but upon feeling the abnormally low temperature beneath the fabric, his annoyance transformed into a genuine, mocking sneer.

"You're only wearing this? With such attire, you wouldn't last five minutes outside in northeastern China in December!"

Ming Yiyang, who had somewhat grown accustomed to this person's fashion obsession, realized.

He still couldn't tolerate this kind of style-over-substance foolishness.

His scrutinizing gaze fell on the man's shoes.

Black velvet boots with a high shaft, they seemed substantial, but without even checking, Ming Yiyang knew they had a thin lining and a pitifully thin sole - a typical Southern winter choice.

"Three minutes," Ming Yiyang assessed coolly. "Walking in a blizzard for no more than that."

Upon hearing this, Yan Qiling finally turned his head slightly, revealing his shimmering red and blue yin-yang irises in the light. He allowed himself to be held while politely stating, "This temperature won't kill me. Your concern is appreciated."

Faced with those twin phoenix eyes, Ming Yiyang found himself unusually at a loss for words, and he gradually released Yan Qiling's wrist.

But soon, he regained his composure, promptly putting down his crossed legs and leaning in with a swish. He gently held the other man's jaw, preventing any chance of evasion.

"Contact lenses again?" he asked.

The man maintained the exquisite curve of his lips patiently, not offering a response.

A sense of inexplicable confusion stirred in Ming Yiyang's heart. The young man's curiosity transformed into a probing skepticism in the face of the silence.

"Or is it that your eyes only look like this in the Realm of No Return?"

The heterochromatic gaze squeezed out all emotions, allowing them to exist merely as adornments on his face.

Yan Qiling answered nonchalantly, his tone leaving no room for argument:

"That's irrelevant, Ming Yiyang. You're too close."

Not receiving the answer he sought, the youth's fingers, clutching at the icy skin, exerted a slight pressure, leaving an unexpectedly tender impression.

Despite the intense cold, the texture of the skin was surprisingly supple, not much different from that of an ordinary person.

It was the first time Ming Yiyang had noticed the peculiar charm of this phenomenon. He quickly switched from pinching to gentle touches, his curiosity involuntarily compelling him to do so again.

Just like in the real world, it was indeed soft, albeit colder.

"Cough, cough."

Someone cleared their throat softly nearby, seemingly reminding them of their surroundings.

The white-haired old man sitting across from them had, at some point, awoken. His serene blue eyes watched them peacefully.

The elderly gentleman was dressed in formal Dalaris, with a matching black short cloak draped over his shoulders. A golden cross hung on his chest, its corners adorned with floral points, bearing an engraved effigy of a saint's pained expression.

A long, white sacred sash hung around his neck, meandering down in twists and turns until it reached his calves.

At the end of the holy sash were four inverted red triangles forming a cross, with their tails indented inward, creating eight vertices in total.

This was the Maltese Cross, and the man's identity and occupation were self-evident.

Ming Yiyang had already let go and sat back down.

It wasn't because he was being mindful of the situation; rather, Yan Qiling's refusal to answer had made him very unhappy.

He was afraid that if he persisted with his questioning, they would end up fighting again, disrupting the execution of their subsequent plans.

Yan Qiling returned the priest's calm smile without any embarrassment for potentially causing confusion. He greeted the man in English:

"Father Simon, long time no see. How's the weather where you are?"

He seemed to know the man, and from the tone of his voice, they were even acquaintances.

Simon's aged face lit up with an appropriate smile. He traced a cross from left to right across his chest, then downward, and said in a voice that was old yet gentle and strong:

"Blessed by God, it was sunny before I came in."

"That's great. Did you come in alone, or were you asked to do so?"

Simon gestured subtly towards a person sleeping soundly in the adjacent seat.

A deep blue down jacket with its hood pulled down concealed the person's face and hair completely.

Although their figure was indistinguishable, one could sense that they were quite slender.

With a soft "God bless," Simon introduced, "Mr. Yan, this time, I'm here on behalf of someone else. This gentleman is my employer."

"He goes by the name Patland. He has been blind since childhood, and being on this Prison Train... it's truly an unfortunate situation for him. I'll have to trouble you to look after this child during the journey ahead."

Yan Qiling wore an expression that conveyed, "I'm glad to be of help."

Having overheard their entire conversation, Ming Yiyang cast a thoughtful glance at the mysterious "employer."

The sound of boots with heels clicking echoed on the metallic floor, producing a crisp "clack-clack."

A breeze carried the scent of jasmine from behind them.

The trio turned their heads to see a flamboyantly dressed lady toss her fiery orange hair and flash them a charming smile.

"Gentlemen, how do you do?"

The lady had dark skin, yet her heavily Gothic makeup couldn't conceal her exotic beauty.

Her light brown eyes were bright and sparkling, like fragments of beer bottle shimmering under the sun.

She was dressed in a classical black gown, with a ruffled high collar adorned with lace that piled up intricately, making her neck appear overly slender, reminiscent of a seductive serpent.

She even wore black gloves, and between her fingers dangled intricate golden bangles that extended into her sleeves.

If not for the relatively bright lighting in the train at the moment, she might have blended seamlessly into the night, unnoticed by anyone.

However, in contrast to her attire that seemed suitable for a funeral, her expression radiated like a rising sun, as she cheerfully greeted them.

"It's surprising to see so many researchers of mysticism gathered here. It's truly an eye-opener."

Her enthusiasm didn't rub off on others, especially Ming Yiyang.

He could roughly tell that the woman was speaking Spanish, a language he hadn't studied and thus couldn't understand at all.

Father Simon, sitting across from him, wore a serious expression. Judging from the old man's silence, it seemed he was also clueless about the conversation.

This brought a sense of balance to Ming Yiyang's mind.

In the Interstitial World, it was common to encounter teammates who spoke different languages.

The train's selection process was quite random, often bringing together people from different regions, countries, and even continents.

In fact, apart from the certainty that the train favored younger individuals entering the Interstitial World, it was difficult to determine anything else.

Surprisingly, Yan Qiling responded to her in Spanish, but this time, his speech was much slower than when he conversed with Simon:

"Nice to meet you. However, these two gentlemen don't understand Spanish. Perhaps you could communicate with them in another way."

The lady's clear brown eyes widened with surprise upon seeing him, and her cheerful demeanor began to withdraw, replaced by a hint of uncertain confusion in her gaze.

However, she still managed to ask in somewhat awkward English:

"Are you both researchers of mysticism?"

Her accent was heavy, but her enunciation was clear, making it not too difficult to understand. Ming Yiyang responded first:

"No, we're not. What's your name, and how did you get in here?"

Fixing her gaze on him for a few seconds, the young lady's somewhat dim expression brightened again. She seemed to have regained her interest, casting aside her previous confusion.

"My name is Ada, and I'm a seer. I stumbled upon the story of this ticket from a client and decided to purchase one out of curiosity, eager to discover what wonders lie here. What about you? Have you also entered by purchasing tickets?"

Upon hearing her reasoning, both Ming Yiyang and Simon wore less-than-pleased expressions.

"Purchase a ticket to enter."

The silver-haired youth emitted a languid hum of laughter, his dark eyes brimming with acerbic mockery.

"What a delightful journey towards death. One wrong step, and there's no turning back."

Ada found the words challenging to comprehend, perhaps missing the irony in the young man's tone. She replied with enthusiasm, "Unlike those powerless soothsayers, sir, I can assure my own safety... Oh, may I know your name?"

Ming Yiyang casually gave his name and then dismissed the woman from his attention.

When they arrived, she would learn that the ideal notion of the Realm of No Return was vastly different from its grim reality.

Yan Qiling was more concerned with the communication issue among them than the manner in which a woman might enter the situation:

"Language could indeed pose a significant challenge if we're to collaborate further..."

To everyone's surprise, Simon suddenly spoke a fairly decent sentence in Chinese:

"Mr. Yan, I can interpret for you with Ms. Ada. During this period, I've learned some new languages. Though my proficiency isn't fluent, I can understand well enough."

This turned out to be an unexpected pleasant surprise.

Having overcome the language barrier, Simon made no attempt to hide his curiosity towards the silver-haired young man.

In fact, this was not the first time he had encountered Yan Qiling.

On both previous train rides, he had had the fortune of working alongside this composed Eastern gentleman.

The man's unwavering calmness in crisis and unpredictable methods had left an indelible impression on him.

However, the man was always alone and had explicitly rejected his offers of collaboration – Yan Qiling had no interest in being employed by others.

But now, there was a tall and handsome youth seated beside the man...

From their sporadic conversations and intimate interactions that seemed oblivious to others, Simon could tell that their relationship was distinct from others.

Simon believed that understanding this young man would likely facilitate their impending collaboration.

He turned to look at the pair, carefully choosing his words:

"I mean no offense, but I'm curious – are the two of you partners?"

Yan Qiling: "Yes."

Ming Yiyang: "No."

Their contrasting answers left the elderly man, well into his fifties, with a puzzled expression.