37: Then prove it to me.

The scent of incense ash mixed with agarwood rampaged through this extra carriage that had appeared out of thin air, making Su Chen's nasal passages sting.

He stepped onto the thick, snow-white carpet, the sensation under his feet so soft it felt surreal.

Compared to the ordinary carriage in front, which was covered in rust and had old chewing gum stuck to the seats...

This place looked more like a Republic-era mansion's boudoir forcefully stuffed into the shell of a bus.

Lin Mengyao walked at the very front. Her hand brushed over the head of a sleeper berth covered in a silk duvet, her nails scraping against the dark-gold wood with a piercing screech.

"Su Chen, look here."

Lin Mengyao's voice trembled slightly.

Su Chen frowned and walked over, his gaze following her fingertip.

Below the line of blood-red words that read 'The Loyal Shall Have a Warm Bed,' a section of the wood was noticeably more recessed than the surrounding area.

The lacquer there had been finely scraped away, revealing dark-red wood grain underneath.

It was handwriting carved out by fingernails: Seventh Generation Adapter · Lin Qingyi.

The date of the signature caused Su Chen's pupils to shrink—1923.

"Lin Qingyi..."

Su Chen searched his mind for the name.

He remembered Lin Mengyao mentioning it when she was boasting about her family history. An exceptionally talented young lady had emerged from the Lin family ancestors. She was originally betrothed to a top-tier clan, but she 'died suddenly' on the night before her wedding, and her body wasn't even allowed into the ancestral tomb.

As an egoist, Su Chen's first reaction wasn't sympathy but a chill down his spine.

A Lin family fiancée from a hundred years ago—why did her name appear on this apocalyptic bus that had just 'awakened'?

"Su Chen, look at this too."

Qin Ya had somehow found a yellowed slip of paper. It seemed to have been forcefully torn from some old school history archive.

Her slender fingers pinched the corner of the paper, her knuckles turning white from the excessive force.

The paper showed a blurry black-and-white photo. The background of the photo was actually this survival bus.

Although the paint looked brand new, the unique front grille was unmistakable.

A female student wearing an Indanthrene blue qipao stood in front of the bus door, a translucent green jade bracelet on her wrist.

Su Chen subconsciously glanced at the jade pendant hanging from Lin Mengyao's collar; the fretwork patterns on both were identical.

What Su Chen found most absurd was that in the shadows beside the girl, there was a blurry silhouette.

Those broad shoulders, and even that habitual posture of slightly lowering his center of gravity, looked exactly like his own reflection in the bus window at this very moment.

"Sacred Yang Divine Body... Is it some kind of reincarnation?"

Su Chen muttered to himself. He habitually reached into his pocket to find a cigarette to calm his nerves, but only felt the cold bronze key.

"Every generation of Adapter... dies on their wedding night."

A shrill voice with a metallic rasp echoed through the carriage.

It was Zhao Wanting's voice.

But the sound didn't come from her throat. Instead, it was vibrated collectively from the floor beneath their feet, the lampshades above their heads, and even every metal component.

Lin Mengyao shrieked, her body jerking violently, and her elbow knocked over the hollowed-out rosewood cabinet by the bed.

"Clang!"

A bronze mirror covered in green rust rolled out of the cabinet, landing face-up on the carpet.

Su Chen looked down. The mirror's surface didn't reflect Lin Mengyao's face, which was usually the face of a campus belle but was now full of terror.

Deep within that eerie green mirror, a woman in a bright red bridal gown was straddling a man's waist.

The woman's face was hidden under a red bridal veil, but her hands were tightly gripping a cold, sharp dagger, which was slowly sinking into the heart of the sleeping man.

At the man's chest, a mass of golden light was frantically dissipating as the dagger pierced him, only to be greedily absorbed by the surrounding dark-red carriage walls.

"See it clearly?"

Su Chen suddenly let out a cold laugh. He didn't retreat in fear like the other girls; instead, he stepped forward and grabbed Lin Mengyao's cold wrist.

His internal energy quietly probed the bronze mirror through his fingertips. The sensation wasn't the coldness of metal, but a strange, warm, and pulsating feeling.

This was Yang Marrow Bone, a cursed object made by grinding the spinal bones of past 'Sacred Yang Divine Bodies' after their deaths and casting them with molten bronze.

"Wh-What are you doing?"

Lin Mengyao tried to break free, but she found Su Chen's strength as immense as an iron pincer.

"My dear campus belle Lin, stop playing the victim."

Su Chen leaned into her ear, his voice low and carrying a hint of undisguised mockery.

"You're a chaebol heiress, and this bus is the work of your Lin family ancestors."

"You aren't afraid of these dead predecessors; you're afraid that you'll end up just like them. That on some sleepless night, for the sake of that damn family mission, you'll give me a stab just like that, right?"

Lin Mengyao's face turned from pale to ashen as she stared intently at Su Chen.

"I didn't! I didn't know anything about this!"

"Then prove it to me."

Su Chen suddenly let go and pointed at the bronze mirror.

"This thing has absorbed too much Yang Energy and has become the 'inner demon' of this bus. If you don't want to be that Lin Qingyi, then smash it yourself."

Lin Mengyao gritted her teeth, a flash of ruthlessness appearing in her eyes.

She suddenly grabbed a solid wood desk lamp nearby and smashed it down hard against the bronze mirror.

"Crack!"

The mirror shattered, but the fragments didn't scatter. Instead, they eerily hovered in mid-air.

Several shards reorganized as if they had a life of their own, piecing together four seal script characters formed from dark-red blood in the air: Lin Family Blood Oath.

The moment the characters formed, Lin Mengyao suddenly let out a muffled groan. She clutched her chest, and fine beads of sweat broke out on her forehead.

Su Chen's sharp eyes noticed that the sweat seeping from Lin Mengyao's palms actually had a faint rusty-red tint.

It was blood-sweat.

"If the Adapter harbors murderous intent, the Yang Body shall backlash, and the entire clan shall be exterminated..."

Lin Mengyao murmured to herself. These were family rules she had originally thought were just made up by those old fogies in the ancestral hall's secret room, but now they felt like an invisible shackle, tightening ruthlessly around her soul.

She looked up at Su Chen, her gaze complex to the extreme.

She had originally thought she was this man's savior and owner, but now it seemed she was more like a sacrificial offering tied to a bomb.

As long as she harbored even a single shred of genuine murderous intent toward Su Chen, the entire Lin family would be buried with her.

Looking at her despondent state, Su Chen felt no pity. Instead, a sense of pleasure from controlling the situation rose within him.

He casually grabbed a clean silk duvet from the carpet and lay down arrogantly on the most spacious sleeper berth.

"Teacher Qin, take them to the back and squeeze in. I'm going to rest."

Su Chen closed his eyes and rested his head on his hands, as if those eerie curses from just now were child's play.

The lights in the carriage seemed to sense his fatigue and considerately dimmed.

Only the eternal, apocalyptic wilderness wind remained outside the window.

In this deathly silence, a faint suction sound suddenly came from the fuel tank area at the front of the bus.

The pair of dark-red lips growing on the metal opened and closed slightly, as if tasting something unsatisfactory. A bitter, corrosive, thick liquid dripped silently onto the floor through the gaps in the fuel tank.