218: Chapter 218 The Iron-Horse Outpost Vehicle Crossed the Border! Radar Detected the Signal

Day 67, 5:23 AM.

Cockpit.

Lu Chen opened his eyes; the radar sweep on the panel was scanning north-northwest.

His gaze immediately fell on the signal log column.

Five records.

The fifth pale red timestamp stopped at Day 63.

Nothing new.

He pressed the communicator.

“City Lord, morning.” Chen Li answered quickly, his voice dry and raspy from lack of sleep. “Since early this morning, the signal scan has run twenty-seven times. All clean, no sign of a sixth.”

“Good.”

Lu Chen turned his gaze back to the radar.

Within eight kilometers, it was completely clean.

He had just straightened the back of his chair and hadn't even touched his logbook when the communicator vibrated.

It was Zhou Yuan's line.

“City Lord.” Zhou Yuan's voice was parched from exhaustion, lacking any of the sluggishness of someone who had just woken up.

“Speak.”

“Forge just sent word.” Zhou Yuan slowed his speech, emphasizing each word. “The Beacon Station detected movement thirty-seven minutes ago. Two scout vehicles have crossed the Southern Entrance of Roaring Ice Abyss.”

Lu Chen's hand, reaching for the notebook, stopped mid-air.

“Two scout vehicles, crossed the southern entrance.” He repeated the words to himself.

“Yes, at 4:46 AM. Forge reported a margin of error of two kilometers, direction seven degrees north-northwest. It matches the fifth signal.”

“Speed.”

“The Beacon Station is a fixed point; it can't measure speed, only the time and location of the crossing.” Zhou Yuan took a breath. “City Lord, from the southern entrance to our eight-kilometer radar circle, based on the pace of Iron Hoof light reconnaissance vehicles—at sixty to seventy kilometers per hour—it'll take another twelve to eighteen hours.”

Lu Chen calculated the timeline in his head.

Crossing the line at 4:46 AM, plus twelve to eighteen hours... at the earliest, 4:30 PM today; at the latest, 11:00 AM tomorrow morning, the scout vehicles would enter the eight-kilometer radar range.

Today.

Or tomorrow morning.

“Zhou Yuan,” Lu Chen spoke. “Send this news back to Forge exactly as it is. Tell him to slam the fact that ‘Iron Hoof scout vehicles crossed the southern entrance at dawn’ onto the Council table before today's proposals start being debated.”

“I'll send it now.”

“Wait.” Lu Chen stopped him. “Don't just mention crossing the southern entrance. Give Forge a message: according to the calculations from Polaris, the scout vehicles will step into the territory of the Rustwind Wasteland as early as this afternoon.”

“This afternoon.” Zhou Yuan muttered the words, his voice tight. “City Lord, if Forge uses these numbers, those two abstaining votes...”

“They don't want to fight simply because the blade isn't at their throats yet, so they think they can keep stalling.” Lu Chen's voice was steady. “Now go tell them there's no more stalling. The blade has arrived.”

Silence followed on the other end for two seconds.

“Understood,” Zhou Yuan replied. “I'll send it now.”

“Go sleep for two hours after you're done.”

“City Lord, the scout vehicles might enter the radar this afternoon...”

“I'll keep watch. I'll call you if anything happens.”

Communication ended.

Lu Chen leaned back, lowering the chair back by two centimeters—not completely flat—his gaze fixed on the radar sweep in the bottom right corner of the panel.

Within eight kilometers, it was completely clean.

He didn't move, just sat there on the iron chair and waited.

7:18 AM.

Greenhouse, third floor.

Lin Wan and Song Ya were dealing with the last four rows of the third crop of wheat.

Today's harvest was smoother than yesterday's. The agricultural technicians were more experienced, and the storage bins were being handed over frequently; it was estimated they would finish by 10:00 AM.

Song Ya stuffed the last bundle of wheat ears into a bin, snapped the lid shut, and glanced at the counter in her hand.

“This batch is 7.8 tons. Combined with yesterday's 9.5 tons, the total is 17.3 tons.”

“Two hundred kilograms short.” Lin Wan filled in the number in her notebook. “It's within the margin of error; it won't affect distribution.”

Song Ya nodded, moved half a step closer to Lin Wan, and lowered her voice.

“Technician Lin, I heard some rumors this morning that the Iron Hoof Legion has already passed the Roaring Ice Abyss.”

Lin Wan's pen didn't stop.

“Where did you hear that?”

“Chief Engineer Han passed by the Greenhouse early this morning and whispered to Old Liu that he had to finish the work on the springs tonight no matter what, because the Iron Hoof Legion is almost here.” Song Ya's voice dropped even lower. “Is it true?”

Lin Wan finished writing the last digit and capped her pen.

“17.3 tons. Air-dry this afternoon, mill into flour the day after tomorrow. Go tell everyone the news: once this harvest is done, we'll be eating noodles again starting the day after tomorrow.”

She didn't directly answer Song Ya's question, pausing for half a second before adding another sentence.

“If the City Lord gives a definite word, I'll let you know.”

Song Ya didn't press further, put away her clipboard, and turned to call the agricultural technicians to organize the storage bins.

Lin Wan stuffed her notebook into her pocket, walked to the communication terminal in the southeast corner of the Greenhouse, and turned on the communicator.

“City Lord.”

“Speak.”

“The third crop was cleared this morning. Total yield is 17.3 tons, within expectations.” After reporting the figures, she paused for half a second. “Song Ya said Han Zhengqing let something slip this morning, saying the Iron Hoof Legion has passed the Roaring Ice Abyss. Is that true?”

There was silence from the Cockpit.

Three or four seconds passed.

“Two scout vehicles crossed the southern entrance at 4:46 AM. Forge's Beacon Station detected them.”

Lin Wan placed her palm on the edge of the terminal, her knuckles pressing hard against it.

“How much longer until they enter our radar?”

“As early as this afternoon.”

This afternoon.

“City Lord.” Lin Wan's voice dropped slightly. “If Han Zhengqing knows, this rumor has likely already spread through the ship.”

“I'm aware.” Lu Chen's voice was steady. “Have Chen Li notify the managers on each floor. Tell them we have the intel and are monitoring it. Let the people below keep doing what they're doing. Distribute the flour as planned, and drink the porridge as usual. There must be no chaos on the ship.”

“Understood, I'll go meet with Chen Li.”

“Lin Wan.”

“In.”

“The third harvest is finished,” Lu Chen said. “Arrange the air-drying for this afternoon, and have Song Ya oversee the milling. Don't spend your afternoon in the Greenhouse.”

“Where should I go then?”

“The Cockpit,” Lu Chen said. “There might be some movement this afternoon.”

Lin Wan pulled her hand back from the frame.

“Alright,” she agreed. “What time should I head over?”

“2:00 PM.”

“Understood.”

Communication ended.

Lin Wan stood there for a couple of seconds, then turned to look at the rows of Hydroponic Racks in the Greenhouse.

The last four rows of wheat had been harvested cleanly. The racks were empty, bare iron rods supporting empty troughs, while the nutrient solution continued to circulate noisily through the pipes, waiting for the next batch of seeds.

As for when to sow, whether it would be on the run or in some other territory, there was no telling.

She stuffed her communicator into her pocket and strode out of the Greenhouse.

1:56 PM.

Cockpit.

Zhou Yuan was slumped in his chair; the bloodshot lines in his eyes hadn't fully receded, but his gaze was clear.

Zhao Tiezhu stood by the panel, watching the radar sweep turn circle after circle.

Lin Xiao sat in a seat near the edge, hands crossed over his knees, silent.

Lin Wan pushed the door open and entered; Lu Chen was staring at the signal log column on the panel and didn't look back.

“You're here.”

“I'm here.” Lin Wan pulled out a chair next to Zhou Yuan and sat down, resting her notebook on her knees.

No one spoke in the Cockpit, leaving only the electronic beep of the radar scan and the hum of the ventilation.

2:17 PM.

The radar sweep on the panel passed the north-northwest direction, and the signal strength indicator light in the bottom right corner of the screen flickered once, extremely weakly.

Lu Chen's finger, resting on the console, paused.

He pushed the signal strength reading to the max.

Six degrees north-northwest.

The edge of the eight-kilometer radar range—it had crossed the line.