Doomsday Mechanic: My Train Can Be Modified Infinitely

Chapter 82 Secret Mark

At 8:00 a.m., Wang Zhengyang and Natasha left the repair station.

They didn't drive—driving to the pier during the day would be too conspicuous, and after such a major incident last night, there would definitely be police checkpoints around the pier. They chose to take the subway to the nearest station and then walk from there.

The subway wasn't crowded. The morning rush hour was over, and a few passengers were scattered throughout the carriage: young people looking down at their phones, an elderly woman carrying shopping bags, and an office worker in a suit who was dozing off.

Natasha sat next to Wang Zhengyang, her hands on her knees, her fingers slightly intertwined. She looked nervous, her eyes fixed on the subway map on the doors, her lips pressed tightly together.

"Relax," Wang Zhengyang said in a low voice. "You're too nervous, which only attracts attention."

Natasha took a deep breath, trying to appear natural. But she couldn't help asking in a low voice, "Do you think my father... is still alive?"

"If he were still alive, he would definitely be waiting for you at the hydrological observation station," Wang Zhengyang said. "If he's gone... then you still need to know the truth."

Natasha's eyes reddened. She turned her head and looked out the window at the tunnel walls rushing past, without saying a word.

The subway arrived at the station. The two got off and walked out of the platform. This was an old town in western Berlin, with narrow streets and old buildings. The air was filled with the aroma of freshly baked bread from bakeries, and the smell of coffee.

Wang Zhengyang led Natasha through several alleys, avoiding the main streets. He walked slowly, stopping frequently to observe his surroundings—a habit he had developed before his rebirth, always remaining vigilant in unfamiliar environments.

Natasha followed behind him, mimicking his movements as she observed their surroundings. She noticed that Wang Zhengyang walked very lightly, almost silently; his gaze was always scanning, leaving no blind spots; and his hand was always positioned for easy access to his gun—even though he wasn't carrying one at the moment.

"What did you do before?" Natasha couldn't help but ask.

"An ordinary person," Wang Zhengyang replied simply.

“Ordinary people don’t act like you,” Natasha said. “My father trained me, and I know what professionals look like. The way you walk, the way you look at things… you’re more professional than all of my father’s comrades.”

Wang Zhengyang did not answer. He stopped at an intersection and waited for a truck to pass before continuing on his way.

"Everyone has their own past," he said. "What matters is the present and the future."

Natasha stopped asking. She knew Wang Zhengyang didn't want to talk about it, and there was no point in asking any further.

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the outskirts of the dock area. This place was completely different from last night—during the day it looked like an ordinary industrial area, with warehouses, cranes, and moored cargo ships. But a faint smell of burning lingered in the air, and the blue and red flashing lights of police cars could be seen in the distance.

The Pier 17, where the incident occurred last night, has been cordoned off. Long stretches of yellow police tape are in place, several police cars are parked at the entrance, and two police officers in reflective vests are standing there, preventing anyone from entering.

Wang Zhengyang and Natasha glanced at it from afar, then walked around it. They headed west along the riverbank to a relatively secluded area where the hydrological observation station was located.

"We've arrived." Wang Zhengyang stopped in front of a patch of overgrown weeds.

Before me stood a two-story concrete building, seemingly abandoned for a long time. Most of the windowpanes were shattered, vines climbed the walls, and the iron gate at the entrance was half-open and rusty. The sign read "Berlin Harbor Hydrological Observatory, built in 1967," but the lettering was illegible.

Natasha looked at the dilapidated building, a flicker of disappointment in her eyes: "Would... would my father really be here?"

"The more dilapidated a place is, the better it is for hiding," Wang Zhengyang said. "You wait here, I'll go in and take a look first."

"No, I'll go with you," Natasha insisted.

Wang Zhengyang glanced at her and finally nodded: "Stay close to me and keep quiet."

The two entered the building. It was even more dilapidated inside than outside—the floor was littered with rubble and trash, the walls were covered in graffiti, and the air reeked of mold and urine. It had clearly become a temporary shelter for homeless people and drug addicts.

Wang Zhengyang slowed down and focused his mind.

The supernatural ability spread out like invisible tentacles, sensing the surrounding environment. Sound, temperature, airflow, vibration... all information was captured and analyzed.

There was no one on the first floor. At least no living people—in the corner lay the rotting corpse of a homeless man, emitting a foul stench.

The second floor... shows signs of recent activity, but there's no one there now.

Wang Zhengyang raised his hand to signal Natasha to stop, and then walked up the stairs. The stairs were made of wood and were rotten, making a creaking sound when stepped on. But Wang Zhengyang used his telekinesis to create a cushioning layer under his feet, so each step felt like walking on cotton, making no sound at all.

The second floor was in slightly better condition than the first floor; at least the windows were still relatively intact. Sunlight streamed in through the broken windows, casting dappled shadows on the floor. The room was filled with discarded equipment, covered in dust.

But there were obvious signs of habitation in the room—several empty cans were piled in the corner, and several dirty blankets were spread on the floor, with marks indicating that someone had lain on them. On the wall, someone had drawn a simple symbol in chalk: a circle with three intersecting lines inside.

Natasha's eyes lit up when she saw the symbol: "This was left by my father! It's our agreed-upon mark—three lines represent three people, and a circle represents safety. If the lines intersect, it means they stayed here but have already left."

Wang Zhengyang walked over and squatted down to examine the traces. The blanket was still warm, and the food scraps in the empty can were still fresh—no more than two hours old.

"They just left not long ago," Wang Zhengyang said, "at most two hours ago."

Natasha's expression shifted from hope to anxiety: "Why? Why didn't you wait for me?"

"There might be an emergency." Wang Zhengyang stood up and searched the room carefully. Apart from the symbol and some signs of habitation, there were no notes or clear messages left behind.

"No address?" Natasha's voice was filled with disappointment. "He...he didn't tell me where to find him?"

Wang Zhengyang shook his head: "Your father is very cautious. Leaving specific information at a time like this would be dangerous. That symbol has already explained everything—he's still alive, and there are at least three more people in his team. They've moved, but they're safe for now."

Natasha bit her lip, trying hard not to let the tears fall. She knew Wang Zhengyang was right; her father was doing this to protect her. But the sense of loss from missing out again still tore at her heart.

"What do we do now?" she asked. "We don't know where they went..."

"At least we know they're still alive and able to move," Wang Zhengyang said. "That's good news. As for where to look for them..." He looked around the room. "We can wait here. If your father is safe, he might send someone back to check on them or leave new markers."

Natasha nodded, but her eyes still held anxiety. She knew Wang Zhengyang was right, but waiting was the most agonizing part.

Just as the two were preparing to find a secluded spot to wait, Wang Zhengyang suddenly raised his hand: "Wait."

What did he hear?