The train wasn’t empty. Each carriage contained travelers who had boarded at different stations. As Yu Xi’s group passed by, no one paid them much attention, assuming they were simply heading to their assigned seats.
However, when they reached the end of Car 9, a few passengers turned their heads, curious. Beyond this point—Cars 10 through 12—there were no regular seats, only sleeper compartments. Most passengers had no idea who these bunks were meant for, and few dared to venture into that area.
The door to Car 10 looked no different from the others, but the interior was a stark contrast. Gone was the open, public seating. Instead, a narrow corridor stretched ahead, lined with private compartments.
It seemed they were among the first from Paradise Island to board, as every compartment door stood open, revealing empty bunks.
Yu Xi took a quick look inside. The layout resembled the soft sleeper compartments on old-fashioned trains, but far more modern. The interiors were spacious, clean, and brightly lit. The beds were larger, with pull-down privacy curtains.
The middle of each compartment had a roomy area with a table and four seats by the window. The design was sleek, with black, white, and gray tones accentuated by metallic fixtures. The ladders to the upper bunks blended seamlessly into the walls, adding a futuristic touch.
Some compartments had four bunks—two uppers and two lowers—while others had six, arranged with upper, middle, and lower beds. The larger six-bunk rooms were about 50% bigger and came with a compact shower and toilet.
“This feels like compensation from the Endless Train for closing the station,” Ya Tong joked.
Yu Xi chuckled. “Yeah. From third-class seats to first-class sleeper cabins.”
Since there were only three of them, they chose the nearest four-person compartment. After closing the sliding door, a black screen lit up on the wall, displaying instructions for binding the room.
Yu Xi followed the steps: she tapped her phone against the screen, heard a beep, then leaned in for a facial scan.
The screen displayed:
Passenger: Chen An.
Car 10, Compartment 2, Bunk 1.
Below that, her in-game name, “Chen An,” appeared in soft white letters on the headboard of her bunk.
The system detected her teammates and prompted them to bind their bunks as well. Lin Wu took the lower bunk beneath hers, while Ya Tong claimed the opposite top bunk.
Once all three had finished, Yu Xi discovered the door could be locked from the inside.
Meanwhile, back on the platform, the battle for tickets raged on—far more viciously than any of their previous experiences. Skills and weapons of every imaginable kind were unleashed. A few solitary travelers stood out, their prowess so overwhelming that would-be attackers quickly backed off.
Those who didn’t? They were slaughtered without mercy.
By the time the 90-minute countdown reached zero, dozens of bodies littered the platform.
Yu Xi peeked through the window as the train began to move. The platform behind them didn’t fade into darkness like usual. Instead, the walls cracked. The ceiling crumbled. The ground split apart, as though struck by a magnitude-10 earthquake.
Within seconds, the entire station collapsed into a gaping void.
The faint sound of shocked voices carried from Car 9. Some passengers asked what had happened.
A seasoned voice responded, calm and dry, “The station was overloaded.”
No one else said a word after that.
**
Later, a traveler named Lu Yong passed by Compartment 2 in Car 10 and caught a whiff of something that stopped him in his tracks.
Spicy hotpot.
Real, authentic Sichuan hotpot, not those pre-packed, self-heating meals. The aroma of simmering chili, peppercorns, and broth drifted into the corridor like a siren’s call.
Yesterday, it had been fried chicken. Today, it was hotpot.
His stomach grumbled in protest.
Lu Yong’s team was well-equipped—two of them had spatial inventories, and they’d stocked up on supplies. But they were all rough-and-tumble survivalists. Their rations consisted of vacuum-sealed meat, instant noodles, energy bars, and canned food. Functional, long-lasting, and easy to store… but about as appetizing as cardboard.
No one in their right mind would sacrifice precious storage space for fresh ingredients, let alone cookware. Weapons and ammunition always took priority.
But after the Paradise Island disaster—and with the train indefinitely stalled—Lu Yong couldn’t help but reconsider his choices.
Damn it,
he thought, swallowing hard as he passed the compartment for the third time.
He lingered for a moment, tempted to knock and ask if he could trade something for a bite. But pride won out.
As he walked away, he muttered under his breath, “Should’ve packed some damn hotpot ingredients…”
But do we need to stock up on a pot too?
There are power outlets in the train compartments—would an induction cooker work? Maybe a divided hotpot with spicy and mild broth? Where would I even buy that?
What about dipping sauces?
We’ll need garlic, scallions, ginger, seafood sauce, right?
Bowls and chopsticks too—can’t exactly scoop hotpot with your hands…
Ugh, so complicated.
Forget it. I’ll just go back to gnawing on beef jerky, chicken wings, chicken feet, duck necks, duck wings, and duck feet with the others. Add some instant noodles and it’s not so bad…
Meanwhile, inside Compartment 2 of Car 10, Yu Xi, Ya Tong, and Lin Wu were having a
hotpot discussion meeting
about some fairly serious topics. These included: “What does a station’s difficulty really represent?” “If each station is like a dungeon, are we supposed to ‘clear’ all of them to complete some world-level mission and escape the Endless Train?” and “Since this sleeper car is so comfortable, maybe there’s a hidden quest to unlock it every time—because no one wants to go back to those stiff seats.”
The whole “hotpot meeting” idea, naturally, was Yu Xi’s suggestion. After all, their compartment had electrical outlets and a small sink. While they wouldn’t drink the train’s water, it was still handy for washing out the hotpot after the meal.
Besides, all the vegetables were pre-washed, and the beef, lamb, and hotpot meatballs were all ready to go—just tear open a packet and toss them in. Zero cooking skills required. The definition of a lazy dinner.
The built-in table felt a bit small to hold all their ingredients, so Yu Xi brought out a folding camping table from her space inventory. After spreading out all the food, she sat back with a satisfied smile.
Ya Tong was seated beside her, studying her newly acquired skills:
Iron Transformation
and
Iron Simulation.
As expected, she still didn’t manage to get a spatial skill. Instead, she inherited the steel-arm abilities of the so-called “Iron Man” they fought back at the station—though hers was a nerfed version. She could only maintain the transformation for ten minutes (compared to the original’s full hour) and had a cooldown of 36 hours (compared to his 11).
His rotating steel blades had been deadly in a fight; hers could barely slice chili peppers. Which, at the moment, was exactly what she was doing—cutting tiny red peppers into thin slices for the dipping sauce.
Still, the skill was permanent and usable in any station. In the right situation, it might even work for a sneak attack.
**
The peaceful atmosphere in Cars 10 through 12 was a stark contrast to the tension brewing in the first nine cars.
Just a few minutes ago, an announcement had echoed through the train:
{
Upcoming Station: Cretaceous Period. Stop duration: 1 hour.
}
{
This is a departure station. Passengers may remain onboard and enjoy the view.
}
Yu Xi blinked at her phone’s screen.
“‘Enjoy the view?’” she read aloud.
Ya Tong gave a dry chuckle. “Let me guess… The ‘view’ is watching passengers fight to the death for tickets.”
“Dark humor, huh?”
“So in this world, passengers either kill or watch others kill,” Lin Wu muttered.
Yu Xi checked her phone again. The next station’s name still hadn’t appeared.
This stop was the third time the train had halted since they boarded after Paradise Island. The previous two were disembarkation stations—Ghost Manor and Hope City—both places Lin Wu and Ya Tong had visited before.
Ghost Manor’s station had resembled a medieval European castle: dark stone pillars, shadowy corners, and a ceiling festooned with giant bat-like creatures. The creatures had human faces, bestial fangs, and crimson eyes. Anyone who exited through the wrong door was instantly swarmed and shredded to pieces.
Hope City’s platform was like a battlefield, with muddy craters and broken asphalt. Bullet turrets embedded in the walls and floor tracked passengers as they moved, firing relentlessly. Survival required either quick reflexes or luck—especially since medical kits and energy shields were scattered across the platform like power-ups in a shooter game.
Watching from the safety of their cabin, Yu Xi commented, “I guess if these stations are being shown to us, it means we won’t have to revisit them later.”
“Probably not,” Lin Wu agreed. “I bet the train is giving us a sneak peek of stations we’ve already passed so we can understand the mechanics.”
Yu Xi sighed. “Pity. If we could go back to an old station, we’d have an edge. We’d know exactly where to find hidden missions.”
The train stopped after ten minutes of these musings. This time, the platform looked empty—no creepy creatures or deadly traps in sight.
The only sound was the faint hum of anticipation.
But they all knew what would happen in the next hour—a brutal, bloody battle. The number of dead would far exceed those who perished at arrival platforms.
True cruelty never came from monsters. It came from people themselves.
Minutes after the train pulled in, figures appeared on the platform. The first wave of passengers sprinted toward the train, clearly holding tickets and desperate to board before the countdown even started.
But others had long since given up searching for tickets. They were already waiting in ambush, lying in wait to slaughter these ticket holders.
The massacre began instantly.
One man was just two steps from the train when an invisible blade slashed his throat. His killer materialized nearby, checked their phone, and dashed for the train door.
Yu Xi figured they had an
invisibility sticker
or a similar ability.
Elsewhere, two passengers engaged in a fierce battle, only to have a third swoop in at the last second to finish them both off and steal their tickets.
These were the lone wolves—easy prey for opportunists.
Soon after, full teams entered the fray. The ones with enough tickets wasted no time. They set up defensive formations, pushed forward as a unit, and rushed the train.
The ones without enough tickets faced a choice: band together and hunt others, or abandon their slower teammates to secure their own escape.
In just one hour, the platform became hell on earth.
Passengers watching from the train had all experienced life-or-death struggles before—ambushes, betrayals, bloodshed. But from the safety of their compartments, even they were shaken by the sight.
Out there, humanity had vanished.
People had become beasts.
Killing for survival, slaughtering strangers without hesitation.
But not every fight was about survival. Some were about revenge.
A duo—a man and a woman—charged onto the platform. They weren’t interested in the general carnage. They had locked onto a single target: a girl sprinting toward Car 9.
“You were so full of yourself before! What’s wrong now? Running away?” the man shouted.
Throwing knives spun from his wrist like miniature buzzsaws, slicing through the air toward the girl’s back.
His partner fired controlled bursts from a machine gun, but every bullet bounced off a shimmering shield surrounding the girl’s body.
“A force field? Tasker?” Lin Wu muttered.
Yu Xi’s gaze locked onto the girl.
She was maneuvering through the chaos, avoiding fights, aiming straight for Car 9. Unlike Cars 10-12, which were sealed off, Car 9 had doors directly opening onto the platform.
Yu Xi’s breath caught.
The girl’s face had changed—her skin was paler, her eyes brighter, her lips rosier. But Yu Xi recognized her instantly.
Without a word, she rose from her seat and headed for the door connecting Car 10 to Car 9.
“What’s going on?” Ya Tong had just finished chopping garlic. “Wait, is that someone you know?”
Yu Xi didn’t answer.
The girl was running out of time.
Ahead of her, two squads were locked in combat—blades flashing, energy bursts colliding, nowhere to slip through. Her only path was toward Car 9.
And her attackers weren’t giving up.
“Yu Meixi!” the knife-wielding man yelled. “Think boarding the train will save you? We can check your next stop with one tap on our phones! Just hand over your defense gear, and maybe we’ll let you live!”
“You think I’m an idiot?” Yu Meixi snarled.
She flung a small black sphere behind her. The orb burst into thick gray smoke.
The man and woman immediately started coughing, eyes watering uncontrollably.
But it didn’t stop them.
Yu Meixi’s shield flickered. Then—
Crack.
It shattered.
A throwing knife lodged in her shoulder. Another sank into her leg. She stumbled and crashed to the ground, panting in pain.
She turned her head.
Her pursuers stood over her, weapons raised.
She wasn’t afraid to die.
But this?
This wasn’t how she wanted to go.
She still hadn’t seen that person.
“Catch!”
A sharp voice cut through the chaos.
Something heavy landed beside her. She grabbed it on instinct.
Her fingers clenched around cold, smooth metal.
A small rocket launcher. Fully loaded.
Adrenaline surged through her veins.
She rolled sideways, ignoring the pain. Her attackers fired at her, but she was already in position.
She knelt, aimed, and pulled the trigger.
Boom.
The explosion obliterated the two figures, their remains vanishing in a haze of fire and blood.
Shaking, Yu Meixi turned toward the train.
Inside Car 9’s open door, a short-haired woman stood calmly, eyes still fixed on the burning wreckage.
Only after confirming their deaths did she finally look at Yu Meixi.
Her expression softened slightly.
She reached out a hand.
“Come on.”
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