The ■■ Train
Chapter 662: Origin
“…”
Wen Jianyan lowered his eyes, staring blankly.
In that brief moment, the mechanical roar of the moving train seemed to fade away. The entire universe fell into a dead silence, leaving only that single piece of candy lying in the palm of his hand.
Other than that, there was nothing else.
Clack, clack.
Footsteps approached from outside the train doors.
The arrival of that sound was like flipping a switch. In the next second, everything from the real world came roaring back.
The swaying, moving train, the clatter of the tracks, the bottomless pitch-black wasteland outside the window, and the conductor gradually approaching from outside the doors.
Wen Jianyan abruptly closed his fingers, raised his head, and looked in the direction of the sound.
He saw the train doors slowly being pushed open.
Darkness surged in along with the footsteps. In just the blink of an eye, the temperature inside the carriage plummeted, and the stiff footsteps drew closer.
In merely a blink, the faceless conductor had already arrived right in front of him.
Wen Jianyan had long since snapped back to his senses. He calmly and swiftly took out his spirit money, preparing to buy a ticket—but something unexpected happened.
The conductor seemed to completely ignore his existence, not stopping his steps at all, and walked straight past him.
…What was going on?
Wen Jianyan froze.
In that brief moment of distraction, the conductor had already passed his seat and was heading deeper into the carriage. Listening to the other party’s chilling footsteps gradually fading away, Wen Jianyan was stunned, as if he had suddenly realized something.
He lowered his head and dug out an old train ticket from deep within his other pocket.
Unlike other tickets, this one was a glaring, bizarre red. The place where the terminal station should have been written was unreadable, covered only by a patch of filthy scribbles.
This was Wu Zhu’s ticket.
Could it be that the rules determined the previous ticket was still valid?
After all…
Wen Jianyan subconsciously raised his hand and touched the heavy golden pendant below his collarbone.
Strictly speaking, the “owner of the ticket” was indeed present.
While he was pondering, the conductor had already left the carriage.
As the footsteps faded away, the lighting in the carriage returned to normal.
Wen Jianyan slowly exhaled, his perpetually tense shoulders finally relaxing.
Whatever the reason, at least he could stay on this train now, rather than being forced off at the next station and hunted by the Nightmare once again.
However, having said that…
Wen Jianyan rubbed the edge of the ticket with his fingertips, revealing a thoughtful expression.
Since the rules determined that he was now the owner of this ticket, didn’t that mean he could… actually go to this station?
Wen Jianyan lowered his eyes, staring fixedly at the gibberish after the terminal station for a few seconds.
He shifted his gaze, his eyes falling on the [Dead Sea Scrolls] spread open on the table, and a vague guess suddenly emerged in his heart.
Trying it wouldn’t hurt anyway.
Thus, Wen Jianyan leaned forward, flipped the book backward, and placed the ticket on a blank page.
The next second, a line of crooked text surfaced.
At the moment, he clearly saw the contents of the text, Wen Jianyan heard his heart skip a heavy beat.
He stared fixedly at the page, his pupils shrinking slightly.
[Volume One]
[Origin]
The train rumbled forward.
Through the blurred windows, there was a bottomless, boundless darkness like an ocean. Only the train’s single beam of headlight flickered ahead, becoming the sole beacon in the entire world.
The train body swayed, emitting a steady, muffled clattering sound.
During the journey, the train stopped more than once.
After the train stopped, the doors would creak open. Accompanied by heavy, chilling footsteps, the carriage tilted to one side as if bearing an invisible weight.
“Passengers” boarded the train one after another, guided to different seats by invisible rules.
Following that, the train would start again, carrying countless vengeful ghosts as it roared out of the platform.
The number of vengeful ghosts carried on the train gradually increased. When this number reached a certain critical threshold, it would stop at the platform of the Changsheng Building. The “passengers” on board would then slowly disembark with stiff steps, leaving the train one by one and walking off into the darkness.
Then, the empty train would depart again, starting yet another endless cycle.
However, although the train stopped and started continuously, not once did it stop at the “terminal station” displayed on the crimson ticket.
Clatter, clatter—
The train once again left a platform, hurtling into the darkness.
Inside the massive, empty carriage, Wen Jianyan curled up on the hard, narrow seat. Amidst the swaying, continuous, and seemingly endless journey, his head uncontrollably nodded off bit by bit. Finally, unable to resist his weariness any longer, he leaned against the metal wall and fell into a deep sleep.
He felt like he had slept for only a few seconds.
Suddenly, under the pull of gravity, Wen Jianyan’s head violently dropped downward, his temple knocking against the edge of the window. The pain was sharp, like an ice pick chiseling into his brain. He let out a muffled groan and instantly woke up.
It turned out the train had stopped.
Wen Jianyan inhaled sharply, holding his forehead as he sat up.
The carriage was terribly dark and terribly cold.
The warmth in his body seemed to have completely dissipated. Beneath the thin fabric, his skin was as cold as ice, and he couldn’t stop shivering. His joints were incredibly stiff, emitting teeth-aching creaks when he moved. All these details seemed to indicate one thing—he had slept far longer than he imagined.
Wen Jianyan looked around and almost immediately realized something was wrong.
Before, no matter which station they stopped at, the train would sway as “passengers” boarded and disembarked. But this time, it just sat motionless on the tracks.
No one boarded, no one got off.
It was almost as if it was waiting for something.
Could it be…
A certain premonition surfaced in Wen Jianyan’s heart.
He raised his hand to wipe away the fog left by his breath on the window and looked outside.
It was very dark outside.
A bottomless black.
Before, no matter which station they stopped at, he could see the light emanating from the platform outside the train. Although faint and seemingly about to be swallowed by the surroundings in the next second, it genuinely existed. But this time, there was truly nothing outside the window.
Had they arrived at the terminal station?
Wen Jianyan hesitated, sitting in his seat a little longer.
The train’s engine rumbled loudly, sitting motionless on the tracks, giving off a strong vibe that it would never start again until the passenger got off.
It seemed there was no other choice.
Wen Jianyan took a deep breath, packed up all his belongings, and stood up from his seat.
The train doors were wide open, with the crooked steps leading downward.
It was pitch black outside.
Beyond the light overhead was a pool of black water so thick that light couldn’t penetrate it, almost capable of triggering humanity’s most primal fear of the dark.
Wen Jianyan took several deep breaths in a row but still couldn’t find the courage to leave the train.
“…”
He raised his hand, wiped his face, and gritted his teeth.
Alright, let’s go!
Waiting any longer wouldn’t change the current situation anyway.
Wen Jianyan cautiously walked down the steps.
The moment his feet touched solid ground, the train behind him started almost simultaneously. Its speed went from slow to fast, quickly returning to its previous pace, and it rumbled away into the distance. The fierce wind kicked up by the moving train almost blew Wen Jianyan over. He staggered two steps before steadying himself. The train rapidly shrank in his line of sight, its beam of light retreating along the tracks and quickly disappearing, leaving him standing alone in the darkness.
Wen Jianyan turned on his flashlight and looked around.
Just like he had seen from the train, there was nothing here but darkness.
He walked around the spot and stomped hard on the ground.
The noticeably different texture beneath his feet compared to the surroundings told him that this was indeed a “platform,” but there were no signs above it whatsoever.
Is this… the terminal station?
Uncertain, Wen Jianyan pulled that red ticket out of his pocket, wanting to take another look.
However, the moment the ticket came into contact with the air, fine, cobweb-like cracks suddenly surfaced on it. In the blink of an eye, the previously intact ticket turned into fine red sand, slipping through his fingers and disappearing without a trace.
“…”
The Dead Sea Scrolls offered no guidance, and all other avenues for getting answers had sunk like a stone into the sea, along with the failure of his communication methods.
With no other choice, Wen Jianyan could only pull his collar tight and leave the platform.
Strictly speaking, he didn’t know where he was, nor did he know what lay ahead. But strangely, he seemed to vaguely “know” which direction to walk next. It was as if something unseen was guiding him, pulling him toward the depths of the darkness.
There were no roads here, no beacons. Beneath the lightless sky lay a stretching, endless, icy wasteland. The concept of direction didn’t seem to exist here; wherever he walked looked no different from hours ago.
Wen Jianyan trudged forward, his steps uneven. He could no longer tell exactly how long he had been walking. He only felt his legs aching and all the joints in his body creaking in tandem. He had almost reached the absolute limit of his physical stamina.
He didn’t know if it was an illusion, but the number of grave mounds around him seemed to have increased.
Wen Jianyan blinked his sore, swollen eyes, but his gaze suddenly locked onto one of the graves without warning.
That grave seemed taller and larger than any of the surrounding ones, looking exceptionally conspicuous in the empty field of vision.
For some unknown reason, Wen Jianyan felt as though he was being pulled by an invisible force. His legs moved involuntarily, walking step by step in that direction.
He stopped beside the grave and looked down.
Square, empty, with steep edges of grayish-yellow soil, and a bottomless void below.
This was an empty grave.
But, unlike in his memory, this time, there was no one lying inside it.
Blood rushed rapidly in his ears. Wen Jianyan could hear his heart beating wildly out of control. Something seemed to be roaring in his mind, and he couldn’t help but take another step forward—
However, in the next second, something heavy seemed to crash down on his head, like a pitch-black net pressing heavily upon his shoulders. Wen Jianyan’s physical strength was already at its limit. He felt a wave of dizziness, and his body suddenly became unable to move.
Before his consciousness faded, he seemed to hear voices…
Like muffled, noisy human voices coming from far away.
“…Caught it?”
“Caught it!”
“Wait a minute…”
“What’s going on?”
Amidst the chaos, Wen Jianyan’s consciousness sank bit by bit, finally falling completely into a coma.
Drip.
A drop of freezing water fell on his eyelid. The young man’s eyelashes twitched slightly, seemingly finally showing signs of waking up.
“…”
Wen Jianyan opened his eyes. Within his still dizzy, spinning vision, the first thing he saw was an old roof and slightly cracked wooden beams.
His eyes shifted, meeting a pair of pitch-black, round eyes right beside the bed.
“…”
Time seemed to freeze for a moment.
Both parties stiffened because of this unexpected eye contact.
“Mom—Mom—!!”
That half-grown child stumbled back a few steps, tearing their throat and shrieking hysterically.
Wen Jianyan felt a splitting headache. He propped himself up on the edge of the bed and sat up. His voice was hoarse as he tried to nip the chaos in the bud before the other party could cause a scene: “W-wait, don’t call your mom just yet, where is—”
However, the other party didn’t seem to buy it. Instead, they continued screaming while sprinting outside with heavy footsteps.
“That ghost woke up!!!”
…That ghost?
…What do you mean, that ghost?
Wen Jianyan only felt his headache worsen.
Everything that had just happened was as noisy and swift as a hurricane. In the blink of an eye, the child’s screams and footsteps had swept away, leaving only an empty room—it wasn’t until this moment that Wen Jianyan finally had the chance to examine the place he was in.
He was clearly no longer in that realm of death.
What appeared before him was a very down-to-earth dwelling, full of traces of human life.
The house was low, with wooden beams and pillars. The bed beneath him and the style of the furniture in the room looked quite dated, yet they surprisingly appeared very new.
The style of the house here looked very familiar to Wen Jianyan; he felt as if he had seen it somewhere before…
Suddenly, thinking of something unknown, he shuddered violently and threw himself off the bed.
Dragging his still somewhat stiff body, Wen Jianyan stumbled toward the door.
Creak—
The wooden door was forcefully pushed open by him.
Resting one hand on the doorframe, Wen Jianyan looked outside before he even had a chance to catch his breath.
A sky as clear as if it had just been washed, a long bluestone paved road, low wooden houses on both sides—the exact same architectural style, the exact same room layout.
Staring at the unfamiliar yet familiar scene before him, Wen Jianyan felt as if he had been struck by lightning.
He remembered where this was.
But… in Wen Jianyan’s memory, it was nothing like this peaceful and tranquil state.
It had been endless gloomy rain, puddles reflecting stiff white corpses, and dilapidated, ruined cabins.
And beyond the small town, there was a massive building constructed out of flesh and blood.
[Xingwang Hotel].
