Translator: CinderTL
Suddenly, a hand covered Jiang Cheng's fist, causing him to freeze in surprise.
It was the old woman sitting across from him. Slowly, she raised her head, revealing a face etched with wrinkles.
"Don't act rashly," she whispered, her voice low and urgent. She flicked her eyes to her right, signaling Jiang Cheng to look.
Across the narrow aisle, a man sat with his head bowed, seemingly resting. Beneath his arm lay a short blade, its hilt wrapped tightly with strips of white cloth.
A Japanese man.
He looked formidable.
If Jiang Cheng made a rash move, the blade could easily slip between his ribs before he could react.
The Japanese guard who had first noticed Jiang Cheng approached, his eyes narrowing with suspicion and malice. He clearly hadn't seen Jiang Cheng before.
"He's my son-in-law," the old woman explained, gesturing wildly as if the guard might not understand.
The guard clearly understood, but he didn't believe her. Jiang Cheng was far too clean and well-dressed compared to the ragged refugees around them.
Slowly, the guard's hand crept toward the knife hilt.
"That's right, he's the Zhou Family's son-in-law. I can vouch for that," another man said, standing up from nearby.
"Yes, we've all seen him. His name is Liu Ergou, and he's the Zhou Family's live-in son-in-law," more and more people chimed in, rising to Jiang Cheng's defense. "You can't just slaughter innocent people!"
Their voices trembled with suppressed rage, the fear in their eyes gradually being replaced by anger and defiance. In that instant, Jiang Cheng saw the key to breaking free, reflected in their collective gaze.
It was a conviction, a force of will.
As the middle-aged man beside Xia Meng had once explained, Abnormalities weren't like Ghosts. Rather than being bizarre entities, they were embodiments of twisted wills.
The Gate inherited by the Great High Priest was such a distorted will, its power to plunge people into endless despair—just like this journey of no return.
And the only thing capable of truly shattering it was an unyielding will.
The previous Great High Priest had been defeated, turning the Gate within him against him and forcing him to seek a successor. This was all because of the fierce resistance of countless compatriots in the gold mine.
That unyielding will was the backbone of a nation.
But his own hope alone wasn't enough. He needed to ignite the unyielding will within every passenger on this train, within every compatriot.
With these thoughts swirling in his mind, Jiang Cheng slowly pried his hand from the old woman's grasp, stood up, and declared in a firm, unwavering tone, "First, thank you all. But my name isn't Liu Ergou, nor am I the Zhou Family's son-in-law. My name is Jiang Cheng, and to be precise, I'm a junior to everyone here."
"I came here by chance, but it's more likely that I'll die here, just like you all."
"But upon reflection, I realize I'm different from you seniors. Though death awaits us all, I refuse to let them trample, enslave, and insult me before they kill me."
"And even after they kill me, I won't let them point at my corpse and sneer, 'Look at that spineless fool!'"
"What will I do?" Jiang Cheng's gaze slowly swept across the faces around him, a mixture of disdain and anticipation in his eyes.
"I'll fight them! Even if I die, I won't let those bastards gloat!"
"I refuse to have my descendants dig up my bones decades from now, only to find me still kneeling in surrender, hands raised in defeat!"
Jiang Cheng's voice rose steadily, growing impassioned and fervent, making it impossible to discern whether he was acting or speaking from the depths of his heart.
"I won't let my descendants be ashamed of me, whispering behind their backs that I was a coward!"
"We can all die, anyone can die, but we will never surrender! We've lived on this land for millennia. By what right do they slaughter our people, seize our homes, and force us into exile, where we endure endless torment?"
"Watch out!" A figure suddenly shoved Jiang Cheng aside, and a streak of blood flashed before his eyes.
A furious Japanese guard, hidden in the shadows, had swung his katana at Jiang Cheng from an impossible angle. But the old woman spotted the attack and pushed him out of the way just in time.
The blade struck her instead. Her body collapsed onto Jiang Cheng, and her severed head rolled across the floor, striking the wall with a sickening thud.
Tears of blood streamed from her eyes, filled with anguish and unyielding defiance.
The horrifying scene triggered a sudden memory: when they first boarded the train, another old woman had fallen at Huai Yi's feet, her head rolling far away.
Back then, they had dismissed it as a scam.
"Fight them!" A shrill, raspy voice erupted. A wiry man leaped from his seat and tackled the guard who had killed the old woman.
Like a spark falling into dry kindling, the stifling tension in the train car instantly erupted into flames.
Anger overwhelmed fear as the passengers, eyes blazing red, surged toward the nearest guards with ferocious roars. Men, women, the elderly, and even teenagers joined the fray.
"You dare rebel?" A Japanese guard shouted, cutting down a man with his katana. Before he could finish, another passenger roared and tackled him to the ground, followed by a swarm of bodies piling on top.
The crowd surged like a tidal wave, with Jiang Cheng riding at its crest.
The skilled Japanese swordsman felled several attackers before Jiang Cheng kicked him sprawling. The enraged passengers swarmed him, beating him to death with their fists and feet.
Jiang Cheng had ignited the pent-up fury and resentment within the passengers. The rebellion spread rapidly as the sounds of fighting and deafening roars echoed from neighboring carriages. Years of suppressed anger finally burst forth, coalescing into a terrifying force.
Leading the charge, Jiang Cheng methodically cleared each car. Within minutes, he and his companions had slaughtered their way through nearly the entire Mayflower Express train.
In the second-to-last car, Jiang Cheng and his group finally cornered Director Qiao.
At that moment, the man was scrambling under the table.
Jiang Cheng didn't bother listening to his excuses. With a swift kick, he sent the man sprawling to the floor. The enraged crowd swarmed over him, his fate sealed.
Throughout history, traitors have always met the same end.
Jiang Cheng paused before the last carriage.
As he fought his way through the train, he had noticed peculiar anomalies. No matter how chaotic the scenes inside the carriages became, only his own reflection ever appeared in the windows.
It was as if everything he had experienced had never truly existed.
In this bizarre world, he alone seemed real, while everything else was merely a fleeting illusion, a bubble on the verge of bursting.
"From here on, I'll walk alone," Jiang Cheng said.
Perhaps understanding his words, the crowd behind him fell silent. Then, a man spoke, his voice hoarse but resolute: "Thank you, Jiang Cheng. You've given us a chance to choose again."
Pushing open the gate before him, Jiang Cheng felt a heavy weight in his heart.
History couldn't be changed. All Jiang Cheng could do was lead the wronged souls of the Mayflower in one final, desperate scream of anger, a scream buried deep within their hearts.
A dim, yellow lamp hung from the ceiling of the last carriage. Inside, there was only a single iron chair, upon which sat a massive scarecrow.
The eerie sensation had long since faded, and the scarecrow now appeared lifeless.
Neither Crippled Liu nor the resurrected child had ever been more than mere vessels for this scarecrow. Their sole purpose had been to perpetuate the scarecrow's existence—or, more precisely, to carry on the twisted will it embodied.
Riiiiip.
The scarecrow split open down the middle, revealing a face hidden within.
It was Fu Fu.
She was completely encased in the straw figure, only her face visible. Her eyes were closed, as if she were asleep.
Jiang Cheng stepped forward, tore open the scarecrow, and pulled the unconscious Fu Fu out.
As he wondered how to dispose of the scarecrow, its body suddenly twitched. Then, slowly, it began to drag itself into the darkness behind them.
It felt as if unseen hands were pulling it away.
In the darkness, a pair of blood-red eyes flickered into existence.
"Wu?"
Jiang Cheng immediately understood Wu's intentions. He, too, had his sights set on the scarecrow. As fellow Abnormalities, he wouldn't miss the chance to devour its kind.
Especially since he possessed a comic book capable of absorbing Ghosts and converting them into Urban Legends.
As the scarecrow's aura completely dissipated, the blood-red eyes turned their attention to the unconscious Fu Fu. But before they could act, the already unstable space began to tremble violently.
This world had been constructed by the scarecrow. Now that its core had been taken by Wu, the space was collapsing.
In the next instant, the ground vanished beneath their feet. When they opened their eyes again, they were lying on a grassy field.
Trees surrounded them, and the air was thick with the earthy scent of soil.
They were on a familiar-looking hillside, not far from Grey Stone Town.
"Doctor!" Fatty's deafening shout startled Jiang Cheng, making him jump. He whirled around to find Fatty's massive face looming over him.
"Doctor, you're amazing! We made it out!" Fatty exclaimed excitedly.
(End of the Chapter)
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