"Ah?"
The password was actually eight eights. Biao Zi stared blankly at the diary in his hands as the pale yellow question mark on its cover gradually turned into a green exclamation mark.
A panel appeared before everyone's eyes.
「Thirty-fourth task, Zhang Yi completed.」
Standing nearby, Zhang Yi grinned broadly, scratching the back of his head awkwardly before pulling his younger brother into a hug. At that moment, he discovered something even more satisfying than stuffing things into the Refrigerator.
Using his brain.
He decided that once they returned, he wouldn't just focus on physical training in the Combat Training Virtual Space—he'd also study how to use his mind. He had a talent for it, and he shouldn't waste it.
"Hurry, take a look, look."
Lao Zhu quickly moved closer, and the group huddled around the notebook, carefully scanning from the first page, afraid of missing anything.
-
「April 27, 7257」: Today is my 27th birthday. I don't know what to do. The factory director approached me and hinted that if I agreed to marry his daughter, he would pass his position to me.
But the director clearly knew I had a girlfriend and that I loved her deeply.
To me, true love is something you encounter, not something you seek.
This is a difficult decision. Starting today, I will record my life in this diary.
「April 28, 7257」: I've made up my mind. I broke up with my girlfriend. She cried bitterly, and I was heartbroken too. I think I might have made the wrong choice, losing someone who truly loved me.
「April 29, 7257」: I married the director's daughter in the factory. The director was in a hurry—I don't know why. Even at his daughter's wedding, he could barely smile, just urging us to quickly have a child.
「April 30, 7257」: The director has gone mad. Last night, he forced me to take an Aphrodisiac. I slept with his daughter seven times in one night. This morning, I felt like I was about to die. I don't understand what the director is trying to do.
「May 1, 7257」: I've become the factory director.
「May 2, 7257」: Being the director is great, except the old director keeps pushing me to sleep with his daughter. I feel an unknown fear creeping in.
「May 18, 7257」: I'm gradually learning how to manage the factory. But for some reason, orders have suddenly dropped significantly. We're a Military Factory. For years, the Mechanical Civilization and the Insectoid Race have supposedly been at war for centuries, providing us with endless weapon production orders. Could the war be ending?
「May 31, 7257」: Orders are dwindling. The war really might be stopping. I hope it continues for a few more centuries—I just became director and haven't made any money yet!
「June 15, 7257」: After becoming director, I ruthlessly humiliated the old employees in the Processing Department who used to give me a hard time. Heh, it felt great. But I've never gone back to the Processing Department—that's where I met and fell in love with my ex-girlfriend. I'm afraid I might regret my current decisions.
"June 15, 7257": No regrets. Life now is like paradise compared to before—how could I regret it? I was half-asleep this morning. Won't write diaries in the morning anymore.
"June 30, 7257": I'm afraid of my current wife. She comes to me several times a day. When I asked her why, she said it was Father's request. Is her father some kind of pervert? Did he hide cameras in my room? Does he enjoy watching his daughter get—?
"July 1, 7257": I searched my room thoroughly—no cameras. But today, my father-in-law came again, urging me impatiently, as if he wanted me to do it right in front of him. I feel like he's hiding a lot from me.
"August 13, 7257": The factory's 'Giant Gear Set' broke today. The in-house repairmen couldn't fix it, so I hired an outside specialist. While he was working, his wife brought him lunch. I recognized her instantly—she's the woman I love. When our eyes met, she looked away. For some reason, the moment I saw her, I wanted to abandon everything I have now just to hold her again.
"August 13, 7257": I drank too much—maybe I'm drunk. I regret it. I truly regret it. She's still so gentle. What's so great about being a factory director? If I could go back, I'd choose her over this position. But… it's too late. I can still feel it—she loves me. She still loves me.
"September 1, 7257": I built a hidden room behind my office. The south wall is one-way glass. I've started calling that repairman in more often to fix equipment. While he works, I take his wife into the hidden room and… fix her instead.
Everything seems unchanged.
Yet something feels different.
She's changed.
She's become coy—morality tells her this is wrong, but our love makes her enjoy it. I'm furious, venting my jealousy. I'm the factory director, and he's just a damned repairman.
Why does he get to openly have the woman I love?!
The thought of sneaking around like this while that lowly repairman flaunts his possession of her drives me mad. Jealousy nearly robbed me of my senses—I almost strangled her.
"September 10, 7257": She's grown much more relaxed. At first, she didn't dare look at her husband while he worked. Now, she presses against the glass, staring straight at him. I've never seen this side of her before.
She used to be loyal.
I never imagined I'd see her like this—cheating, yet looking so alluring.
I think I'm sick. I think I'm a monster.
"September 30, 7257": The factory hasn't received a single order in seven days. Strangely, my father-in-law has stopped pressuring me. From the news, it seems the Mechanical Civilization is advancing aggressively, winning battle after battle. I don't know what's gotten into him, but he's been drinking heavily. Today, he even raped a female employee in front of everyone at the factory.
Has he lost his mind?
He was behaving as if he had a large number of memory chips implanted all at once, causing his memories to become chaotic.
If he had such needs, he could have told me—I would have taken him to my secret chamber.
Thankfully, I suppressed the news within the factory. Otherwise, if it got out, he'd be sent to prison.
"October 11, 7257": I've figured out how to sabotage the 'Giant Gear Set'—just enough to render it irreparable by the factory workers without causing major issues. All it takes is striking the intake vent seven times with a hammer, then the exhaust vent three times. I'm a genius.
"November 10, 7257": Winter has arrived. My father-in-law has grown increasingly deranged. It's been a long time since I've shared a bed with my wife—she seems resentful, but I don't care. I never loved her. From the very beginning, the Woman I loved was only one person.
Lately, I've had to call the repairman almost every day.
I'm sinking deeper into this affair.
Even—
What began as inner turmoil and guilt has now become something I relish. I've started to enjoy her seductive charm during these stolen moments, a side of her I've never seen before. I'm addicted to... this.
Everyone seems to have gone mad, but I'm happy.
"November 15, 7257": The factory hasn't received a single order in two months. It might shut down soon. Today, something major happened—the Mechanical Civilization suddenly changed its calendar.
How bizarre.
The Mechanical Civilization's calendar has always been 365 days a year.
The war against the Insectoid Race began before I was born and has lasted nearly 296 years. I've long grown accustomed to hearing news of the Mechanical Civilization's victories.
The supreme leader of the Mechanical Civilization appeared on screen and altered all databases. From now on, their calendar would count each passing day as a year. What kind of absurd calendar is this?
What civilization has a "year" that lasts only 24 hours?
The Mechanical Civilization has existed for nearly 7,258 years, maintaining this calendar system all along. Why change it so abruptly, without warning?
But since the supreme leader decreed it, we have no choice but to comply.
"Year 2,649,170": Yes, when I woke up this morning and the display automatically showed this year, I nearly thought I'd traveled through time in my daze. Such an enormous number. Overnight, the entire Mechanical Civilization's database calendar had been revised.
Originally, the war between the Mechanical Civilization and the Insectoid Race had lasted 295 years—nearly 296.
But now—
It's suddenly been stretched to 107,991 years.
Almost 110,000 years!
This is insane. What's the point of such a massive number? From now on, I'll have to write several extra digits in my diary. It's distorting my sense of time—how am I supposed to calculate my age now? One year older every day?
Is this the leadership's solution to citizens' short lifespans?
Well, I suppose it technically works.
"Year 2,649,171": Today's news was quite amusing. Many people, holding citizen cards claiming they were tens of thousands of years old, went to apply for retirement pensions. Hilarious.
Also.
My father-in-law has completely lost his mind. He's truly gone mad.
After raping yet another male employee, he drunkenly pointed at my nose and called me a useless waste, saying I couldn't even bear children, that I was doomed, that only newborns would have a chance to survive, and that everyone else would die.
He said he'd initially taken a liking to me because of my good waist—fit for bearing children.
His insults were filthy.
I was furious. If I hadn't cleaned up his mess today, he would have been arrested by the Enforcement Bureau for intentional assault!
"Year 2749173": Life feels increasingly dull, lacking excitement. Today, while secretly meeting her in a hidden room, she whispered to me that her husband might have found out.
Last night, when they were together, her husband fell silent for a long time before stopping and going to sleep.
Life just got more exciting.
Anyway, I'm rich. Even if I'm discovered, I can make it go away.
-
"That's it?"
Biao Zi looked at the last page with lingering dissatisfaction. "Feels like reading a novel. I really want to know how it ends. Cutting off here is just cruel—people who abandon stories like this deserve to have children born without assholes."
"He can't have children anymore!"
Lao Zhu shot Biao Zi an exasperated glance. "Didn't you hear? The Mechanical Civilization and the Insectoid Race fought for 107,991 years, but they were only wiped out after 108,000 years. That means, by the time he wrote his last diary entry, the Mechanical Civilization had just five years left."
"Oh."
"Which is five days."
"Before their downfall, the Mechanical Civilization altered their calendar. Probably didn't want outsiders to know the Insectoid Race wiped them out in just over 200 years. A hundred and eight thousand years sounds much more impressive."
"If you ask me, they were too conservative. Should've made it one hour equal to one year."
"That way, it'd be 2.5 million years before extinction. A civilization that fought that long would sound incredibly powerful, like they were evenly matched."
"In the remaining days, this guy got found out and was killed by the repairman and his wife. That's how the story ends."
"Wang Ziru is really a piece of work," Biao Zi sighed with emotion.
"That repairman was just living honestly, bothering no one. With their civilization on the brink of extinction, this guy had to go and ruin his peace. If you're gonna hide it, do it properly. Let everyone enjoy their last days in ignorance—at least they'd die happy."
"There are two kinds of people I hate most in life: freeloaders and homewreckers."
"This bastard was both."
"Disgusting!"
"Disgusting my ass. You lose your mind the second someone praises you." Lao Zhu smacked Biao Zi on the head with the notebook and strode ahead. "What are we here for? To be film critics? Why don't you go write a long review on Douban while you're at it?"
"Get your ass moving and help me finish the mission! We're running out of time!"
"Right, right."
Biao Zi hurried after him. "Got a little too into it. Let's go, let's go. And I never go to places like Douban—don't insult me like that."
Soon.
The group arrived at the factory's core area. Biao Zi picked up a rubber mallet from the ground and handed it to Lao Zhu. "Train Conductor Zhu, seven taps on the intake, three on the exhaust. You want to do the honors?"
"Why are you giving it to me? Do it yourself."
"You do it this time. I've performed a bit too well, completed too many tasks. Don't want to overdo it—feels a bit showy."
"..."
Lao Zhu expressionlessly took the soft hammer, stood before the Giant Gear Set, took a deep breath, and swung—seven times on the left, three on the right.
The next moment—
"Task thirty-five, Lao Zhu completed."
"Last task now."
He glanced at his watch: "37 minutes left. Everyone, scatter and find the final task. Success or failure hinges on this!"
Inside the train compartment.
Chen Mang looked out the window at the nearly thousand Level 17 Zombies surrounding the Train. Fortunately, the Train Armor was Level 18, making the Zombies unable to breach it. The long-reserved Doomsday Cannon finally roared to life, precisely picking off Zombie after Zombie.
The Viper Unmanned Fighters in the air also kept up their relentless assault.
These Zombies dropped nothing upon death—not even Corpse Meat.
"Phew..."
Chen Mang checked the progress and the countdown on the console screen, relieved. Just 37 minutes left, with only one task remaining. Find and complete it, and they'd clear the stage!
Damn!
This was the toughest Serendipity Map he'd ever encountered—bar none!
Especially since flying was restricted here. Thankfully, only the Train was grounded, or his unmanned fighters would've been useless too.
But time was on their side. They were definitely clearing this run.
With a light chuckle, he lit a cigarette and leaned back in his chair, the tension easing slightly. Only then did he start carefully reviewing the diary entries flashing on the screen.
This diary held many hidden clues.
For instance—
The message displayed when the second stage began claimed the Mechanical Civilization fought for 108,000 years before admitting total defeat. Complete nonsense. In their final moments before collapse, their last act wasn't to inform the public of the truth—it was to revise the calendar.
Fascinating logic.
Hard to imagine normal people thinking like that.
It's like... getting hit by a car and your first instinct isn't calling an ambulance, but frantically deleting your browser history. As if reputation mattered more than life itself—even posthumous reputation had to be stubbornly preserved.
Why did the civilization's defeat cascade so catastrophically?
Just days before the Mechanical Civilization's collapse, this factory had no idea what was coming. How could everyone die the instant defeat was declared? Even if their defenses fell, exterminating populations across so many inhabited planets should've taken time. An instantaneous genocide?
That fast?
He fully believed the Mechanical Civilization's news reports of great victories were real—just that the Insectoid Race's triumphs went unreported, despite being far more frequent.
Poor Mechanical Civilization.
Good souls.
Even facing extinction, they passed down their Mechanical methods, giving civilizations like theirs—far too primitive to leave their planet—some means to survive the Insectoid invasion.
Another revelation: even in the Mechanical Civilization, humans seemed to dominate, with robots in the minority—or at least not in leadership roles.
Chen Mang shook his head with a wry smile, not dwelling on it further.
He stubbed out the nearly spent cigarette in a nearby soda can.
He no longer had the heart to mourn the Mechanical Civilization. He felt that in just a few years, he might have to start mourning the human civilization as well. Poor human civilization.
Even the fully operational Mechanical Civilization couldn't hold back the Insectoid Race!
How could the human civilization, which had inherited the methods of the Mechanical Civilization, possibly withstand the Insectoid Race? When the main forces—no, even a small detachment of the regular army—arrived on Aqua Blue Star, it would mean total annihilation. The Insectoid Race on Aqua Blue Star probably didn't even qualify as vanguards—they were more like auxiliary personnel.
But—
It seemed the Mechanical Civilization didn't have his Level 0 authority.
"...He looked at the birthmark on his left hand, the character "mang" etched into his skin. If human civilization had any hope of surviving the jaws of the Insectoid Race, it lay solely in his Level 0 authority, which could be upgraded infinitely—provided he had enough resources.
He alone could hold back the entire Insectoid Race!
After all, in theory, he could upgrade his 「Armor」 straight to Level 999. No matter how formidable the Insectoid Race was, could they possibly have Level 999 monsters?
This was beyond reason!
Sheer invincibility!
He needed to gather resources even faster. Otherwise, everyone on Aqua Blue Star would perish.
Once he had developed his strength and officially rebuilt human civilization, what was the Insectoid Race? He would slaughter them to the brink of extinction, then keep the remnants in a zoo.
Time continued to slip away, and the composure on Chen Mang's face gradually faded.
At this moment—
The Zombies outside the train had already reached Level 18. The copper ore was completely exhausted, and the 「Energy Stones」 powering those fighter jets had long been depleted. They had already replaced the Energy Stones four times—a single Level 4 Energy Stone cost 500,000.
With 41 units in total, replacing one batch cost 20.5 million.
Four batches meant 80 million!
His train only had a little over 60 million units of iron ore, all of which had been used up. The extra 20 million units had been taken from Neon City—those were originally meant to correspond to the Stellar Coupons held by other Train Conductors.
He had embezzled them.
Neon City wouldn't reopen for another week, so for now, he wasn't worried about being unable to cover the deficit.
But the crisis was clearly far worse than he had anticipated!
A thousand Level 18 Zombies.
If the train didn't have Level 18 Armor, it wouldn't stand a chance. Even so, it was nearly impossible to eliminate all these Zombies within 15 minutes. Although the Level 20 Automatic Cannons on the Viper Unmanned Fighters could penetrate their defenses, their effectiveness had weakened significantly as the Zombies leveled up.
If the Zombies weren't eliminated within the allotted time, it would be an automatic failure.
Only four minutes remained.
He glanced out the window—over 400 Level 18 Zombies were still standing. His expression darkened as he rasped, "Xiao Ai, send Zhang Yi and Zhang Er out to fight. We can't keep up."
"Tell everyone."
"Including five minutes for regrouping, we have at most nine minutes left. If we still haven't found the final mission by then, this operation will be declared a failure!"
He hadn't expected this.
Nearly half an hour had passed, and not only had they failed to complete the final mission—they hadn't even located it yet.
Time was running out.
The next wave—a thousand Level 19 Zombies—would be impossible for the Stellar Train to withstand. They were completely out of ammunition and supplies.
Empty.
The landlord truly had no surplus grain left.
Neon City only had about 20 million units of iron ore in reserve. Most people had exchanged their Stellar Coupons for iron ore before leaving Neon City, and now all 20 million units have been used up.
To put it simply.
Both Neon City and the Stellar are now empty!
The train currently only has 120,000 units of iron ore left.
"Hurry up... hurry, hurry!"
Chen Mang glanced at the horde of zombies outside the train and the Zhang brothers piloting the Pope Mecha emerging from the factory, then muttered under his breath while watching Biao Zi and the others' progress on the screen.
Eight minutes left.
Only eight minutes remaining!
"No, no!" Biao Zi, his eyes bloodshot, slapped himself hard and rasped, "I can't calm down to think right now. My mind's a mess. Only eight minutes left—what do we do, what do we do?!"
"The Stellar's cannons have been roaring nonstop from start to finish. This time, we've nearly exhausted all the resources we've stockpiled over these past days."
"If we fail and return empty-handed, it's all over!"
Just then—
"Shut up!"
Lao Zhu cut him off coldly, his expression stern as he looked at the group and spoke word by word: "Time's running out. Cut the nonsense."
"One thing's certain—we've searched every corner of the factory and couldn't find the last task. But have you noticed? These thirty-six tasks are all connected."
"They form a storyline."
"Showing us what happened in this mechanical factory."
"Including the first task Li Shiji completed—the guard standing in the security booth. He used to be a soldier, discharged for misconduct and demoted to security. But he never accepted it, still seeing himself as a soldier, wearing his dog tags around his neck every day, never speaking to anyone."
"Each task is a story. When pieced together, the whole narrative is complete, without a single gap."
"Like a jigsaw puzzle already perfectly assembled."
"If you spent a long time completing a puzzle, what would you do next?!"
"Don't bother answering—I'll say it: frame it!"
"Yes, that's it! Why did I only think of this now? Frame it!"
Lao Zhu had been stuck earlier, just organizing his thoughts while hoping for input from the others. But the more he spoke, the clearer the answer became. Growing increasingly animated, he grabbed his walkie-talkie and shouted:
"Director Ai! Get that novelist kid over here at top speed!"
"Eight minutes left—hurry, hurry, I need speed!!!"
He'd figured it out!
The final task was to frame it—yes, frame it!
These thirty-six tasks, each corresponding to a story, all interconnected. After completing thirty-five, the story was fully told. The last step was to record and compile the complete narrative—that was the final task!
"Move!"
Lao Zhu shoved Biao Zi, urgency sharpening his tone: "Go to the factory entrance, bring that kid here, then race back to the director's office!"
In the entire factory, only the director's computer was functional.
It had been without power initially, but after completing one task—repairing the Generator—the computer became operational again.
Yet no software could be opened.
The desktop displayed only a blank document.
He'd thought it might be a clue but never found a use for it—until now. This wasn't just a clue; it was the task itself.
"Everyone quiet! Shut up!"
Inside the director's office.
Xiao Ai swiftly compiled the factory's events into a narrative, the text appearing on the young man's Iris Chip.
The young man sat in front of the computer, his face slightly tense as his fingers flew across the keyboard like a whirlwind, typing rapidly without time for thought. He mechanically input each character from the Iris Chip into the blank document.
On the entire Stellar Train,
only this young man had the fastest typing speed. Xiao Ai's mechanical fingers couldn't match such dexterity.
In these final moments, all hope rested on him.
Lao Zhu covered his mouth, breathing only through his nose, afraid his rapid breaths might disturb the young man's focus. Glancing at the countdown on the Iris Chip—only seven minutes remained.
The document compiled by Director Ai was 1,523 characters long.
Seven minutes. 1,500 characters!
For the truly exceptional, this speed wasn't impossible. Before the apocalypse, some stenographers could hit 800 characters per minute in typing competitions. But in real life, 1,500 characters in seven minutes was already an insane benchmark.
Nearly impossible to achieve!
Everyone stood behind the young man, eyes glued to the screen, barely daring to breathe. After 250 characters were typed, a pale yellow question mark slowly appeared on the screen.
As expected!
This was the final task—framing the previous thirty-five tasks into one cohesive whole.
Six minutes left.
A flicker of hope flashed in Lao Zhu's eyes. At 250 characters per minute, the pace was more than enough. But then—
Perhaps due to nerves, or maybe because the typing was too fast—
A red error character flashed on the screen. The young man, focused solely on the Iris Chip, hadn't noticed. But once the error appeared, none of his subsequent keystrokes registered. The mistake had to be corrected before typing could continue.
"Error! Fix the error!" Lao Zhu urged urgently. "Look at the screen first!"
The delay cost precious seconds.
In a race against time, even a few seconds wasted was catastrophic.
"10"
"9"
"8"
Lao Zhu trembled as he watched the countdown on the Iris Chip. Seventy-eight characters left—hurry, hurry!
Never in his life had seventy-eight characters weighed so heavily on his mind.
"7"
"6"
"5"
Twenty-seven characters remained.
Biao Zi clenched his fists so tightly his nails dug into his palms, yet he felt no pain. His eyes were locked onto the screen. Five seconds—twenty-seven characters. Go! The final stretch—just a little more!
They were almost there.
"4"
"3"
"2"
Seven characters left!
Two seconds—plenty of time!
"1"
"0"
As the countdown hit zero, the young man slumped into his chair, turning to Lao Zhu and the others with a shaky smile. "Train Conductor Zhu... I did it."
"We did it."
"Why... why aren't you smiling?"
Seeing the ashen faces of Biao Zi and the others, the young man froze. A dreadful possibility surfaced in his mind. With difficulty, he turned back to the screen—where a red error character blinked mockingly.
With just two characters left, he had made a mistake.
The countdown had ended.
The mission had failed.
The young man's face instantly turned deathly pale as he froze in place, trembling as he corrected the wrong character and finished the last one. But... the countdown had already ended. At this point, even completing it was meaningless.
Everyone stood rigid, their faces drained of color.
Outside the window, the growls of zombies echoed—this time deeper and more resonant than ever before.
"Come back."
Lord Mang's weary voice reached everyone's ears: "You've done enough. The mission failed, but the fault isn't ours—it's fate."
"We were so close to winning."
"Just a little short on luck."
"Fate may not always favor the Stellar, but you all performed well this time. With you aboard, the Stellar will go far."
"Come back. If we don't leave now, it'll be too late. Everyone will die here."
Inside the Stellar's carriage,
Chen Mang sat in his chair, silently watching the horde of a thousand Level 19 zombies slowly closing in on the train.
He had been waiting for a miracle.
He had even imagined it many times—when the miracle finally happened, he would leap up in excitement, throw a grand celebration in Neon City, and offer heartfelt congratulations to everyone who made it possible. But this time, fate had not smiled upon him.
Just a few seconds short—the scales of victory had tipped the other way.
Perhaps the reason people clung to the hope of miracles was precisely because miracles mostly existed in others' stories, never gracing their own.
Everyone longed for a miracle to happen to them, only to realize at the end of the tale that miracles were a luxury not everyone could afford.
The Viper unmanned fighters had run out of ammunition. The copper ore was exhausted.
They were completely out of resources.
They could still scrape together some iron ore—by dismantling refrigerators, devouring a few carriages like Carriage 15, or opening a temporary high-price purchase in Neon City. But... it was all futile now.
The most critical issue was—the armor wasn't strong enough!
Nine automatic cannons and forty-one unmanned fighters couldn't suppress a thousand Level 19 zombies. Many would break through the barrage and engage the train in close combat. The train's armor couldn't withstand that many zombies.
If they didn't declare retreat now, the Stellar—which had already gained some renown—might silently perish here.
All 6,000 residents aboard the Stellar would die.
"Train Conductor..."
Xiao Ai, standing nearby, opened his mouth as if to say something but couldn't find the words. He realized he didn't know how to comfort someone. Lord Mang had always been bold and spirited, never needing consolation. Now, when it was truly needed, he found himself speechless.
In the distance, the zombies moved slowly, almost leisurely, forming a tightening circle around the Stellar.
"It's fine."
Chen Mang lit a cigarette and tossed the lighter onto the table. After a long silence, he finally murmured, "I've failed many times in my life, but I've always gotten back up. That's why I've never feared failure."
"In life, failure is the norm. Success is just an occasional visitor."
"We haven't lost much, just some resources. Let's get everyone back quickly. As long as we're alive, there's always hope."
"Prepare to retreat."
"Just an heir to a mechanical civilization—it's not like I care that much anyway."
Right then—
"Lord Mang!"
Biao Zi burst through the door, his eyes bloodshot as he rasped, "We haven't completely failed yet! If we can hold out through this and eliminate all these Level 19 Zombies within the time limit, we'll still succeed in the mission!"
"We haven't lost yet!"
"All Guardians, requesting permission to engage!"
"Eliminate them?"
Chen Mang lifted his eyelids and glanced at Biao Zi, speaking softly.
"Iron Ore, exhausted."
"Copper Ore, exhausted."
"Everything we could use is gone. We're out of cards to play—time to leave the table."
"That's 1,000 Level 19 Zombies. Even the strongest monsters in the red zone are only Level 18. These are creatures you'd only encounter in a gold-tier zone. How do you plan to kill 1,000 of them in 15 minutes?"
"With Zhang Yi and Zhang Er's two Pope Mecha?"
"With you? You can't even break their defenses."
"Stay calm. Don't act like life or death hinges on one failure. We're not like before, where one failure meant death. The Stellar Train can afford to lose now. That's what we call foundation—the capital to start over after failure."
"Prepare to go home."
With that, Chen Mang shook his head and said nothing more. He merely scanned the encroaching Corpse Tide forming a tightening circle, ready to abandon this Serendipity Map and leave.
"There's still a chance!"
Biao Zi shouted urgently, his voice hoarse with desperation. "Lord Mang, there's a chance! Don't you remember how you killed those rabbits last time? Use the Space Gate—use it to kill these zombies!"
"These zombies are the same size as normal ones. The train can fit them all."
"If we eliminate them, we win!"
"The mission isn't completely lost yet."
"Space Gate?"
Chen Mang tilted his head and chuckled at Biao Zi. "Last time, there were only a few rabbits. Here, there are 1,000. And I only get one shot—'Space Stasis' can't be used twice in quick succession."
"You're telling me to let 1,000 Level 19 Zombies inside the Stellar Train?"
"Do you think all the zombies will just mindlessly charge in? What if they stay outside and attack the train's armor? Are you going to lure them in, or am I?"
"If that happens, everyone will die."
But soon, the smile on his face froze. He understood what Biao Zi meant. Looking at the approaching horde and Biao Zi's burning eyes filled with unwillingness and pleading, he paused, sighed softly, and picked up the walkie-talkie on the table.
Truth be told, he wasn't ready to give up either.
This plan was risky, but if it succeeded, it wouldn't be a failure—it'd be a comeback from the brink.
"All Train Residents, evacuate to the Neon City immediately."
"All Guardians, heed your squad leaders' commands and disembark!"
Chen Mang's voice echoed throughout the Stellar Train.
Biao Zi, who had been kneeling on the ground, scrambled to his feet. His bloodshot eyes fixed on Lord Mang as he grinned hoarsely. "Lord Mang, thank you for taking this gamble. The Stellar Train won't lose."
"Never in the past, not now, and never in the future."
"The Stellar is invincible!"
With that, he strode out of the train carriage, where the Third Squad Leader and everyone else had already gathered outside.
"On my command!"
Biao Zi took the briefcase handed by Shan Mao Zi and roared, "Lure all the zombies into the carriages! Not a single one gets away!"
The next moment—
Just as the zombies were about to surround the Stellar.
The Stellar Train sprang into action. All its doors swung wide open, completely unguarded. The residents had already retreated to the Neon City at top speed. Once "Space Stasis" ended, they would be responsible for pushing the zombies in the carriages into the Space Gate.
"Seems like we really can't afford to lose," Chen Mang muttered as he lit a cigarette, gazing out the window at Biao Zi and the others charging off the train, and the approaching Corpse Tide. He could accept one defeat, but the people below would rather die than accept that the Stellar could ever lose.
Somehow, the Stellar had become the sole faith for many in this apocalypse. Most couldn't bear to see their faith crumble.
The Stellar would not lose.
Even if it did, they'd die before the Stellar did.
In that case—
Let's take the gamble. Though the failure rate is high, the success rate isn't low either.
"Xiao Ai, assess the success rate of this plan."
"100%."
"Tsk."
Chen Mang sat back in his chair, taking 112,000 units of Iron Ore from the remaining 120,000 to forge two brand-new Level 10 "Space Gates." He ch
uckled lightly as he glanced at the "Absolute Defense" Train Stunt displayed on the control screen.
"You've learned to lie now."
"I'm not lying. The Stellar won't lose."
"Hope you're right. But... we've only got 14 minutes left. We need to hurry."
Chen Mang scanned the remaining resources on the control screen and murmured under his breath.
"Since everyone wants to witness a miracle..."
"Then—"
"Let's make sure that miracle makes a grand and glorious entrance."
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