"Don't look—run!"

Lin Xian’s voice boomed like a war drum through the earpieces of Shi Diyuan and Ning Jing. At that very moment, everyone in the cockpit of Dragon Mountain No. 1 felt the temperature in the carriage drop by ten degrees. The instant he snapped back to awareness, Shi Diyuan broke into a cold sweat. He immediately slammed the button to close the cockpit windows.

"Full speed—rely on the drones and onboard navigation. No one look in that direction!"

The very moment Lin Xian saw the statue, he recognized it: the Merlion of Lion City, devoured by Abyss Zone No. 5 on Apocalypse Day. That thing had no business appearing here, in the uninhabited Western Gobi, and certainly not in such an eerie manner.

A floating colossus, twisted light, blood-weeping lion eyes—when the human brain tried to process that image, it felt as if billions of chaotic signals flooded the neurons, shaking the very sense of reality. It was like one's soul was being corroded by their own vision.

It was nothing like when Lin Xian saw that silver bullet. This—this thing felt like it came from an entirely different dimension.

BOOM!!!

Suddenly, across the vast wasteland, an unexplained thunderclap rang out. No one could tell if it came from the sky or the earth, but it made the already tense atmosphere inside the convoy stretch to the breaking point.

[System detecting pilot vitals...]

[Vitals stable. Heart rate... temperature...]

[Unified Control System initializing...]

A light screen flashed across Lin Xian’s eyes. System reboot complete. Progress bars loaded. Modules for mobility, defense, radar, situational awareness, life support—each interface popped onto the display.

Shhk-shhk-shhk! Lin Xian quickly closed all the blackout panels of the train. His heart thumped wildly. Just then, the statue turned—toward the convoy. As it moved further away, it somehow grew even larger, as if space itself were collapsing toward it.

Realizing the danger, Lin Xian sprinted toward Carriage 2 while yelling into the comms:

"Everyone, don't look to the left side of the train!"

All the convoy leaders jolted and rushed to relay the command to their teams.

“No way…”

Inside the Fu Lu Shou RV, Hu Lushou had been on edge the whole time. Now his face went ghost-white. He yanked the curtain shut beside the window—then hesitated.

Wait, this is the right side, isn’t it? He quickly pulled the curtain open again—and in that moment, he glanced southward across the uninhabited zone.

“Lin Xian, look now!”

In Carriage 2's Information Center, KIKI’s eyes were wide, staring at the monitor. Her mouth opened slightly in shock, unable to speak.

Lin Xian and Chen Sixuan burst in one after another, just in time to see a horrific sight on the screen.

To the left of the train, a rust-colored desert Gobi blazed beneath the setting sun. But to the south on the right, the horizon collapsed without warning. One second it was a golden expanse of desert, the next—a dark tide, like ink spilled across the sky.

From below the horizon, a viscous black wall surged upward, flowing like liquid asphalt, stretching thousands of meters high, sweeping across the desert with a speed that defied physics.

But this wasn't just black—it shimmered with oily iridescence, like a rainbow from an oil spill. The air grew thick, gluey. Light on the horizon turned sickly green. The darkness churned across land and sky.

“Wh… What is that?” Qi Haoshu covered his mouth in disbelief.

“That’s—f*—that’s Abyss Zone No. 5!!”**

Ning Jing felt her brain explode. Her instinct took over as she revved up the Mechanical Heart, commanding the Whale 03E Heavy Gas Turbine Locomotive, Weilong-Class, Huanxing 10A, and four other traction engines to unleash their full power. The Infinite Train’s engines howled like wild beasts, the torque so immense it blasted out orange sparks along the rails. The whole train launched into violent acceleration.

“Full throttle! Get out of here—now!!”

WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP!

Behind them, every carriage of Dragon Mountain No. 1 groaned with metal strain. Every vehicle in the convoy saw the monstrous white tide to the south. The radio channels filled with gasps, swears, panic.

Every train engine pushed to the limit. No one cared if the North Line rails had been maintained or not. Everyone engaged emergency full power.

250 KM/H, 300 KM/H, 350 KM/H… 400 KM/H!

The steel dragon roared across the wasteland, kicking up dust cyclones, surging forward with the full might of an industrial beast. A 15-kilometer-long convoy plunged into max acceleration!

Meanwhile, chaos erupted among the Fu Lu Shou, Dawn, and Akesai Brotherhood motorcades.

“Drive! GO GO GO!!”

“Throw out any excess weight! Get moving!”

“Sh*t—we’re screwed—”

“SHUT UP! Eyes on the road!”

From the lead vehicle, Lu Zhao barked through the radio:

“Maintain formation! Do not scatter! Stick to the car in front!”

The Gobi looked flat but hid jagged stones everywhere. Only the artificially reinforced path along the rails was truly smooth. Their obstacle-clearing vehicle led the way. If formation broke now, it would be a disaster.

Lu Zhao's warning stopped anyone thinking of overtaking. They watched the train disappear into the distance and could only clench their jaws and follow.

All 22 motorcades pushed to their limit. The tracks themselves trembled. Concrete sleepers shook in place. And the dark tide behind them—it widened, it grew.

The once-clear sky was swallowed by darkness. A massive black wall loomed, marching forward, blanketing the world.

Inside Dragon Mountain No. 1, Shi Diyuan was drenched in sweat, eyes darting between the black sky and the radar. His fists clenched tight.

“So this is what it looks like when the Abyss moves…” Ning Jing’s face was grim. Everyone on board could feel the existential threat bearing down.

“F*, it’s still an hour till nightfall!”** Shi Diyuan growled.

“Don’t count like that,” Ning Jing said. “We barely escaped the edge of the Polar Night from Yijin City. Abyss Zone No. 5 is right behind us.”

“Then how’s it faster than the Polar Night? This is just—” Shi Diyuan stopped.

What still counted as “normal” anymore?

A voice crackled in the comms—it was Qian Dele:

“That black tide is fast. At this rate, we’ll be ‘in the dark’ in under an hour.”

“Do we even call it ‘nightfall’ in an Abyss?” Monica’s voice was cold. “Drop the wishful thinking. We’re not reaching Quancheng before night. We haven’t even seen the edge of this tide.”

Back in Carriage 2, KIKI worked with Luo Yang from Carriage 12, both analyzing the data. The screens showed horizon images, processed through optical scans.

“Well?!” Lin Xian pressed.

“Still calculating!” KIKI’s fingers flew across the keys. Luo Yang’s voice came in:

“Optical expansion speed is about 220 kilometers per hour. At that rate, we’ve got about half an hour. But the edges are too fuzzy to be sure.”

Lin Xian recalled what Chu Yan said—the Weihe incident was due to an irregular expansion of Abyss Zone No. 5. Meaning it wasn't the whole Abyss pushing forward, but a bulging portion. It might look like a massive wall—but if it advanced in a roughly circular spread, and they were fleeing along the tangent, then the key was calculating the wall’s speed and boundaries.

Tap tap tap. KIKI’s voice was tight:

“At our current speed and direction, unless the expanding portion of the Abyss is under 1,000 km in diameter and less than 350 km deep, we won’t escape.”

Lin Xian’s face darkened. He shared the data across the network.

“Monica’s right. Assume the worst—we’ve got half an hour before we’re swallowed. We’ll have to fight our way out, just like we did this morning.”

“Half an hour. At least it’s time to prepare.” Qian Dele said.

“And unlike Hu and Old Mo’s teams, we’re on rails,” Monica added. “At least we won’t get lost.”

“What about Boss Hu’s crew? Are they keeping up?”

“Still got signal. Shouldn’t be far.”

Just then, Hu Lushou’s voice crackled through the radio:

“Bosses, if we can’t outrun this thing, maybe slow down a bit? If we hit a monster tide, at least we can stick together.”

“Hell no! Who knows what we’ll hit?” Shi Diyuan snapped. “Another thirty minutes at this speed—we won’t leave you that far behind!”

Hu Lushou’s face contorted. He slapped his thigh, ready to curse.

“We’re screwed—we’re gonna be cannon fodder…”

Beside him, Sun Chang calmly said:

“They’re not going to slow down for us. But they’re right. Stick to the rails. We’ve escaped once. We can do it again.”

That gave Hu Lushou a flicker of hope. He stared at the towering black wall on the horizon, gritting his teeth:

“D*mn it, if I were flying my Dragon-Class Transport, I’d boost out of here in a flash. No need for this crap.”

Sun Chang gave him a chilling glare.

“Did you forget how that ship crashed?”

Hu Lushou flinched. He clamped his mouth shut, slumping into his seat to pray.

Back on the Infinite Train, everyone who could wear power armor had suited up. Shu Qin, Daluo, and PX-05 robots hauled crates of ammo across carriages. Lu Xingchen, already armored, stood grimly at the edge of a carriage, firelight dancing in his eyes as the blackness approached.

“KIKI,” Lin Xian said in Carriage 2, “suit up. Anything could be inside the Abyss. Your psychic shield might not hold.”

KIKI nodded and obediently donned a Lone Wolf S Power Armor. She smiled, still upbeat:

“Honestly, I’ve wanted to wear this for a while. It’s just usually such a pain.”

"The mobility units are useless to you, but at least the radar system and defensive armor should still come in handy," Lin Xian said.

"That’s true."

Just then, Chen Sixuan walked over and said, "Raise the weapons and activate the fire-control radar ahead of time. The system reacts faster than we do."

"Got it."

KIKI immediately got to work, raising all the electromagnetic cannons, the 1130 CIWS, anti-air cannons, and the automated Gatling turrets from the roof of the train. At the same time, the Arc Pulse Resonators and the Electric Blade Armor along both sides of the train deployed. The entire Infinite Train had now entered full-limit combat mode.

“All carriages, report status,” Lin Xian said into the communicator, his gaze locked on the massive black wall of darkness rushing toward them from the horizon.

"Carriage 21—Liang Lei, Da Zhou—we’re ready. Don’t worry, Captain Lin."

Liang Lei gripped his weapon tightly, his skin transforming into a metallic sheen as he braced for battle.

"Carriage 17, everyone's in position."

Li Yi's voice came through.

"Carriage 15, our team is fully prepped," said Li Guangwen, clad in his power armor, taking a deep breath.

"Carriage 14, Lolo and A Min are both here!"

"Carriage 12, Luo Yang and A Bai are good to go. Weapons and fire-control radar are online!"

"Carriage 9, Shu Qin, Miao Lu, and Lü Chang are standing by!"

"Carriage 6, me and Fire Bro are here. You're good, Brother Xian!"

"Carriage 3, it's me, Xiao Yuan! I'm with Director Ding!"

"Carriage 20, the Sally Unit is ready."

At that moment in Carriage 20, Shasha was already seated inside the fully-armed Sally Unit. The six-axis mechanical arms mounted to the mecha were prepped and ready to deploy for combat outside the train.

In Carriage 2, Lin Xian, Chen Sixuan, and KIKI—fully suited in combat armor—glanced at each other, silently aligned.

"Let’s head to the cockpit."

"Mm!"

Lin Xian called for Chen Sixuan, and the two moved out together toward the cockpit of the Infinite Train, still partners as ever.

“About 50 kilometers left!”

Shi Diyuan’s voice came over the comms, and everyone tensed.

17:29, the southern expanse of the vast Gobi Desert.

A colossal black wall surged across the horizon, swallowing everything in a storm of darkness. From this distance, they could already see the twisted, shifting anomalies within—not just blackness, but a kind of annihilation tide from another celestial body, engulfing all existence. The speeding Allied Train raced toward it. To the left was a burning orange sunset;

to the right, a monstrous wave of darkness like some cosmic behemoth. The black, viscous storm canopy writhed madly, silently devouring sand dunes, rusted signal towers, and wind-carved rocks alike.

“20 kilometers!”

DONG! DONG! DONG!

The earth, the dust, the tracks—all trembled. The sky darkened. Ahead of Dragon Mountain No. 1, there was no longer any sign of desert terrain—only a towering black curtain, thousands of meters high, like a fault line in the world itself.

“10 kilometers!”

A howling wind screamed. The train wheels clashed against the tracks, throwing sparks as the world changed color.

And then, with only three kilometers between the train and the black wall, all the chaos suddenly vanished.

The moment the darkness touched the tracks, the gravel along the rail lost its shadow, as if the coordinates of three-dimensional space had been erased—flattened into paper-cut silhouettes.

Inside the carriages, mercury in the thermometers plummeted. Frost bloomed on stainless steel forks in the dining car.

The temperature dropped like a cliff.

Zzzzzzz...

All train channels burst with strange static. Voices of Lin Xian, Shi Diyuan, Monica, Qian Dele, and others became layered, muddled, unintelligible—as if billions of people were screaming, sobbing, whispering in the dark.

Simultaneously, every electronic system on the train—including those in power armor—began to experience bizarre electrical surges. Signals flickered wildly.

In the cockpit, Lin Xian and Chen Sixuan stared wide-eyed at the curtain of horror outside. A wall of black, blotting out the sky.

"Star Abyss…"

"It’s here!"

When that world-splitting black veil engulfed everything—it all went silent.

Everyone instantly realized—they couldn’t feel their senses.

Sight. Hearing. Touch.

All of it shattered by the rolling force.

It was like self-erasure. Nothing existed anymore.

Lin Xian tried to open his eyes—but felt like he had no eyelids. No eyes.

He tried to shout—but had no mouth.

He reached out for Chen Sixuan—but forgot where his hands were.

So Lin Xian tried activating his Mechanical Heart.

BZZZZZZZZ—

A mechanical roar grew louder in the void. He heard it—his Mechanical Heart's roar, for the first time.

Was it real?

Sight returned. His vision stretched wide and warped, as if his eyes had morphed into fisheyes. Everything looked distorted.

He was still standing in the Infinite Train’s cockpit.

Outside the window, the Gobi was gone—replaced by boiling void.

He looked out... and Dragon Mountain No. 1 had vanished.

The train was heading straight into the iris of a colossal eye—its pupil a collapsing wormhole. The iris: layers of inverted Babylon towers, each one skewered with relics from past wars—medieval ironclads, mushroom clouds, cyborg limbs...

And the train—powered by inertia—raced forward like photons falling into a black hole.

Steel civilization’s last defiant charge toward the end of a dimension.

Huff... huff...

The second sound he heard—his own breathing. Inside the power armor mask, he gasped like an astronaut drifting into cosmic abyss—lost and alone.

But he couldn’t see his body. No data from his suit. Nothing.

This was the first time Lin Xian’s mind encountered such a bizarre state of detachment.

He remembered what Chu Yan had told him:

“If you see it—don’t look. If you try to understand—it breaks all logic. Don’t describe it. Don’t even try.”

A chill ran through him. He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to reconnect with his senses—anything to stop the free-fall into cosmic madness.

Then—he felt it. His limbs. His body.

And sounds... far away, coming closer through the dark.

Beep beep. Beep beep.

[Warning: Hypothermia detected. Hypothermia detected…]

Woooo—

Suddenly, his watch beeped, the power armor alarms blared, and the Whale 03E Heavy Gas Turbine Locomotive roared to life.

They dragged Lin Xian back to reality.

BANG!!

His brain was hit with intense weightlessness.

Then—impact.

BOOM!

Lin Xian realized—the train had derailed.

But that didn’t make sense. The Gobi was flat.

Why the weightlessness?

No time to think. His senses returned just in time to feel the cockpit tipping.

Up front, Dragon Mountain No. 1 emitted an agonizing screech of twisting metal.

Inside the carriage—it sounded like a plane crash.

The Whale 03E’s headlights flickered.

And Lin Xian saw it—Dragon Mountain No. 1’s carriage was tilted upward.

Screams filled his earpiece.

“AHHH!”

“What’s going on?!”

“The carriage is breaking apart!”

“AHH—!!”

Clack!

Someone grabbed him. He turned—it was Chen Sixuan, gripping the rail.

"Lin Xian!" she shouted.

He grabbed her with one hand and immediately activated the Mechanical Heart to fire up the engine.

The motors roared.

But—the wheels were spinning in the air.

The train wasn’t on the tracks anymore!

Clunk! Clunk! Clunk!

The carriages behind them echoed with metal groans.

Lin Xian slammed his hand on the window and launched a small drone outside.

The drone ascended—and then, from its camera—Lin Xian saw a horrifying sight.

The entire Allied Train had derailed.

Dragon Mountain No. 1, Infinite Train, Monica Queen, Joker Convoy—all lay crooked and twisted on black soil.

They hadn’t overturned, but many cars were warped.

Lights flickered. Power systems across the train were surging with wild voltage.

What was worse—around the train was an endless, pitch-black forest.

Countless trees had been snapped and crushed by the train.

Torn branches reached in through broken windows like claws.

Lin Xian sucked in a sharp breath and sent the drone higher.

As it climbed, the camera darkened—but before it cut out, he saw it:

Cars and carriages strewn across the black woods, lights flickering, stretching for kilometers...

Until swallowed by darkness.

Staring at the footage, Lin Xian’s expression hardened.

"This… isn’t the Western Gobi Desert!"

And somewhere, deep in that shadowy forest—

strange sounds echoed through the trees.

Screeching cries rang out through the darkness.

Terror had arrived. The eerie had descended.