Chapter 65: The Train

The subway station at rush hour is always so crowded it makes one doubt life itself; the state of people squeezed together in the carriage even creates the illusion that perhaps everyone in Border City is cramming onto this single train—if it were possible, Song Cheng truly would not want to take the subway at this time.

But there was no help for it; the "Train" normally only appears stably on the second train during the morning rush hour peak. Although there are sighting reports at other times, they are uncontrollable.

Song Cheng, with his burly build, squeezed into the packed carriage, feeling the swaying motion as the subway slowly accelerated after leaving the station. He saw that his field of vision was filled with office workers rushing to their companies for the morning peak; the gaps between people were stuffed with a mixture of blended odors—

A cage forged from steel, stuffed with compressed and piled flesh, burrowing through the dark underground into pipes supported by concrete, rumbling from one place to another. Artificial light can dispel the darkness within those "pipes," but in the earth beyond the pipes, darkness and the unknown are the true appearance of the underworld.

Song Cheng closed his eyes slightly, repeatedly cycling through this association in his mind. He imagined this steel-forged "flesh-transport cage" burrowing through the dark earth like a grotesque and blind worm, imagining the suffocation of the soil rushing at his face, cold and seeping with the scent of decay.

With his eyes still closed, he slowly moved through the crowd in the carriage. Though the carriage remained crowded, everyone unconsciously made way, creating a path. The tall and sturdy Song Cheng walked unhurriedly to the rear of the carriage, then opened his eyes and took a look.

The door was marked indicating this was the end of Carriage No. 2; ahead lay Carriage No. 3.

In the carriage behind him, the originally noisy sounds had gradually weakened at some point; occasionally, voices of people talking drifted over, yet they sounded so distant as if separated by a thick, heavy wall.

Song Cheng did not turn around. Instead, he casually pulled a strip of parchment from his pocket; the strip had been pre-soaked in ointment. He stuffed the paper into his mouth, chewed it slowly, feeling the intense, stimulating pungent coolness rush straight to his brain, then stepped forward.

Passing through the door of Carriage No. 2, he arrived in a brand new carriage that was completely empty.

The previous carriage was still packed with passengers rushing for the morning peak, yet here there was not a single soul.

On the slightly worn seats lay a few old newspapers, yet the dates on the newspapers showed tomorrow.

Song Cheng turned his head back and saw that the automatic door behind him displayed the words: Carriage No. 16.

The stimulating taste in his oral cavity was gradually spreading. He turned and continued walking forward, passing through the gates of Carriage No. 16 to reach the next section of the train. In the next carriage, rust stains were everywhere; grime covered the windows on both sides. Occasionally, faint glimmers flashed outside the windows, but they did not resemble the lighting in a subway tunnel. Instead, they looked more like a series of eerie, darting eyes watching this steel worm roaring past from within the dark earth.

This was Carriage No. 12. Song Cheng continued walking forward, confirming the carriage numbers as he went. As he moved further ahead, each carriage appeared increasingly bizarre: some carriages were filled with plastic mannequins; some were overgrown with mushrooms; some carriages even lacked roofs and walls entirely, consisting only of a bare floor speeding through undulating, writhing earth-pipes.

Furthermore, the numbers of all carriages were randomly distributed between 1 and 21, with absolutely no sequential order.

A warm candlelight suddenly entered his vision. In the next carriage Song Cheng entered, the structure of a subway carriage was completely gone; he had stepped into a large wooden horse-drawn carriage. Several beautiful women, dressed in exceptionally gorgeous and flamboyant attire, sat on both sides of the carriage, engaged in lively conversation, occasionally letting out pleasant, crisp laughter. Outside the carriage windows floated a faint mist; occasionally a streetlamp flashed by, illuminating the streets of some unfamiliar city.

A flamboyant noblewoman noticed Song Cheng suddenly bursting into the carriage. She stood up in surprise, stepped forward, and asked about Song Cheng's purpose.

But Song Cheng paid her no heed whatsoever; he merely glanced back at the number on the carriage door: Carriage No. 23.

He turned around and walked back.

A "normal carriage," with a structure completely identical to those on a regular subway, came into his view. The carriage was spacious and empty, brightly lit, with neat and clean seats.

There was only one passenger, sitting in the middle section of the carriage near the window. He held a newspaper in his hands, his face hidden behind it.

Song Cheng turned back to confirm; only after seeing the number "22" written on the door did he exhale a breath of relief and step toward that sole passenger.

The other party wore a pitch-black coat. At his feet lay a briefcase, also black, and a black umbrella hung on the railing beside the seat.

From the coat to the case to the umbrella, everything possessed a strange, rubber-like texture.

Song Cheng sat down beside this passenger and lightly tapped the newspaper in the other's hands.

The passenger finally lowered the newspaper and looked up at Song Cheng.

It was a smooth face with a slight sheen—just like rubber. The appearance was that of a gaunt middle-aged man, who also wore an old-fashioned black bowler hat that seemed utterly out of place in the modern era.

"Hello," this strangely appearing passenger nodded to Song Cheng. His voice trembled and was off-key, yet his demeanor was quite polite. "What would you like to chat about today?"

Entity, Passenger No. 22: Generates within the Otherworld-Train, usually remaining inside Carriage No. 22. Possesses sanity, is capable of communication, and occasionally helps outsiders escape the Otherworld—but under specific conditions, can also display aggression.

Right now, he was friendly.

"Have you heard of the address No. 66 Wutong Road?" Song Cheng asked, speaking just as one would chat with an ordinary person. "There is a person named 'Yu Sheng' living at this location."

That rubber-like "passenger" shook his head: "The train does not have this stop."

Song Cheng's expression instantly turned serious.

Passenger No. 22 knows much intelligence regarding "locations." Except for certain extremely bizarre or secretive "locations," as long as the inquiry is clearly directed, he can almost answer the basic situation of any Otherworld, even if it is millions of light-years away. At the very least, he will point out whether the Otherworld mentioned in the question exists and whether it is located within the Borderlands.

But now he said the train does not have this stop.

In fact, this train indeed leads nowhere, but when Passenger No. 22 says "the train does not have this stop," it means he possesses no intelligence regarding a certain location.

Since the Special Operations Bureau's archives first contained information on Passenger No. 22, records of this specific response number less than the fingers on one hand.

After a moment of silence, Song Cheng asked again: "Then what about this person, 'Yu Sheng'? Have you heard this name during your travels?"

"If it is information related to people, you can go ask the 'Storyteller'; he knows many things concerning people. He is in the Park, telling stories to children there... Do you need directions? I can tell you when the 'Park' appears."

"Thanks, but no need; I know where the Park is," Song Cheng shook his head. Feeling the potency of the ointment in his mouth gradually weakening, he hurriedly asked the next question: "Is there any recent news about Nightfall Valley?"

"Nightfall Valley... Ah, a traveler departed from there, but I am not clear on the specific details," Passenger No. 22 said unhurriedly. "If you wish to know what happened after that, I fear I cannot help."

"Why?"

"Because this stop has been cancelled."

Passenger No. 22 placed the newspaper on his lap and stated calmly with that rubber-textured face.

Song Cheng widened his eyes, sitting on the chair in astonishment.

This answer had never appeared before!

"The train does not have this stop" was at least a response mentioned in the archives, but "this stop has been cancelled"... He dared to guarantee this was the first time!

"Why was it cancelled?!" he asked subconsciously, his gaze urgent.

"Who knows?" Passenger No. 22 shrugged in a very human manner. "I only know matters along the train line; those things happening outside the route... I am not clear on them."

Song Cheng blinked, feeling the potency of the ointment weakening further; faint sounds of human voices were already beginning to reach his ears. He still had some questions he wanted to ask, but just then, the corner of his eye suddenly noticed the newspaper resting on Passenger No. 22's lap.

That was the only thing on this entity's "person" that did not possess a rubber texture; it truly was just a newspaper.

The front page of the newspaper was printed with a large black-and-white illustration. In an era where even the cheapest roadside tabloids use color printing, this black-and-white illustration appeared exceptionally retro. Furthermore, the image itself was blurry, abstract, and distorted; it did not resemble a photo taken on-site, but rather looked like a crude doodle smeared onto canvas by an inept painter based on hearsay.

A desolate valley; a gigantic eye was floating above the valley, slowly moving away.

Below the illustration was the headline of the news:

"After the Feast."

"We are about to arrive at the station." The voice of Passenger No. 22 suddenly came from beside him, waking Song Cheng from his reverie.

Song Cheng abruptly raised his head and saw Passenger No. 22 staring intently at him. This sane entity had already reached out to pick up the umbrella hanging on the handrail; as he stood up, he asked as if casually: "How is the weather right now?"

Song Cheng immediately reined in the thoughts in his mind and observed the entity before him with extreme seriousness.

Passenger No. 22 had brought an umbrella today, but the umbrella was dry.

"Today is overcast..." Song Cheng spoke.

But just then, he suddenly noticed a trace of water stain on passenger 22's suitcase, as if invisible rain had just fallen upon it.

"But the rain has already started falling," Song Cheng immediately added, "bringing an umbrella was the right decision."

"Indeed," passenger 22 smiled, the rubber face emitting a slight tearing and rubbing sound, "have a pleasant journey, and be careful when getting off."

"Have a pleasant journey." Song Cheng sighed, smiling and nodding as he spoke.

Noisy sounds came from all around, the heat of human bodies filling the crowded carriage.

The burly Song Cheng squeezed into the packed carriage, feeling the slow deceleration and swaying as the subway entered the station.

(End of this chapter)