Chapter 1: Death Express (Part 2)
I looked around. The car wasn't crowded—passengers were scattered sparsely across the seats. Aside from a somewhat stifling atmosphere, nothing seemed unusual.
I couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. Could this have been some kind of twisted joke from Slade? We lived in the same neighborhood, so you could say we were acquaintances. Maybe he'd devised this elaborate way to scare me straight, make me quit gambling before it was too late?
If that were the case, it was awfully thoughtful of him.
But a loan shark boss who ran underground casinos—what reason could he possibly have for such kindness? What was he after? I couldn't figure it out.
Just as my mind was a tangled mess, I suddenly noticed a passenger in the row ahead who looked familiar. I scrutinized him more carefully and was stunned!
Quinn? The WBC welterweight champion?
I double-checked. No mistake—it was him! I never expected a reigning boxing champion to be on the same train as me.
I instantly turned into a starstruck fan, grabbed some paper and a pen, walked over nervously, and said, "Mr. Quinn, I can't believe I'm running into you here. Could I get your autograph? You're my idol."
Quinn didn't take the paper and pen. He just looked up at me. "On this train, there are no idols. You and I are equals. Anyone can fall from their pedestal."
"Huh?" I had no idea what he meant.
"You're a fighter too?" Quinn sized me up and asked.
"Yeah." I nodded.
"What discipline?"
"Kickboxing. I've had twelve professional fights, even won..."
"Alright," he waved his hand. "Want to form an alliance with me first?"
"Alliance?" I was thoroughly confused. "What kind of alliance?"
Just then, a sweet-faced female conductor walked into the car. Holding a microphone, she announced: "Welcome aboard, everyone. I'm your conductor, Nana. The last passenger from Jinan has now boarded, and our official journey is about to begin."
"This train has eight cars in total. Aside from the dining car at the rear, all others are combat zones. If any passenger wishes to withdraw or is injured mid-journey, please proceed to the dining car for help. However, that also means the forfeiture of your qualification."
I was completely dumbfounded. Combat? Qualification? What was she talking about?
"This journey does not encourage the use of weapons, though it doesn't forbid them either. However, I specifically instructed security to be extraordinarily thorough during screening, so anything that should have been confiscated already has been. If anyone manages to use a weapon under these circumstances, I can only say I'm impressed."
"Additionally, let me clarify the reward: passengers who reach the final station will receive five hundred thousand yuan. On top of that, each additional ticket stub collected from another passenger earns an extra hundred thousand, with no upper limit."
"That's all. Good luck, everyone. Nana will be waiting for you in the dining car." The alluring conductor tossed a wink and departed, leaving me standing there completely bewildered.
What the hell was going on? Why was she talking about "weapons"? Was this conductor insane?
"Hey, kid, there's no time—are you forming an alliance or not? I'll give you three seconds to decide!" Quinn suddenly said through gritted teeth. "Three, two..."
A dark shadow flashed past, and with a loud "clang," something smashed onto Quinn's seat. I flinched—it was a steel pipe torn from the luggage rack, and it had pierced clean through Quinn's seat.
Luckily, he'd reacted swiftly, executing a shoulder roll to dodge what would have been a lethal blow.
A man in a suit who looked like a teacher pushed up the black-framed glasses on his nose and smiled eerily. He slowly withdrew the steel pipe, then licked the blood trickling down his lips. "An alliance? Ha. Don't fool the newcomer. Kid, let me give you some advice—on this train, you can't trust anyone."
By now, combat had erupted throughout the entire car. All the passengers were brawling in a free-for-all. Screams of agony filled the air, blood splattering everywhere. I stood frozen in place, my brain still crashed.
It wasn't until a glob of blood splashed onto my face that I snapped back to reality: No, no, no—Slade hadn't done this out of kindness. This wasn't a normal journey. This was a high-speed rail version of Battle Royale!
Survive until the end, reach the final station alive, and you get five hundred thousand! And each ticket stub you collected—each person you "harvested"—earned you an extra hundred thousand!
I finally understood what Slade had meant: "If you can reach the final station safely, the money you have will be enough to cover the debt."
My God, this completely exceeded anything I could have imagined!
I didn't want to kill anyone, and I didn't want to be killed! I'd been a law-abiding citizen my whole life. It was just a moment of foolish desperation that landed me in two hundred thousand of loan shark debt. I could work, do manual labor—I'd find some way to pay it back... I'd never imagined using murder to pay off loan sharks!
Call the police—right, I needed to call 110. Let them find a way to stop this train. Everyone on this train had gone insane... But when I pulled out my phone, there was no signal at all.
The dining car... right, there was still the dining car. I could flee there—get to the dining car and I'd be safe! I scrambled toward the rear of the train.
Every car was a battlefield. I threaded my way through like a rat scurrying through cracks, tumbling and crawling, finally making it to the second-to-last car—only to be hit by a wave of despair. The passage to the dining car was completely blocked. Several burly thugs stood guard there, clearly waiting for easy targets to deliver themselves.
What could I do... An idea struck me: the bathroom! If I couldn't reach the dining car, I could hide in a bathroom for a while!
There was no better option. I checked every bathroom, but they were all "occupied." Heaven must have been smiling on me, because when I stumbled into the next car, I finally found one with the door slightly ajar. I pushed it open and ducked inside—only to freeze.
Inside, cowering in the corner, was someone who looked like a student. He was wearing a high school uniform, huddled in the corner of the bathroom, sobbing, his face covered in tears.
Why was there a kid here?
There was no time to think—I needed to lock the door first. But the lock was broken, so I used a mop to wedge it shut.
"Please, don't kill me..." He wailed, begging me.
"Don't be scared, I'm not like the people outside, I..." I didn't even know how to explain it to him, so I asked, "Which school are you from? How did you end up on this train?"
"My mom is in the hospital. I was rushing back to see her, but all the tickets were sold out. I could only get one with a transfer at Millbrook. I really don't know what's going on..." The kid was terrified out of his mind. His lips were trembling, his face pale white, tears streaming down as he spoke.
"Don't worry, we'll hide in here. We'll be fine. Once we reach the final station, we'll be safe." I could only try to comfort him.
"Mister, I don't want to die. I'm only in eleventh grade—I have college entrance exams next year. Please, save me..." He clutched my sleeve like a drowning man grabbing a lifeline.
"It's okay, it's okay. I'm here, nothing will happen." I gently patted his shoulder, trying to calm him down.
After comforting him for a while, his emotions gradually steadied. Honestly, even I could barely handle this level of brutality—let alone a kid. If he made it through this alive, God only knew how long the nightmares would last.
This kid brought out my protective instinct. I decided I couldn't just hide here waiting to die—this hiding spot would be discovered sooner or later.
So I quietly cracked the bathroom door open to check the situation outside. Suddenly, a nylon cord looped around my neck from behind, catching me completely off guard.
3
The sensation of suffocation hit me immediately.
I struggled desperately, but the nylon cord was incredibly tough and razor-thin, cutting into my flesh like it wanted to sever my windpipe. In my panic, I reached backward but only grabbed his school uniform.
"Mister, you're way too naive. How could someone like you end up on this train?" His tone was dripping with mockery—completely different from before. "Don't you understand? On this train, hell is other people."
I tried to turn my head to see his face, but waves of suffocation hit me. I felt like my neck was about to snap. With every ounce of strength I had, I could only squeeze out two garbled syllables: "You... lied..."
"Hahaha, you want to say I lied? I didn't lie to you at all. I really am in eleventh grade—just at a juvenile detention center. I've got several classmates' lives to my name, and the police still haven't found all the bodies. I was specially pardoned to participate in this trip. Oh, and you must be a first-timer. What a shame, this is the end for you..."