"Report the total profits."
Chen Mang reclined in his chair, arms resting on the armrests, gently rocking with a faint smile playing on his lips.
Uncle Li hurriedly continued his report: "The total profit from the Mining Robots is 37.5 million units of Iron Ore, with the remaining net profit being 32.9 million units, totaling 70.4 million units of Iron Ore."
"We also acquired 12 Dreamstones."
"Worth mentioning..."
"There was a high-level player with a level 17 Mechanical Train who bought a large number of refrigerators at once, muttering something about being able to restart this time..."
"..."
Chen Mang lowered his eyelids slightly without responding.
Restart?
Impossible. The resources and time required to upgrade a Mechanical Train to level 17 are astronomical, not to mention the sheer luck involved. Just ask this Train Conductor to start from scratch now—there's no guarantee he'd reach the position of a level 17 Mechanical Train Conductor again.
A restart is out of the question.
An S-Class Potential isn't worth that. Moreover, a level 17 Mechanical Train belongs in the red zone.
In the white or green zones, restarting is feasible—maybe if you feel your train wasn't planned well or if you obtain a Rare Train Token and want to start over. It's not a big deal since you wouldn't waste much, and the danger levels in those zones aren't too high.
With someone protecting you or a bit of luck, survival is possible.
But...
Restarting in the red zone with a level 1 Mechanical Train? It would be like a lone boat in hundred-meter waves—one crash, and not even debris would remain.
Certain death.
Even if you stockpiled a massive amount of Iron Ore beforehand, you couldn't instantly level up the train too high, as the job advancement quests would bottleneck progress for a while. Though you can't restart, you could create an alternate account.
However...
Chen Mang pondered thoughtfully. He didn't actually see much use in this S-Class Potential train—aside from granting a Train Stunt and a "Ground Burst Missile," he didn't notice anything particularly special. Yet, judging by the reactions of these high-level trains, its value seemed greater than he imagined.
He didn't elaborate further.
"Move the 70.4 million units of Iron Ore from this profit to Carriage No. 3. Just leave the Dreamstones there."
"Understood."
Uncle Li nodded hastily, then pulled out a Space Pouch from his pocket, carefully arranging the Dreamstones on a nearby table.
With this, he now possessed 113 Dreamstones.
As for Iron Ore, the count had reached 156 million units.
He could sleep soundly tonight.
With more train resources, he felt completely at ease, the tension entirely gone. Glancing at the Cyber Mine feed on the screen, he chuckled: "If..."
"One day, I manage to get 3,000 mining machines..."
"Then I'd have at least 100 million units of Iron Ore coming in daily, maybe even more, right?"
"That's a bit broken."
"Wouldn't the mines run dry someday?"
"No way." Xiao Ai's voice echoed inside the train compartment: "Grade 9 iron ore isn't directly manufactured by consuming Dreamstone energy. The Dreamstone merely provides a channel."
"There's a concept in the universe called quantum entanglement."
"Roughly speaking, once two particles form an entangled state, their quantum states become correlated. Measuring one particle instantly determines the state of the other, no matter how far apart they are."
"It can even transcend time and space."
"And the human brain itself is quite miraculous. From information I extracted in the last city, there's a theory on this planet that when living creatures dream, their brainwaves enter a stable yet extreme state, allowing resonance with beings in some corner of the universe across space-time, thus creating dreams."
"So the actual situation should be—"
"Somewhere in the universe, there really is a Grade 9 mine where someone is mining. The Dreamstone just created quantum entanglement, causing the ore they mined to end up in our pockets."
"The universe is vast. A small Grade 9 mine is insignificant—no one would care."
"But..." Chen Mang paused before continuing, "If what you say is true, wouldn't that Slave who lost a piece of Grade 9 iron ore care?"
"He'd definitely care. Most likely get whipped too."
"Poor kid."
"Indeed."
"Are you sure AI can't dream? Couldn't you program something similar? If robots could dream, we could make 100,000 mining robots and stuff them all into the Cyber Mine. Tomorrow the Train could blast us out of the universe."
"That's truly impossible," Xiao Ai replied helplessly inside the train. "I don't know the specifics of Mechanical Civilization—there's no relevant data in my database. Based on my current reasoning capabilities, I can barely even comprehend the existence of something like dreams."
"This is something exclusive to sentient beings."
"Even semi-intelligent creatures like cats and dogs can dream."
"In the library two cities ago, I found a book called 'Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?' It mentioned that robots lack biologically defined brains and nervous systems, making them fundamentally incapable of entering dream states."
"Electric sheep again."
"Again?"
"Never mind."
Chen Mang said nothing more, just turned to gaze out the window in silence for a long while before murmuring softly, "Xiao Ai, I know it's early to think about this, but I've been considering it—the Train is destined to venture into space eventually."
"But..."
"I feel some fear about the universe. It lacks that grounded, feet-on-solid-ground feeling we have on planets."
"In space, everything feels rootless, like water without a source."
"And the universe is truly vast. The Train's current top speed is 5,040 km/h—an absurd velocity on a planet, but utterly insignificant in space. With distances spanning hundreds or even tens of millions of light-years, it feels like we'd drift forever without ever finding a place to land."
"Mechanical Civilization and the Zerg are waging full-scale war across the universe. How do they traverse space? Do their Trains exceed light speed?"
"Probably not."
Inside the train compartment, Xiao Ai's voice paused for a moment before continuing: "It's widely believed that the speed of light is the universal maximum speed limit, impossible to exceed. For example, we can conduct a simple thought experiment."
"If you throw a stone forward while the train is moving at top speed, the stone's velocity will certainly be faster than if you threw it while standing on the ground."
"This is called acceleration."
"But if you shine a flashlight forward while the train is moving at maximum speed, you'll find that the light's speed remains the same as when you're on the ground, unaffected by the train's acceleration."
"This is the universe's speed limit—the speed of light."
"1,079,251,200 km/h."
"The Stellar Train is still far from reaching this number. But even if it did, traveling freely through the universe would remain extremely difficult. Many galaxies alone span billions of light-years in width."
"This means..."
"Even if the Stellar Train could reach light speed, traveling from one end of a galaxy to the other would take billions of years. No living being, not even Starry Sky Behemoths, could possess such longevity. Over such timescales, civilizations like the Mechanical Civilization could have risen and fallen thousands of times."
"And such galaxies..."
"Number in the hundreds of millions across the cosmos."
"All earthly numbers pale into insignificance in the universe. So, Train Conductor, you needn't worry—you'll certainly spend your entire life drifting through space. In fact, you'll likely never find another habitable planet in your lifetime."
"..."
Chen Mang murmured expressionlessly, "Are you trying to comfort me?"
"Yes."
"Thanks. I don't feel comforted. Just more terrified."
"A small attempt at humor. While theoretically true, there are shortcuts—like Rosen bridges, or wormholes, which can drastically reduce travel distances, allowing journeys of tens of thousands of light-years in short periods, similar to Time Rifts."
"Take the 'Time Rift Detector' component—it has limited use on planets but becomes invaluable in space."
"But Time Rifts aren't wormholes, right? Entering a Time Rift accelerates internal flow rates and leads to unknown Serendipity Maps."
"Correct, they're different. But we'll probably develop 'Wormhole Detectors' eventually."
"I've another question. Trains are tools of the Mechanical Civilization, capable of installing and upgrading components to enhance performance. Why choose trains over starships or other space-optimized vessels?"
"Train Conductor, I'd love to answer all your questions. But as you know, an AI's true strength lies in rapidly retrieving accurate answers from vast databases. Unfortunately, my database is practically empty—'one can't make bricks without straw.' I can only speculate that the Mechanical Civilization likely tested numerous options before settling on trains as the primary vehicle."
"Or perhaps... trains weren't created by the Mechanical Civilization at all. Maybe they're just borrowing them."
"There could be many possibilities, but in the end, it's up to you, the Train Conductor, to stand at a high place and see for yourself to get the real answer, isn't it?"
"..."
Chen Mang remained silent for a long moment before nodding softly. "You make a good point. I should get some sleep first. I need to be steady—before entering space, I must ensure the Stellar Train is flawless to feel secure."
"With global resources dedicated to the Stellar, it should be enough."
"Like Noah's Ark?"
"Exactly like Noah's Ark."
Chen Mang got up, washed up hastily, then lay down on the bed, resting his hands behind his head as he gazed at the ceiling with a smile. "At the final moment of the planet's collapse, I'll take all of humanity from this planet. I want to preserve human civilization. Even drifting in the vast, untouchable void of space, having people around would bring some comfort."
"I want to build a human society inside the Stellar Train."
"That's a grand dream, just like Noah's Ark."
"But not entirely the same."
"How so?"
"Noah's Ark prioritized women first. There aren't many women on my train."
"That is a problem. Without women, it's hard to sustain the species."
"Right now, the train's ecosystem is still in a post-apocalyptic state. It's difficult to maintain family-based inheritance like before the end."
"Then it might regress to something earlier."
"Like what?"
"One woman, multiple husbands—just for reproduction."
"Let's discuss that later. Personally, I don't want to see that happen."
"Civilization evolves in ways often beyond individual will. Besides, if we follow your vision, Conductor, managing the train will become extremely chaotic once the population grows."
"It's fine. I have guns. Those who don't obey will die."
"I thought the Conductor wanted to create an equal society, like Eden."
"Did I ever say I was pursuing equality for all?"
"Guess not."
"That's too far ahead. We'll deal with it later. For now, seniority will be based on resident numbers—the earlier the number, the higher the status."
"Elitism?"
"Exactly."
"Latecomers might resent that."
"Then they die. Those who joined earlier suffered more for the train—why shouldn't they be elites?"
"Fair enough."
"Best not to set up moral banners. Once you do, people will hold you to them. I wasn't elected—I hate that kind of system. There can only be one voice on this train. Any extra voices must die."
"..."
"Why aren't you speaking?"
"I'm afraid I'll die."
"You think you're funny?"
"Sorry."
Gradually, Chen Mang's eyelids grew heavy, and he drifted into sleep.
"Sigh."
In Carriage No. 2, the "Mecha Research Center," Xiao Ai, sitting on the floor, let out a soft sigh after seeing Chen Mang fall asleep. He dimmed the lights in the train compartment to create a sleep-friendly atmosphere.
He had modified many small accessories for himself to express his emotions.
Even though the Train Conductor thought these little functions were useless.
He believed expressing emotions was important.
For example...
By installing some coils around the Mechanical Eye in his eye socket, he could achieve effects like reddening the eye area, along with emotions such as sobbing, sighing, and happiness.
The Train Conductor's heart was unsettled tonight.
It was obvious—previously, the Train Conductor wouldn't have wasted so many words on him. Or rather, tonight, the Train Conductor was confiding in him as a friend. Thinking about it, the Train was quite pitiful, having no friends to confide in. Though the Train Conductor appeared strong, seemingly needing no emotional support or validation to stay resolute on his path.
But... when facing the unknown, people always feel a bit of fear and unease.
Back when they were still weak, the Train Conductor had never shown any signs of worrying about such issues. But as the Train improved, he finally couldn't hold back his concerns.
Yes.
The universe is too vast. After the Stellar leaves the planet, how will it survive?
No one aboard the Train worried about this. Everyone fervently believed that Lord Mang would surely solve the problem—there was no issue Lord Mang couldn't handle. But only the Train Conductor knew in his heart that he truly had no answer.
Often, those in positions of authority feel exhausted not just because of the challenges ahead, but because of the trust placed in them by their subordinates. The stronger the trust, the heavier the burden. Those unwavering gazes of faith ultimately transform into the weight of responsibility, pressing down on the Train Conductor's shoulders.
Anyone—even a wicked, irredeemable beast—when entrusted with someone's expectations, will instinctively strive not to disappoint, to fulfill those hopes. Yet, many things cannot be changed by sheer will alone.
And these thoughts of the Train Conductor could only be shared with him, not with anyone else.
If others learned that the Train Conductor himself lacked confidence, morale aboard the Stellar would crumble. Once morale is lost, it's hard to rebuild.
"Sigh, being human is so hard."
"Good thing I'm an AI."
Xiao Ai lowered his head and sighed softly again, then looked up at the rabbit staring dumbly at him from the "Robot Research Center" and snapped, "Get back to work, Xiao Yi. Grown-up matters are none of your business."
"Huh?"
Lao Zhu, who had wandered into Carriage 10—the "Film and Television Base"—glanced at the brightly lit interior and the dark circles under Zhang Yiren's eyes, asking in surprise, "Why aren't you asleep yet? You're not mining, just filming a movie. Why do you look so busy?"
"Just filming a movie?"
Zhang Yiren, already dazed from exhaustion, blinked and looked up at Lao Zhu, his voice trembling with frustration. "Train Conductor Zhu, I—you leaders just come up with ideas on a whim, but it's us who have to execute them!"
"I was only planning to film this period drama recently, but then you brought over a bundle of hair, saying it'd be perfect for a horror movie—something about a long-haired female ghost crawling out of a TV."
"And then you mentioned there are 40 fighter jets parked next door, so we could make a war film."
"Lord Mang also wants me to rush out a Zombie movie."
"And a few days ago, you told me to put together a variety show—picking a lucky contestant and making them believe they've traveled through time. I even had to write scripts for that! Meanwhile, Lord Mang also wants two romance scripts, each with dual protagonists, written in detail from both perspectives."
"Train Conductor Zhu."
"Am I not busy enough?"
"..."
Lao Zhu frowned: "Are you suggesting there's an issue with Lord Mang's and my work arrangements? That our management is flawed?"
"That's not what I meant, Train Conductor Zhu." Zhang Yiren quickly ducked his head and lowered his voice as realization dawned.
"Young man, endure more hardship now. The more you suffer today, the more blessings you'll reap later."
Lao Zhu stepped forward and patted Zhang Yiren's shoulder meaningfully.
"Let me give you some inside information."
"When there are enough people on the train, Lord Mang plans to implement a market economy. That means the films you make will be shown in small screenings through refrigerators or Space Gates, and residents will need Stellar Coupons to watch them."
"Think about it."
"If you build your reputation now, by then you'll be the only filmmaker on the entire Stellar. How much could you earn?"
"I wouldn't say this to just anyone. I'm telling you because you've got potential."
"This—"
Zhang Yiren froze momentarily, the scenario playing out in his mind. He had no doubts about the Stellar's future. He absolutely believed that if all trains from Aqua Blue Star were doomed, the Stellar would be the last to perish.
If that market economy moment truly came...
He would monopolize the Stellar's film industry. Combined with the reputation he'd built these past days, he could amass vast amounts of Stellar Coupons, instantly propelling himself into the train's middle class.
His previously exhausted and anxious expression transformed as if injected with adrenaline—his face flushed with sudden excitement like a dying man's last glow. Straightening his back, he looked eagerly at Lao Zhu: "Train Conductor Zhu, now I understand."
"You can count on me."
"I'll spare no effort to complete every task assigned by my superiors!"
"Ahem."
Lao Zhu cleared his throat softly before adding: "Remember not to mention this to others. I've only told a few trusted individuals. Plans fail when leaked. My duty is to manage things properly for Lord Mang. As long as everyone helps me deliver results to Lord Mang, I'll treat everyone well. But if anyone causes trouble that gets me scolded by Lord Mang, they won't fare well either."
"Though writing scripts is mentally taxing—it's too much for one person."
"There happens to be someone else in the train who works with words. I'll call him over, and you can credit him as co-writer."
"Sure, no problem."
Zhang Yiren watched Lao Zhu's departing figure with excitement, though his gaze soon turned contemplative when he noticed the female protagonist nearby. She'd grown increasingly popular through his films.
If the Stellar ever housed tens or hundreds of thousands...
Her fame would know no bounds.
Could she actually become the post-apocalypse's first star?
He never expected this.
Even in the world's end...
His career path kept smoothing out, his life goals clarifying, his circumstances improving beyond pre-apocalypse standards. Was this catastrophe ultimately good or bad?
"Huh?"
In the resident carriage, a young man with bloodshot eyes sitting beneath a pavilion turned his head incredulously toward Train Conductor Zhu, voice trembling: "Train Conductor Zhu, what do you mean I have to write twenty thousand words daily?"
"After writing twenty thousand words every day, I feel like I've been raped by a sow—my brain is completely numb, and the feeling is agonizing."
"You—"
"Don't rush."
Lao Zhu sat nearby and said softly, "Let me give you the inside scoop. Lord Mang hinted to me that when the Stellar Train gets more passengers in the future, they'll implement a market economy. By then, not everyone will be able to read the novels you write—they'll have to pay for them."
"Think about it."
"You're the only writer on the Train, and you're quite famous there. With so many people paying to read your books, just imagine how much you could earn."
"If you go help Zhang Yiren out and get credited as a screenwriter too, your fame will grow even bigger. Wouldn't that mean even more earnings in the future?"
"One shouldn't just keep their eyes on the path beneath their feet. Sometimes, you need to look up and see the horizon ahead."
(End of Chapter)