Apocalypse: I Built the Infinite Train-Chapter 305: Western Gobi Desert

The wind howled, and grit scraped across the ground.

Beneath the black night sky, the vast Gobi wasteland stretched endlessly as a steel train steadily rumbled forward. The only sound left was the grinding of metal wheels against the tracks.

Until they fully escaped the Polar Night, the train didn’t slow down for a second, racing headlong beneath the shroud of darkness.

“At our current speed, we should be able to exit the range of the Abyss Zone No. 5’s Polar Night in about five hours. But the thing is, even once we're out, based on the timeline, we’ll still be in the middle of the night and the Dark Tides. We'll have to wait for the tides to pass—daylight should come around 9 a.m.”

Inside the Infinite Train’s cockpit, Chen Sixuan ran calculations on the track map and navigation system, then turned to Lin Xian and said, “This is based on the Phoenix’s estimated expansion speed of Abyss Zone No. 5. The actual situation might differ a little.”

Lin Xian nodded at her words. “As long as the tracks stay clear and we’re in stealth mode right now, there’s not much to worry about.”

Chen Sixuan closed the travel logbook and said to Lin Xian, “I get your concern about the tracks, but this isn't something we can rush. Honestly, things are already way better than we expected when we first left Jiang City.”

“That’s because we’re not the only ones fleeing by train,” Lin Xian said. “Eerie Entities and zombies don’t destroy railways for no reason. We’ve run into three track crises so far—two of them were man-made. And since it’s been less than a hundred days since Apocalypse Day, the tracks haven’t suffered much damage yet. But give it time, who knows.”

Of the three track incidents, one happened in Tang Hai, one in Yijin City, and the other occurred just before they reached Underground City No. 9, when the tracks were destroyed by tentacles from Atmospheric Mica.

From past experience, zombies and Eerie Entities marked by the darkness usually only attack humans during the tides. Even when they destroy buildings, it’s with the intent of harming people. Plus, modern Planetary Orbital Rails and high-speed tracks were built to incredibly high standards, so for the most part, traveling has been smooth. Besides, their convoy wasn’t the only one taking this route—other teams must also have ways to repair tracks.

“Our train team is going to expand eventually,” Lin Xian leaned back, hands behind his head. “This issue’s gotta be handled sooner or later.”

Leading the charge was the Dragon Mountain No. 1, which had a team specifically for scouting track conditions, radar systems, and both Shi Diyuan and Ning Jing onboard. That meant Lin Xian’s team and the trains behind them could take it a bit easier.

Chen Sixuan nodded. “So, we’re heading south from Quancheng to Luling, then to Jinhai, and finally Dawn City, right?”

“Depends on how it goes,” Lin Xian said. “Jinhai is home to the Dragon Nation Rolling Stock Group. They’ve got plenty of train loading bays. Lots of Doomsday convoys go there. I’ve heard there’s a huge industry in train modifications there—probably includes that Linglong Group.”

“And Fengge Group too,” Chen Sixuan added. “Didn’t Shen Yao from the North Wind Alliance mention that before? Jian Xuwei from the Silver Star was looking for us. After they came down from the High-Altitude Corridor, they were likely heading along the Orbital Rail toward Dawn City.”

“We’ll deal with it when we get there.”

“Then we’ll probably split from the other convoys at Quancheng,” said Chen Sixuan. “They’re all heading north, trying to catch up with the Dawn Center.”

Lin Xian closed his eyes slightly, his face weary. “I know. Once we pass Quancheng, we’ll have the longest stretch of daylight ahead of us.”

It had been a non-stop death race, and he was exhausted in every sense. If they could make it past Quancheng, only Abyss Zones No. 6 and 8 had rapid expansion rates, and both were still far from Jinhai and Dawn City. As the central hub of the Dragon Nation, that region had become a massive migration zone where survivors from all over were converging—an overwhelming flood of convoys and organizations scrambling to escape.

But that patch of daylight would also be humanity’s last and longest. Once Abyss Zones 6 and 8 merged, the total of 13 Abyss Zones on Blue Planet would nearly blanket the entire world.

Until the Polar Doomsday Center was completely consumed, only 400 days would remain!

Chen Sixuan gently wiped the dried blood from Lin Xian’s nose and mouth with a damp towel—the aftermath of shockwaves from earlier impacts. As she looked at his weary face, the firmness in her eyes softened into tenderness. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, leaned forward, and offered a gentle kiss.

“You... need some rest.”

Blushing slightly, she rose and pressed the cockpit door's close button. Before the door shut, she tied her hair into a loose ponytail, then leaned forward again, pouring all her warmth into Lin Xian.

Hong Wei hadn’t expected that elementary school teacher of old to become so bold now. Her heart fluttered, and her entire body began to relax. Wrapped in that gentleness, half her exhaustion faded away.

Though Ms. Chen was a bit awkward in her movements, she gave it her all—no rush, no hesitation. Her soft breaths and quiet murmurs sent tingles to Lin Xian’s ears and stirred a rising heat in his chest and abdomen. Just as he was about to sit up, Hong Wei Xiang gently pressed him back down, lifting her head with a look as gentle as water yet touched with cool determination.

“Don’t move. Let me handle it.”

She stood, slipped out of everything, bit her lip, and leaned down once more.

“All that pressure we’ve been carrying... we don’t have to bear it alone anymore. From now on, no matter life or death, we’ll face it together.”

Cradling Lin Xian’s face between her palms, she moved with a rhythmic grace, her voice soft and soothing.

Warmth surged through Lin Xian’s chest, loosening the tension that had been wound so tight within him. He couldn’t help but wrap his arms around Ms. Chen’s waist, burying himself in her comforting scent.

Inside the Infinite Train’s cockpit, waves of exhaustion and tenderness surged like tides—passion interwoven with quiet breeze—stirring, wild, and more exhilarating than any dopamine rush the Mycelial Network could offer.

Afterward, Lin Xian felt completely refreshed.

Ever since that encounter with the Corpse Shepherd, he hadn’t been too worried about common Eerie Entities appearing in the night. His mindset had toughened up significantly.

In Carriage No. 1, inside the sleeping cabin, Lin Xian had taken a shower. Ms. Chen had already drifted off to sleep peacefully. Since this stretch through the Polar Night Zone was still ongoing, Lin Xian planned to stand watch himself. Once they were out, he’d rest up and let Chen Sixuan take command.

After closing the cabin door, he activated the 20 Thunder Falcon 2000 Attack Drones—a major gain from their time trapped in Yijin City.

He had long wanted to build attack drones, but lacking remote mechanical control ability, he was previously limited to manually guiding small units loaded with explosives—not exactly ideal in combat. It made him feel like a joke in the face of real threats.

Now, not only could he directly control machines remotely, these Thunder Falcon Drones were far superior to earlier rotor models. Equipped with Hall Thrusters, they were extremely fast, highly maneuverable, armored, and—most importantly—each came with an Arc Pulse Cannon.

Lin Xian raised a hand, and with a low whoosh, the 20 spherical drones took off in unison, hovering in a perfect circle in front of him. Their red lights glowed ominously, forming a mechanical halo that was nothing short of spectacular.

He flicked his finger, and under his precise command, the drones shifted into an S-formation—then instantly into a B—flawless and synchronized. Lin Xian’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

“If I build 200... no, 2000 of these, wouldn’t I basically be the queen of a mechanical swarm?!”

“S**t! Now that’s what I call Mechanical Deus Ex Machina!”

Just imagining a sky swarming with drones unleashing a barrage of fire made his scalp tingle.

“Wait—what if I combine a few and mount them onto my power armor? I could fly!”

“F**k yeah! I’m a genius!”

He grew more and more excited. He decided to swap out his Lone Wolf S Power Armor and build a Black Hawk Silent Hunter—a Stealth Wolf-Class Suit. He’d seen its capabilities in the hands of both Chen Sixuan and Ding Junyi. It was fully enclosed and, though not capable of full flight, had micro-thrusters that allowed low-altitude gliding—easily scaling buildings hundreds of meters tall.

With a few of his own tweaks, Lin Xian was confident he could boost mobility to the next level. He wouldn't have to rely on KIKI for lift anymore—mobility would skyrocket!

At that moment, he opened his R&D dashboard.

[G3 Electromagnetic Railgun (Blueprint) – In Development: 16 hours 29 minutes remaining]

“New blueprint’s almost done...”

Even though he was hyped for the railgun upgrade, he decided to build a basic G3 Railgun in Carriage No. 5 first. The newer the tech, the more complex it became to manufacture. He could build a Black Hawk, but there was no way he had the bandwidth to mass-produce suits for the entire convoy.

He figured that equipping the team with Lone Wolf S suits was already a big leap—far better than what he’d initially planned with the TRP system. No need to rush into overkill.

He also planned to continue work on the 1130 CIWS and G3 Railgun, but that would wait until after Sun Train was integrated into the convoy. Manufacturing would then depend on the new car layouts.

For now, he paused even the Auto Bullet Pressing Machine—focusing instead on repairing the train after the recent quakes. Plus, he wanted to check how Grace’s system overwrite was progressing. Eventually, he could assign her to assist with blueprint implementation and design.

Another matter on his mind was his Power Surge skill. To upgrade it with Mechanical Amplification, he needed to devour a 300-megawatt-class nuclear power unit. But right now, only Dragon Mountain No. 1 and Monica Queen trains had such high-output engines.

He couldn’t just steal someone else’s life support system—and even if he had one, using it for skill upgrades would hurt like hell. Not worth it yet.

Other than Power Surge, the only skill he hadn’t maxed out yet was Backlash, which remained at:

Backlash (Rare) – Level 2, 50%

“Once we join up with the Sun Convoy, I’ll build a missile carriage and recreate that MIK-66 Rotating Arm Missile Rack from my scan.”

As he planned all this, he walked toward the rear carriages, casually using his Mechanical Heart to scan the car structure and repair any minor damages. But honestly, the new Composite Armor was so tough that there wasn’t much to fix—a relief.

He stepped into Carriage No. 2. The darkened carriage was illuminated only by the soft blue glow from KIKI’s information center. Shasha was already fast asleep in her bunk, while KIKI sat cross-legged in her swivel chair, a lollipop tucked in the corner of her mouth, eyes focused on her computer screen.

“How’s it going?”

Lin Xian walked over and asked in a low voice.

“Not that fast,” KIKI replied, her ten fingers flying across the keyboard as she sucked on the candy. “These computers don’t have enough processing power. It’s going to take a while to parse Grace’s data. There’s no rushing it.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Lin Xian nodded. “When we get the chance, I’ll upgrade your setup.”

“Pfft, dream on. Do you even understand what an 8192-core quantum computer means?” KIKI spun around in her chair and pointed her lollipop at him. “That kind of computing power could run the entire Oceanic Rail Operation Unit—it’s even stronger than the Yubei Spaceport’s Climbing Elevator System. You think you can just get one of those?”

Lin Xian smiled. “Well... don’t we already have one?”

KIKI rolled her eyes at him but then changed her tone, musing aloud.

“Come to think of it, this Crimson World must really be something. They actually installed a brain like Grace in a cryo-center like that... and she’s probably just a simplified offline version.”

Her implication was clear—if there’s one Grace, there are likely more, and some might be even more powerful.

Lin Xian understood and exhaled slowly. “If it was just a fake center for show, it wouldn’t need a machine like that. But Director Ding did say those fungal threads might actually be able to upload human consciousness and use the brain as a computing node. Which means, yeah, this stuff isn't just some scam for rich people. It’s serious tech.”

KIKI nodded. “Makes sense. But you better let me finish the overwrite before powering her on. If Grace wakes up now, and the system rewrite isn’t done, she could become a major threat.”

“No worries,” Lin Xian said with a smile. “I’ll leave her to you. You take care of it.”

Right now, Grace’s command was to protect the Zero Element Center—but with the center destroyed, there was no telling what she’d do if she rebooted. She could even trigger some kind of hostile protocol. Lin Xian had already secretly cut off her energy transmission module with his Mechanical Ability. Without physically repairing it, nobody could power her back on.

But KIKI immediately waved her hands.

“No way—I don’t want her here!”

“What, are you scared too?”

“Absolutely not.” KIKI glanced at Shasha sleeping nearby. “But if you leave her here, that little one’s never gonna fall asleep.”

“Fine, fine...” Lin Xian chuckled. He understood—Grace came from the Descent Faction, had extremely advanced AI, and a disturbingly human appearance. The crew’s unease around her was natural.

He turned to leave, but KIKI suddenly stretched out her leg, blocking his path. Her eyes fixed on him.

“Wait. I’ve got something to ask you.”

Before she could even finish, Lin Xian grinned, cupped her cheeks, and gave her a quick kiss on her lollipop-flavored lips.

“There. A little reward.”

Caught off guard, KIKI’s face flushed bright red. She instantly kicked Lin Xian away, shouting in exasperation.

“That’s not what I meant, you perv!”

Lin Xian scratched his head, laughing awkwardly. “Oh. So... what were you gonna say?”

KIKI’s chest rose and fell quickly. She shot him a sharp glare, then turned around, typed a quick command, and brought up an image on the screen.

“This. I want you to make this for me.”

Lin Xian looked at the blueprint. It seemed to be a kind of cold weapon—a blade shaped like a phoenix wing. Oddly, though, it had no handle. Both ends were sharpened, and there was nowhere to grip it. It looked more like a double-edged throwing blade than a knife.

“What is this?” Lin Xian frowned. “A blade?”

“It’s something I came up with,” KIKI explained. “I found the base design in the old Federation database. It’s an outdated mech weapon prototype—a retractable spinning blade. The design was scrapped.”

Lin Xian looked puzzled. He didn’t get what she was planning.

KIKI seemed to anticipate his confusion and explained further.

“Remember when we did that Phoenix ability test, and Wen Zhuo talked about power development? I’ve been thinking about that ever since. My ability’s mostly functional—not very offensive. I’ve made that large-scale shockwave before, but it drains a ton of energy.”

“So I thought... maybe cold weapons are better for me. If you can make these blades, I can control them with telekinesis. They’ll be deadly, reusable, and the energy cost on my end will be lower. One stone, four birds! Pretty smart, right?”

Lin Xian finally understood, though he frowned slightly. “Four birds? What’s the fourth?”

KIKI giggled, turned around, and trapped Lin Xian between her smooth legs, smiling mischievously.

“I want you to make me a hundred sets!”

She suddenly struck a martial pose, slicing through the air like a kung fu master.

“I’ll control them all at once—turn them into a storm of blades to slice through monster hordes! For defense, they’ll form a dragon-scale shield—impenetrable! That’s the fourth bird: offense, defense, efficiency, and style!”

Lin Xian’s eyes lit up. Leave it to this girl to come up with something so cool. Her telekinetic control had grown a lot stronger lately, and this method really would amplify her damage potential. Plus, the blades could be reused. Even if one got broken, Lin Xian could just make her a new one. Definitely more efficient than using shockwaves alone.

Only downside? High-level Eerie Entities had ridiculous defense. Even Lin Xian struggled to cut through them with his Electric Blade sometimes. So she’d still need to mix in shockwaves and focused telekinetic slashes for tougher targets.

“Brilliant idea,” Lin Xian said, nodding. “I’ll build you a hundred sets. I’ll also design a special auto-deploy container and mount it on the train’s roof. You can just summon them when you need them.”

KIKI’s eyes sparkled. “Yes! That’s exactly what I wanted—mmph!”

Before she could finish, Lin Xian sneak-attacked her again—planting another kiss on her soft lips before darting away.

“Hey! You—you—!”

KIKI shouted at the back of the retreating rascal, teeth clenched in mock rage. But her eyes sparkled with a tiny flicker of joy.

“Such a jerk...”

Lin Xian couldn’t help but smile. This brat really was adorable. Beneath the loudmouth sass, she was fiercely tough and incredibly smart—a true genius girl, scarred but strong from all she’d been through.

Yeah, she could be bratty and stubborn, and... okay, totally flat-chested, but none of that mattered to him.

Their bond had grown stronger through every life-or-death battle—and though she still blushed and played hard to get, always ducking into dark corners or pretending to fix her lip gloss, Lin Xian knew they both saw through the act.

In Carriage No. 3, as per protocol, all train lights were off—but Ding Junyi still had a small desk lamp on. Under its soft glow, she was carefully observing the fungal sample she had brought back from the Zero Element Center using a set of lab instruments.

When Lin Xian stepped into the carriage, Ding Junyi happened to look up.

“You look exhausted. You should get some rest.”

“I’ll wait until we’re out of the Polar Night Zone,” Lin Xian replied, a bit surprised—that wasn’t the kind of thing Ding Junyi usually said.

She set down her tools, turned to face him, and spoke with quiet seriousness.

“The idea that the Mycelial Network can upload human consciousness has given me some serious pause. It suggests that Dark Entities may understand humans far better than we thought. While we study the darkness... the darkness is studying us.”

Lin Xian’s eyes sharpened, and he murmured,

“When you gaze into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.”

Ding Junyi raised her brows slightly. “There’s another thing. As Mycelial Networks and the Sky Mushroom Towers are both unique lifeforms capable of parsing human thoughts, their extreme vulnerability to fire seems too convenient. That kind of fatal weakness compared to their potential value doesn’t add up—it’s suspiciously unbalanced.”

“You mean... they shouldn’t be that easy to destroy?”

“Exactly.”

Lin Xian frowned slightly. “Maybe it’s because we’re deep inside the Polar Night Zone, which is basically their territory. That might explain—”

“If that’s your logic,” Ding Junyi interrupted, “then the Corpse Shepherd you saw might be a form of internal defense mechanism—part of their protective system. And our destruction of the tower? Probably just a fluke.”

She paused, then added, “Of course, it’s also possible that humanity simply lacks understanding of what’s happening within the Polar Night. There’s a serious information gap. After all, in the face of Dark Entities, we humans are still incredibly small. Being able to blow up a Sky Mushroom Tower in their territory? That was probably a one-in-a-million thing.”

“I get what you’re saying now.”

“There’s one more thing that might interest you.”

Ding Junyi moved to the side of the lab station. There were two Plant Cultivation Chambers there—one containing a Hell’s Black Chrysanthemum, the other holding a Silver Dragon Ten-Thousand-Strand.

Oddly enough, the Hell’s Black Chrysanthemum looked noticeably bigger than before. Even stranger, the Silver Dragon Ten-Thousand-Strand had grown significantly taller than its previous silver-white sprout form. At the middle of its stem, a white flower bud had emerged—glowing faintly with an eerie light.