At this moment, the sturdy barrier was shattered, and all reincarnations manifested once again.
They turned into a sharp blade that could be flipped through.
This blade looked like a diary.
The train beneath people's feet would head toward dusk at any moment.
Countless doctors had gripped such a blade, maintaining the train's operation while seeking a cure for civilization between clarity and madness.
Now, it was Xu Xiaoyou's turn to grip this sword and become the new sword-bearer.
The diary was light. Because it was quite old, the paper's structure was extremely rough and fragile, as if a gentle pinch could crumble it. Yet it was also heavy, carrying the weight of civilization.
Several thin figures moved through the darkness of the pipes. Owl led the way, gripping a water pipe and looking around warily. Night Owl followed behind her, while Sparrow used a homemade scanner to locate their current position and guide the group.
Only the thin, dark-red-haired girl walked at the very back, silent. She did not understand the complex look the doctor gave her before he lost consciousness; she read many emotions in it: regret, annoyance, numbness, sorrow, and loneliness.
Those emotions were so profound that they lingered in her mind even now.
She was willing to believe the doctor. Even though the man often told hypocritical lies to soothe them for the sake of experimental progress, whenever he spoke of the 'flowers blooming on the ruins,' his gaze was always compassionate and sincere.
The doctor wanted to save everyone. On that point, he had never lied.
Reaching a corner in the underground pipes, they vaguely heard the roars of monsters. Looking ahead, they saw a distorted zombie-man flickering in the dense darkness.
Its entire body was merged with the wall. Dark-red crystal chunks of various sizes grew on its skin, spreading to the walls, floor, and ceiling. Faint red light flickered occasionally within the fibrous patterns, illuminating the narrow pipe like a crystal cave.
Noticing the bewitching cluster of Akabane camellias beneath the zombie-man, Owl took out filter masks and handed them to the others. "Be careful. Try not to inhale the pollen from these flowers."
Generally speaking, the pollen of the Akabane camellia itself did not cause infection. However, the ones growing out of these zombie-men were extremely infectious. Malicious individuals had piled heaps of zombie-man corpses in key passage carriages, allowing these bewitching flowers to bloom and block the conflicts between the two major factions.
"Persistent pests," someone among the children muttered as the roar sounded close to their ears.
The group put on their masks and bypassed the roaring zombie-man, continuing their journey in the dark.
In their young hearts, they all shared the same doubt: when exactly did this crisis break out?
Back when they weren't orphans, they had all asked their parents this question, only to see confusion on their faces. Clearly, their parents couldn't provide an answer either, because as far back as their parents' generation could remember, these distorted monsters had already existed.
Continuing forward, the sound of flowing water echoed. Damp vapor condensed into droplets, dripping onto the metal pipes with a steady pitter-patter.
The closer they got to the noble carriages, the more unease began to invade her heart. Intense fear made her chest heave violently, and her pupils suddenly shrank to the size of pinpoints. She felt as though she couldn't breathe.
It was she who had killed the doctor with her own hands.
The previous scene replayed constantly in her mind, her vision stained with bright red.
Because of selfishness, she had killed the only person who could possibly end this disaster. Now, the plague would never end, and everyone on the train would have to endure suffering and torment in a cycle.
People would be separated from their loved ones over and over again, watching those close to them die, turn into monsters, or freeze to death in hunger and cold.
Newborn babies were destined to face a cold world from birth, letting out cries of despair.
Elderly couples, unable to work, would be driven out of the bottom-tier carriages, embracing with tears in their eyes before being submerged by the tide of corpses.
Everyone's efforts had come to naught because of her selfishness.
What did she do wrong?
Because it hurt too much, because she didn't want to hurt like that anymore, was she in the wrong?
Two voices in her heart kept tempting her.
"You did nothing wrong! Those being saved have no right to criticize the sacrifice. Salvation is built upon sacrifice, but no one ever cares about how the sacrifice feels!" a cunning little devil shouted, waving its pitchfork in protest.
"Out of a sense of justice, they cheer for the salvation brought by the sacrifice, yet they criticize the sacrifice for resisting!"
"Xiao Li, you can't be like this. You have to be good. Go back quickly. There are still many people in dire straits, including many innocent ones." A delicate little angel waved hands that looked like marshmallows, its smile cute and healing.
"They are kind-hearted, longing to break through the reality of their plight, and they take action, using their own warmth to affect the cold winter. They bless and pray for the sacrifice in places unseen."
"Who cares about those annoying people!"
The little devil waved its fork, piercing the little angel's belly and pulling out the angel's intestines and heart!
"Besides, the doctor is already dead. I hate those annoying people with overflowing sympathy the most!"
"Ah—"
Xiao Li watched the entire process of the little devil cruelly murdering the little angel, her expression numb and despondent.
The little devil was showing off a few pixelated mosaics, kicking the little angel's head into a blood-red woven goal. It opened its hands to the sky as if enjoying the cheers of the crowd, then straightened its bowtie and exited the stage meticulously.
Xiao Li's mind was on the verge of collapse.
Who would help her make a choice?
What was she supposed to do?
In a luxuriously decorated carriage, a man groomed his shiny beard in front of a mirror embedded in the bedroom wall. He draped a baroque-style coat with exaggerated lace designs over his shoulders. Seeming slightly dissatisfied, he adjusted his cravat and sprayed some men's cologne on himself, looking extremely refined.
The man's name was Benjamin. He lived in the noble carriages, though he wasn't aware of his status as a 'noble.' To him, everyone around him was the same, living a plain and monotonous life, occasionally adding a bit of romance for flavor.
"Oh, right. The children must be thirsty and tired after their journey. They'll want water and something sweet." Remembering something, he hurried forward to pick up several bright, translucent red apples from the table. He placed them in a wicker fruit basket and covered them with a cloth, as if preparing a surprise.
A long life was dull and tedious for Benjamin.
Three years ago, he was diagnosed as infertile. He couldn't take children to play in the park carriage like the people around him, nor could he have dinner in the revolving restaurant or coax his own child to sleep with beautiful fairy tales.
His life was always filled with the laughter and chatter of children, yet not a single voice ran toward him or healed him. Thus, he often sat alone in the park, staring enviously at his neighbor, Mrs. Aerylia, who ran a nursery and could look after many, many children at once.
He loved children dearly. They were little angels sent by heaven, their laughter more pleasant than wind chimes. They would always take an adult's hand and run toward more beautiful and interesting places; it was their innocent playfulness that healed the world.
But starting today, all of that would change.
He was about to become a proud father.
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